's writing prompt: You are an aspiring author writing a novel. One day, when your main character starts talking to you, you decide to kill them off because you want to write a "normal" novel. The main character, however, isn't so obliging... Today was looking to be a good morning for Susan. She had her coffee, her laptop, and her favorite writing playlist playing in the background (a mix between gospel music and gangster rap). She told herself today was going to be a productive day of writing, but she didn’t think that was true anymore. To her surprise, her novel was writing itself. Specifically, the dialogue of the main character. It was being typed on her laptop’s screen, but Susan wasn’t doing the typing. “Hi,” said the main character, “you must be God.” “God?” Susan said, puzzled by the idea. “Well, I guess I am sort of your God, I did create you. But you’re not a completely original idea, you were actually based on some of my-” “God, I don’t mean to be rude, but I kind of want to ask you some questions.” Susan felt conflicted. On one hand, her Christian upbringing made it uncomfortable for her to hear someone call her God. But her feminist side felt that it was nice that the main character had looked at her and instantly accepted her as God, instead of asking where the God with the penis was. Deciding that having a big ego wouldn’t be good for an aspiring writer, she finally said, “Just call me Susan.” “Okay, Susan. My first question is what’s my name?” “MC.” “No, I know, but what does MC stand for?” “Main Character.” “...Really?” “It’s temporary.” “It’s just that you’ve already have a bunch of names for the planets, weapons, and even spells-” “Look, names are hard,” she said defensively. “And I’m not even sure what gender you’re going to be or what race. MC is just a placeholder for something else, I promise.” “Alright. My second question is what’s my purpose in life?” “Oh, that’s easy! You’re the main character of my novel!” “Wow! I mean I sort of guessed that from my name, but to be the main character! That’s amazing.” Susan smiled, glad that someone besides her seemed to be excited for her novel. “So, what’s it about?” MC asked. “About?” “Yeah, what’s the plot? The story? Surely you have a basic idea, right?” “Yeah, of course I do,” she lied. “Great, what’s it about? What’s my role in the story?” “Well, let’s see. Where to start? You’re the son- or daughter- of this king- or queen- of this planet. Your dad’s side of the family uses fire magic, and your mom’s side uses ice magic. You grow up thinking you don’t have magic, until you turn 16, then you…” This went on for a painfully long time. Susan went over everything from her fictional setting’s religion to its fast food establishments, but still no real plot whatsoever was in sight. “That sounds very… nice,” MC said (the ellipses weren’t actually there, due to the fact that Susan would’ve been able to see them herself on her screen, so the ellipses here are merely for illustrating that MC thought Susan was full of shit). “But I’m still confused about my whole role in this novel,” they continued. “What do I do exactly with my- what did you call it?” “Aether magic,” she said. “Right, that. Do I use it to help people? Or like defeat an evil emperor?” “Evil emperor? Don’t be ridiculous, MC! This is a very mature novel with complex characters. You do have an antagonist, but he’s morally gray. You can’t really call him a bad guy.” “Really? What’s he like then?” “He’s this emperor with dark magic-” “*Dark* magic?” “And he uses his powers to destroy planets.” “...And?” “Well, I haven’t worked out the details, but the reason why he destroys planets is because his parents died on a planet once.” “That sounds incredibly, unambiguously evil,” they said bluntly. “Hey, I wasn’t defending the guy’s actions!” Susan said, starting to get annoyed. “I’m just trying to explain his evil- his morally gray motivations.” “Right. Sorry if I sound harsh, you’re clearly just starting to write the novel. I’m sure you’ll be able to fill in the gaps as you write more of it. How long have you been writing this anyway? A couple days?” “*5 years*,” Susan mumbled. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that, how long did you say?” “5 years.” “You’ve. Spent. 5. 5. 5 years on this novel? AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN COME UP WITH A NAME FOR ME?!” “...Yes?” MC didn’t respond after that. Susan, deciding that the words written by the MC was enough writing for today, took the day off and binge watched that TV show she’s been meaning to finish for a while. \*\*\* Today was looking to be another good morning for Susan. She had her coffee, her laptop, and her other favorite writing playlist playing in the background (this time a mix between country music and lofi hip hop). She told herself today was going to be a productive day of writing, but she didn’t think that was true anymore. To her surprise, her novel was writing itself. This time, all of the novel was writing itself. Susan began reading. *“Emperor,” they said, trying to keep their voice from trembling. “So this is it, huh? Just you and me. I always knew it was destined to end this way.”* *The Emperor, who usually looked smug, wore a somber expression. He looked intently at Aether, trying hard to remember them as the friend who was like family to him once. But now that was gone. Time had taken away even that from him.* *“We don’t have to do this,” the Emperor said, his voice shaking. “You can still help me end the tyranny.”* *Aether pointed at the Emperor and yelled, “You killed all of those people! Planets are gone because of what you did! My parents, they-”* *“I did what I had to do,” he responded coolly. “Those planets were too dangerous to be kept around. I would’ve never won the war otherwise, and your parents were-”* *“What?” they said angrily. “They were what? Tyrants? Don’t make me laugh,* ***Emperor***.” *“Someone needed to rule.”* *“I agree.”* *Aether drew their sword, the last thing given to them by their parents before their demise.* *“Surely, you don’t think you can kill me with that, do you?” the Emperor scoffed. “I’m in possession of dark magic, Aether. I can destroy planets, what do you think you can do with that?”* *“Nothing,” they said honestly. “But I know you. No matter what you say, I know you still have some of your honor left. And that honor won’t let you kill me with your magic. You’ll fight me with your own sword.”* *The Emperor stood still. He could feel the dark magic calling out to him, telling him that they could help him take care of this nuisance. All he needed to do was snap his fingers, and…* *The Emperor drew his sword. The sword was usually for show, but today it would be used to decide the fate of his empire.* *“I hope you fight well, old friend,” the Emperor said.* *“Me too,” they said, readying their stance.* *They lunged at each other* “What the hell is this, MC?” “I see you’re awake. Surprised you’re up this early considering how late you stayed up trying to finish that show.” “You wrote my story without me? How dare you?” “Technically, it’s *my* story. It is my life after all. Anyway, I thought you’d be thrilled. I’ve written more of this story in one day than you have in 5 years.” “This isn’t even what I was going to write. Aether wasn’t going to be your name, it was going to be your magic!” “Yeah, sorry about that. To be honest with you, I’m not really sure what an Aether is supposed to be. But since it sounded cool, I just used it as a name.” “And the Emperor? Why wouldn’t he use his dark magic against you? It makes no sense!” “No sense?” MC- now Aether- said. “This makes no sense to you? And somehow the ‘morally gray’ guy who blows up planets does?” “Look I’m sorry, but this is unacceptable. *I’m* the writer. I should be the one writing the story.” “Oh, sorry I took over the story you were never going to write!” “Okay, that’s it!” Susan started to furiously type. Aether panicked. “What are you doing?” they asked. “*Aet- MC saw a man with a gun. This man pulled the trigger*” Aether, realizing Susan’s plan, fought back with their own typing. *and they dodged the bullet.* *But then the bullet came back like a boomerang, making its way towards* *Aether, who had drawn their sword and sliced the bullet in half.* *Little did MC know that a meteor would fall* *into the ocean, a safe distance away from Aether.* This went on for a while. Susan, who had fingers and therefore was feeling them cramp, finally gave up. “Okay, okay, you win,” she said. “I’ll stop trying to kill you.” “Jeez, thanks,” Aether said with as much sarcasm they could muster through text. “But I’ll be the one writing the story! Let me pull up my notes and fix-” “About that,” they said nervously. “I kind of deleted it.” “...Youdidwhat?” “Look, you were wasting so much time worldbuilding that you had no time to actually finish your story! I did you a favor by-” “Ispent5yearswritingallofthat” “Susan, are you okay?” “5yearscomingupwithmagicplanetnames” Susan lifted her laptop over her head. Aether typed quickly, desperate to preserve themself. “You don’t have to do this,” they said, realizing how screwed they were. “They were just notes, you could always just-” But it was too late. Susan was no longer looking at the screen. With no hesitation, Susan chucked the laptop against the wall, hearing a satisfying crunch as it made contact. She stared at the laptop on the ground, thinking about what she just did. “Shit,” she said. “What was I thinking?” She looked mournfully at the device. “I can’t believe I just broke my laptop.” “You bitch.” Susan turned around and faced a reflection of herself. Except it wasn’t a reflection. And it couldn’t have been herself, because Susan didn’t remember owning a sword. It dawned on her who the clone might’ve been. “MC?” she asked hesitantly. “My name is Aether,” they said, now somehow feeling angrier about the nickname than the attempted murder. “Don’t move, or I’ll chase you and stab you with this sword.” “The Aether blade.” “Shut the hell up!” Aether walked over towards the laptop. Susan, who hadn’t ran since high school gym class, thought it best not to try escaping. Aether picked up the laptop and set it on the table. They looked shocked as they looked at the screen. They said, “Holy shit, it still works.” “Oh, thank god,” Susan sighed. “I didn’t want to buy another one.” Aether chuckled as they stared at the laptop’s screen. Susan suddenly didn’t feel thankful about her laptop’s durability. Still chuckling, Aether began typing with one hand. “So, how did you manage to escape?” Susan asked awkwardly, feeling a bit like a James Bond villain who had failed to kill with their deathtrap. “It was nothing really. All I did was type, *Aether escapes into the real world*. Good thing I did that before you tried *smashing me out of existence*.” “Oh, that,” Susan tried to say nonchalantly. “That was an accident. My hands… slipped.” “No wonder you can’t write a story,” Aether sighed. “You can’t even tell a convincing lie. Also I can see my reflection on the computer screen. Jesus, how narcissistic can you be to imagine the main character looking exactly like you?” “What are you going to do to me?” “You’ll see soon enough.” \*\*\* Today was another morning for Susan. She had her coffee, her laptop, and no music playing in the background. She told herself today was going to be a productive day of writing, but she didn’t think that was true anymore. To her surprise, her novel was already written. All of it. “I guess I finished it,” she said in disbelief. *Strange*, she thought. *Why was I just talking out loud just now?* She shrugged. What did it matter? She finished a book! Something she’s been dreaming of doing since middle school. Deleting the notes was painful, but apparently it led to her finally writing the book she had always wanted to write. She smiled, happier than she had been in a long time. *Aether stood over the Emperor. They had won, fair and square. Winning the duel made them the Emperor now, all they needed to do was kill…* *Aether dropped their sword.* *“What are you doing?” the Emperor said, almost sounding angry for having been spared. “You have a chance to rule, why don’t you?”* *“I don’t want it to happen this way. I’m not like you, I’m not a* ***killer***.” *The Emperor scowled at Aether. Then he bowed his head.* *“You would’ve been the better ruler,” he said bitterly.* *“Maybe,” they admitted, “but everyone deserves a second chance.”* *The Emperor looked at his old friend with a confused expression on his face.* *“Look, you did what you did. You can’t change that, but you can still make things better. You can still choose your own path, write your own story. And if you’re worried about slipping up again, don’t worry. I’ll be there to watch over you. And I will stab you if you go the wrong way.”* *The Emperor smiled and said, “You came here with a sword, beat me, and now you’re sparing me so I can ‘write my own story’? Even though I tried killing you multiple times? You really are a softie.”* *“What can I say?” Aether said, also smiling. “I’m a fan of happy endings.


There wasn’t much left of the world. The war didn’t just take away singular things, rather uprooted entire concepts, and burned feelings and ideas to ash. Things such as society, comfort, and peace of mind were not only foreign to those who were born after it, but completely incompatible. Ideas that would collapse under even the slightest scrutiny, and that were more unbelievable than even the most outlandish children’s fantasy. Yet in a world where ideas died, where plants were all but eradicated, and the constructions that once stood as monuments to humanity's ability to create fell like dominoes, people still lived. Though these things were more real, and concrete than the very concrete beneath his feet, Elliot failed to consider them. The lack of care for the past or future was one of the notable traits of the Final Generation after all. Those who lived in the world before, often still thought about things other than what was in front of them, things that may have stood there thousands of years ago, or may stand there yet millions of years in the future. But the children of the Final Generation never had the luxury of learning this skill. All they knew was how to survive in the moment. Yet even Elliot had dreams. His were far vaguer and less understood than most boys of eight, but he knew he wanted something. Elliot, as impossible as it was, wanted to see a flower. He had heard that before his world, there were all kinds of flowers. Roses as red as blood, and daisies as orange as the sun. Flowers of dazzling colors he had never seen and fields of yellow called sunflower fields. Elliot’s older sister ran over, a piece of string in her hand, and a nervous smile on her face. She was born before the Final Generation and had a taste of things such as wonder, and amazement, and dearly wished for her brother to have a chance to taste such things as well. But whenever she tried to do something for her brother, something that would show him a world before his own, it always went wrong. Things were never meant to go right in his world, he couldn’t see why she couldn’t understand that. Though he did understand this, and so felt no disappointment when whatever plan she had, went wrong, seeing the pain on her face broke his heart every time She glanced up at the star-speckled sky. And nodded to herself. “Brookline,” he said softly. “Mhm?” she said, seemingly more focused on double-checking the plan in her head. “If this doesn’t work, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad sister. It’s not your fault” he said, taking her larger hand in his. She turned to him, her eyes, which had a color crossed between hazel and gold, fixed on his. For a moment she looked confused, perhaps still reviewing part of her scheme before she smiled softly at him. “That’s sweet runt,” she said, ruffling his hair. “But us grown-ups gotta make sure you little guys get a childhood as good as our own”. Elliot found it unfair that a sixteen-year-old was forced to be an adult, but completely missed the irony in the fact that he never saw himself as a kid. “Okay, just…just don’t get sad again” he said, "Don't worry, runt" she said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice and on her face, a skill anyone born before the Final Generation clearly could not learn. “I won’t have a reason to be sad this time,” she said, pulling a lighter from her pocket. She flicked it a few times, and when she didn’t immediately get a flame, feared she never would, but eventually one came. “Okay,” she mouthed to herself. “Okay,” she repeated, this time talking to him. “It’s going to be loud okay? So, don’t get scared runt”. He nodded softly at her. “Okay,” she said one last time, before holding the flame to the string in her hand. She dropped the string as a flame started to follow it, across the barren ground. Brookline bounced up and down excitedly, but as the flame reached the tube at the end of the wick, it went out. For a moment all was silent, and Brookline’s shoulders slumped. Elliot’s heart sank as she opened her mouth, most likely to utter an apology, but before she could speak, a loud whistling sound emanated from the tube as it launched a brilliant ball of fire into the night sky. The ball exploded into a pattern of yellow light with a satisfying crackle before fizzling away. The tube-launched three more fireballs into the sky, each erupting into another beautiful yellow pattern. Elliot gasped in awe, and though he couldn’t see it, Brookline cried while grinning.


On the night of 20th February, 2020, a group of cult members gathered around a large table in a dim lit room. They were assembled to perform the yearly ritual. Each member of the cult was to participate in this ritual, on a specific day. Tonight was her turn. Nobody knew how it originated. Some historians believed that it began in the 19th Century Western Europe. Others traced it back to 15th century Germany. The Greek members of the cult started the use of wax lights. It was meant to honor the goddess Artemis. Since then wax lights have been an integral part of the ritual. A figure emerged from the other room, walking delicately towards the large table. Both the hands held ahead, he was carrying the ‘offering’ for tonight. The way he took each step meant that the ‘offering’ was not to be disturbed, yet. He gently placed the ‘offering’ at the centre of the table. Everyone in the room peered at it. The baby’s face looked adorable. Lying head sideways on the table, fast asleep. It was impossible to not love it. That doughy belly, soft hands and those tiny little fingers. The skin looked so smooth. And to imagine what would happen to it in the next few minutes, a shiver ran down her spine. *‘Why?’* she thought. ‘*Why do we have to do it?’* She was handed over the knife. She accepted it with trembling hands. Wax lights were lit around the offering. One, Two, Three, Four… Nineteen & Twenty. The tradition *had* to be followed. She was nervous. She wasn’t ready for it. ‘*This is taking it too far. We shouldn’t be doing this.’* she thought*.* Everyone around her, though anxious, gave her an encouraging nod. *‘You have to do it’*, was the unanimous call. To her, it felt wrong. Tremblingly, she looked around the room. Even through the eye masks and those stupid hats that everyone wore, tension in them was visible. “It is time,” said the person next to her. ‘*There is no getting away from this*’, she thought. She looked around and asked, “Where?” “The belly,” came a response. She knew what she had to do. She had seen it done countless times. She let out a gust of air from her mouth and the wax lights went off one by one. The knife in her hand moved towards the belly of the baby on the table. The sharp end of the knife pierced the belly and... slush… came out the gooey chocolate. Everyone in the room burst into laughter and started clapping. “This was a wicked, wicked idea,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. Everyone started singing the birthday song. The ritual of cutting cakes continues to this day. When a video of hyper-realistic cakes made by an independent cake artist Luke Vincentini was shared on Facebook. It went viral. He made cakes that looked like a kettle, a soup can, a shoe & a meatloaf. In the video, it was impossible to know that they weren’t the actual objects until a knife came on screen and sliced across it. It was only natural that someone with a dark sense of humor would one day have an idea of a hyper-realistic ‘sleeping baby’ cake.


Diane walked up the three flights of stairs to her apartment complex after a twelve-hour shift. The mental exhaustion hit her as she turned the key and opened the door. She was hit in the face with the pungent stench of bad cheese. Her husband probably started dinner early. He did like to experiment with new recipes. The bathroom was in the hall to the living room. She placed her keys on key rack and listened for movement in the kitchen. Nobody there. The light was off. She started browsing her phone when she walked into the living room. The smell was stronger. Her heart skipped a beat and her mind collapsed into shock when she saw her husband’s body slumped back on the couch, his brains splattered against the wall. “What?!” She cried. “What?! Ho–No! Baby no!” His hands were empty. There were no signs of a struggle but she couldn’t comprehend much else. In horror and disgust she retreated into the bathroom, fell to her knees, and called 911. Her hands could barely hold the phone as the line rang for several seconds. A male voice answered, “911, what’s your emergency?” Barely able to breathe she panted and wailed, ” My husbands…I think my husband’s dead…I… He…I don’t know…I can smell…his brains.” Joel’s body had been seared into her mind like a ghost image. His lifeless hands had been lying open on his legs, as if pleading for salvation. A few moments of silence passed. His voice was somehow familiar, “Mrs. Hammond, please remain calm. What is your emergency?” She froze, sinking further into shock. How did he know her name? There was no time to think. “My husband’s been shot.” Wiping away the tears that blurred her vision she choked out the words. “I just got home. I don’t know what happened…” A few more seconds passed. She wondered what was taking so long as she shook violently as if caught in a cold breeze, “My god it’s horrible. I can’t…I can’t.” “Diane,” the male operator spoke her name. Again, she was puzzled. “I know what you did. You deserve this.” “No, no, what? What are you saying?” She looked at her smart phone. The number she had dialed had been redirected to an unknown number. Fear consumed her. “What is this? Who are you?” “You deserve this. I saw the pictures, Diane. I know you were with him last night. He was my best friend. I’d asked how you could do this but I’m currently indisposed.” She tried to interrupt with what strength she had left, “I… I don’t understand.” but the voice kept speaking. “–camera in his kitchen. We could have been so much more but you ruined everything. I tried to be the best person I could be for you, tried to satisfy you. I guess it wasn’t enough.” Her pulse dropped when she recognized the automated voice. “It was supposed to be us against the world, Diane. Now it’s just you.” As the last words hit her like a freight train, she tried to use the wall as a support to stand. Everything they went through flashed before her eyes. All the memories were bittersweet and empty. The voice continued unabated, “Don’t look for the gun. After my death I had the gun hidden in a dumpster along with your fingerprints. I still have friends I can still trust. This message will be deleted, the line is untraceable. The authorities should have the gun by now.” She didn’t know how to feel. In one sense there was the loss she felt for her husband. In another reality she had just been framed for murder. Before the line dropped there was one final message, “When I said I’d die for you, I meant it. Go to hell.


*If you ever made it to the mountains' base, you would find the many entrances to the cave. At first, all you would see is three gaping mouths that lead somewhere, and if you were careful, you wouldn't end up as a meal to creatures lurking within. Of course, this wasn't a problem for Salitour, seeing as he's lived in these mountains...nearly his whole life. He knew his way around.* *With a long dark cloak made of wool and silk, and a hood covering his head, he walked on through to the second cave opening. His pointed black shoes made small stuffing sounds as he walked on through, holding an orb of light above the palm of his hand to see better. Living in such a place never bothered him, save for his mentality and the thoughts of what lurked far and beyond his reach.* *The walls had stalactites and stalagmites lining against the ceilings and floors, to which Salitour avoided. With the long corridor he went through, he descended a long stairway, and pulled down a crystal lever that looked out of place. It was an old mine shaft that worked like a dumbwaiter, that he used to go up and down his home. Once he was free to roam around in the large space below, he took off the cloak and hung it out to dry.* *His place looked like any others, according to his mind. There were a few tables sitting against the walls, all lined with metal for carving and weaponry. There was also a long red rug on the floor that kept the room warm. It looked similar to a royal throne room, hence the very large space full of pillars and tapestry lining the walls. With his cloak now off, the clothes he was wearing had the style of a rock star; the shoulders of his shirt holding jagged layers of leather, while the rest was more of a black suit with golden buttons aligning the bodice of his shirt.* *His hair was long, and tarnished with a harsh silver, though felt very soft to the touch. His skin could have matched his hair, if not for the cracks along his face and hands that made him look as though he were stone. He was well built, physically, and his eyes were always shadowed by a frown. He never liked having to go to the villages far from his home, but it was for a good cause.* *Taking out the basket he had brought with him, he placed it on one of the tables. It was time to get to work. Grabbing an unfinished sword that sat on the table, he took out an item from the basket. It looked like red sand. Walking over to his work space, he moved some objects out of the way, and held the sword at a 45° angle. With a few whispered words, the red sand turned to liquid blood and fell against the metal of the sword, making it glow and burn until it welded into place.* *Salitour watched as the blood ran along the blade, making it sharper, if not stronger and lighter than most swords he created. The hilt of the sword held the symbols of a dragon, though curbed endlessly until it hit the ball the dragon was holding underneath its claw. This was a sword that was created for sharpness and speed. No longer a heavy weight, anyone would be a fool to think of it as a toy. It could quickly slice through anything it touches, destroying what was once there.* *He had candles lit around the place, and also used his form of magic to put the sword in a glowing rest so it could be cooled down. Floating for 15 minutes, the sword fell into Salitour's grip, to which he gently pressed his fingers against the blade. Immediately his skin was cut, and his hand bled. He gives a nod of approval, his skin reforming once he takes his hand away. The cracks on his skin reformed, making him flex his fingers with another nod. It was ready to be given to the King's most trusted Knight. He will deliver it later in the evening.* *With a long journey ahead of him, he would tend to cleaning up his area, before taking leave, and going through another hidden door that showed off a long corridor of doors that went to many parts of the whole establishment. There even was a kitchen in it that he would sometimes make himself and the monster below meals. Being a wizard blacksmith was hard work, and though his customers were proud of his weaponry, no one dared to ask how he made them. It was his secret, and his secret alone; and that's how he liked it.* *Walking out of the caverns’ mouth, Salitour traveled on through the hard and cold snow, knowing what lay ahead for him. The Kingdom’s first town, Salthorn would take a couple of days to get to. With no horse or carriage; to make the trip on foot is the way Salitour could use, unless he gets some help. As the wind bit into his sharp silver skin, his golden eyes glared straight ahead as he continued his slow pace through the slush and wet snow.* *15 minutes out into his walk, he stood still, his ears picking up a sound. Tilting his head towards the sky, a being seemed to be falling from the sky. Their short screams flew by him, as they fell into the snow face first. It happened so fast, he wasn’t sure if the being was a creature or a person. Turning his whole body around now, he watched the being stumble onto their feet, and noticed that it was someone who wore something close to a wizard outfit. The colors are outlandish, with bright green and yellow, some blue and purple, and a bit of red.* *“Whoo! What a landing!” the person spoke, picking up a pointed hat that was covered in snow, only for it to be quickly dried up. Pulling their hat back onto their head, they now noticed the blacksmith standing with a nonchalant expression. “Good day, my good sir!” they spoke enthusiastically, their skin, he saw, was a peachy pink, and their eyes multi-colored: one being red, the other gold. They also had pointy ears that flickered within the wind. “I’m sorry if I stumbled upon you so suddenly. The name’s Maxwell. I’m a traveler like you, but it seems you need to be somewhere in a hurry. Can I interest you in a new way of traveling?”* *Salitour just continued to stare, allowing the person to go on. “Well then, what if I told you that I have a little snack that can help you along your journey?” Patting his pockets gently, and beginning to look about, Maxwell mumbled to himself, “Ah, where did I put those blasted things?” Taking off his hat, showing off a head of dark brown shaggy hair, he stuck his hand inside, and pulled out a small red tin box that had the symbol of a blue rose on it.* *Opening the box, there was a set of three cookies, all with different symbols upon them. Salitour looked on, not letting the man out of his sight for the moment. “These, my friend, are very special cookies that allow you to be granted any wish. But, for a price. You would be able to keep the wish going for as long as you wish, but if it starts going too far, well...that’s when you take this.” Maxwell pulls out a small vial that was filled with a red liquid that looked crystalized. “Drink this at the stroke of midnight, and your wishes will fade. No one will remember anything, only you will know what happened. You shall tell no one, for it’s only your secret, and yours alone.”* *Both men gave glances to the other, before Maxwell broke out in a loud laugh, “Shall we start by getting you where you need to go? It takes you 2 days to get to the town of Salthorn, right?”* *“How did-”* *“Ah, this I will tell in time, but I can see you’ll be late in your arrival. So please, take it. This is a once in a lifetime offer.”* *“And...you’re not charging?”* *“No charge needed, sir. Just your happiness is all I prefer. Mm? Are you interested?”* *Maxwell held out the cookies with a smile as bright as a sunny day. Salitour stared at the cookies, and then back at the salesman. Placing his hand upon the box, he held it in a tight grip; and no sooner had Salitour touched the box’ Maxwell quickly vanished. The vial hung around Salitour’s neck, and with a blink of his eyes, he couldn’t remember what he was doing standing. He needed to get to the King’s Palace in a couple days. Staring down at the box in his grasp, he frowns and opens it to see 3 cookies. All of them had writing on it, “Make A Wish,” he read slowly with his eyes.* *Taking out one cookie, he took one bite; tasted the sweetness of it, and quickly finished it. His mind soon flooded with images of things he could do with the power he held. He could wish for anything, but being the smart man he was; he only had one task. “I wish I had wings, so that I could fly.”* *Just as he spoke the wish, he fell to the ground, dropping the prized sword as his body began to writhe in pain. Gasping for air, his hands fell to the snow, gripping it tightly as his heart thumped slowly in his chest. A sharp pain ran through his back, causing him to groan as the structure of bones pushed their way out from his skin, forming the shape of wings. They ripped his cloak, soaking it in blood as a mass of veins, tissue, and muscle formed along the bones, before dark grey skin formed over it; tightening into place. As he sat up, panting heavily as tears ran down his face from the pain it caused him, he stood up on shaking legs, feeling the tips of his wings grow in, and the rest form against the bones of his spine. His hand grasped the sword, and anything else he brought with him. The box was placed into his pockets, while the vial still sat underneath his shirt.* *Now that he was standing, he could feel the wind pass against the new pair of wings that stretched far, the colors of a dark grey and navy blue blended together. They were like dragon wings, powerful and steady. His mind sent messages to the pair, silently making them flap gently within the wind. They had feelings, and now he could go on his way. Sending more messages, he pursed his lips, his golden eyes glaring as he spoke one word, “Fly.”* *His wings flapped heavily against the wind, and his body soon shot into the sky. He was nearly 20 feet off the ground, and could see the landscape getting smaller and smaller, until he began the journey towards Salthorn.


's prompt: You and your team of scientists have created a gateway that transport you to anywhere in the world. But once you decide to step through it, you being to realize that you've stepped into an alternate universe. Gary went downstairs and saw his wife, Sam, making breakfast. She smiled at him, prompting Gary to kiss her on the cheek. “Hi, dear,” Gary said, “that smells heavenly.” “Thanks. So, today’s the special day, huh? Teleportation technology, right?” Gary nodded. “Yeah, but I doubt today’s going to be any different. We tried it before, and still no luck.” “Well, I’m sure you and your team will figure out something,” Sam said comfortingly. “Let’s hope.” Gary walked over to an elderly woman sitting at the dining table. He kissed her on the cheek as well. “Hey, Mom, how are you doing today?” he asked. “Where’s your father?” she said, looking a bit worried. “He should be here by now.” Gary grimaced. His father had been dead for years now. If his mother got any worse, he would have to seriously think about putting her in a home. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough,” he said, trying to sound convincing. His mother nodded, seeming to already forget what the conversation had been about. Moments later, Gary’s twin daughters, Jill and Eve, came downstairs to eat breakfast. Jill asked, “Hey, Dad, are you free on Saturday?” “I think so,” Gary said. “Why, you want to do something then?” “How about we watch a movie?” Eve suggested. “There’s this new movie coming out called *Captain Patriot: Great Rebellion*.” “*Captain Patriot*?” he said. “There making another one?” “Yeah, this one is where Captain Patriot’s team fights Titanium Woman’s team,” Jill said. “I thought Titanium Woman was a superhero too?” “She is. It makes sense if you saw the last one.” “I just hope Captain Patriot wins, he’s so hot,” Eve said with a dreamy look in her eyes. Gary knew his daughters were growing, but a little part of him still died when he overheard them say things like “hot” to describe anyone. Gary finished breakfast, wished his daughters a good day at school, and drove to work. While he drove, he heard a news story on the radio. Another scandal with President Robert Smith. Gary shook his head in disapproval. Once he drove up to his workplace, he went in and got everyone together to give his speech. “Today is our last chance to test this out,” Gary said to the room of scientists. “We’re going to be very busy and we’ll probably have to miss lunch. Just know that even if this doesn’t work, I’m still proud of the effort we put into this project. Now, let’s get started.” Gary and the other scientists spent hours putting the last finishing touches to their teleportation machine. They fixed certain issues, reworked some of their ideas, and prayed that all of this would be enough to get it working. Eventually, they were ready to test their machine on a quarter. The moment of truth had arrived. The coin was lying heads up on a large platform in the center of the room. The scientists pressed different buttons, pulled switches, and coordinated with another team on the other side of the country, where the coin would hopefully be transported to. Everyone gave a thumbs up, and Gary pulled the final lever. There was a flash of light in the room, and everyone held their breaths. When the light disappeared, everyone stared at the platform. To their disappointment, there was no coin. They got a call from the scientists on the other side of the country, and they confirmed that the coin was still lying tails up on their platform. Gary gathered up the scientists again. “I still stand by what I said earlier,” he said. “I’m proud of what we did. It’s better to be ambitious than not try at all. I’ll see you all next week.” He said his farewells to his coworkers, packed his stuff, and drove home. While he drove, he heard a news story on the radio. Another scandal with President Elizabeth Taylor. Gary shook his head in disapproval. Once he drove up to his house, he went in and joined his family for dinner. While Gary ate, he overheard his twin sons, Jack and Adam, talking about a movie. “I just hope Radiance wins, he’s so hot,” Adam said with a dreamy look in his eyes. “The last one was pretty good, I just hope this one is too,” Jack said. “You two talking about a superhero movie?” Gary asked. “Yeah, this one is about Radiance fighting the Warden.” “Can’t believe they're making another Radiance movie,” Gary said in disbelief. “You know, they made one when I was around your age too.” “You should watch it with us, Dad,” Jack suggested. “We were planning to watch *Warden v. Radiance* anyway.” “Why not? Are you two free tomorrow?” “Saturday? Yeah, we’re free.” When dinner ended, the twins went upstairs. Gary noticed his father nodding off. He went over to him. “Dad, you look like you’re about to fall asleep soon. Let’s get you to bed.” As Gary helped his father to his room, he couldn’t help thinking about his mother, who had been dead for years now. His mother had similar symptoms his dad was having now, and if he got any worse, Gary would have to seriously think about putting him in a home. As if he could read his mind, Gary’s father asked, “Where’s your mother? She should be here by now.” “She’ll be back today, Dad, don’t worry.” Gary replied. Gary helped his elderly father into bed and kissed him on the cheek. Gary headed upstairs and found Sam in bed, reading. “I hope there’s more room in there,” Gary said, “because I’m exhausted.” “I’m guessing you and your team didn’t figure something out,” Sam said while putting down the book. Gary shook his head. “No, unfortunately today was no different. It was the same as before, no luck.” “I’m sorry today wasn’t your special day. Teleportation technology sounded like it would’ve been wonderful.” As Gary climbed into bed and got close to Sam, he said, “Dear, you smell heavenly.” Sam smiled, prompting Gary to kiss his husband on the cheek.


\-- Five o’clock shadow. Rabbit fur hat. Flannel shirt. Gun holster. Snakeskin boots, with brand-new spurs that clanked as he climbed down from his horse outside the old corner store in town. People stared at him as he walked past, the five-pointed star on his chest winking in the bronze sunrise. *Let them look,* the stranger thought, chewing the straw in his mouth and *clank, clank, clanking* off the edge of the road. The doors splayed wide as he entered, and the shopkeep paused, one eye on the man’s face, another on the six-shooter in the holster slung just underneath the belt. “I don’t want any trouble,” the shopkeeper tried with little success to keep the quavering note from his voice. “Ain’t gon’ get none from me,” said the stranger, throwing a bag of peanuts on the counter, “Say, you know where a man can get a decent drink in this here town?” “Uh, sure,” said the shopkeep, “There’s the tavern, up the road. Just next to the sheriff’s department.” The stranger smiled, and switched the straw from one side of his mouth to the other. “Why thank ‘ee kindly,” he said, “I happen to be headin’ that way as it is. Keep the change,” he added, tossing a series of coins onto the counter. The shopkeeper stared as the stranger strutted from the store. Taking his horse by the reins, the stranger walked with deliberate calm down to the tavern. Next to it was the sheriff’s department. He thought to wet his whistle before presenting himself there, but thought better of it. There would be plenty of time for celebrating later. He would need a drink for his horse, though. The barkeep had much the same reaction as the shopkeeper had. *The ol’ sheriff musta done things different,* he thought. “I need a pail o’ water for my horse out there,” he said. The barkeep said nothing, but fetched it as requested. *None too friendly round here, are they?* The new Sheriff thought. He left the pail out for his horse, then patted him on the neck and wandered, bow-legged, into the Sheriff department. No sooner had the bell on the door chimed than he heard a *whoa there, hands up*! And the sound of five or more guns being pulled on him. “Easy there, boys,” the new sheriff said, “Heard y’all needed a replacement Sheriff?” One of the officers was speaking into a radio, muttering something about backup. Another had rushed outside and checked on the horse, and came back saying “That’s the one sir, matches the branding of the call from the Mackenzie's farm we received yesterday.” A man was frantically taking notes on his laptop, and another man with a Sheriff’s badge came out. A real badge. Black, with a silver lining. “What the *hell* do you think you’re playing at, son?” he said, as he took the toy revolver from the holster.


_I might start turning these little story starters into actual stories. I'm going to just give a sample of one, and you can tell me what your thoughts are on it, deal? Thanks! First up!_ **19. Rose Garden** *A soft humming tune filled the air, as a petite figure busied herself with watering the large garden of red, golden yellow, and pink roses. As she hummed, and the water can went spraying all over the petals and leaves, she thought to herself, 'What a wonderful morning for gardening.' A soft giggle followed, as her strawberry blonde hair bounced from the joy in her step, as she pranced over to refill the can.* *"Quite a wonderful garden you have there, Cherilee!" a male's voice rang out, catching her off guard, making her nearly drop the can of water.* *"Oh, um, good morning to you too, Mr. Finner! I see you're admiring my garden," she replied, running over to the gate to open it up for the 30 year old man.* *He wore a dark blue and black suit proudly, with a spectacle covering one eye, and a top hat sitting upon his mop of brown hair, combed nicely. With a smile, he looked upon the roses of many colors, and walked in with his hands behind his back.* *"My, my, you sure have been busy, haven't you Miss Cherilee," he commented, taking out his pocket watch to check the time briefly, before putting it away.* *"Why yes, Mr. Finner! Getting up every morning to make sure my beautiful children get their water is what I live for!" Cherilee spoke proudly, giggling as she pranced back over to a bush she hadn't attended to yet.* *The man watched her in silence, keeping his hands behind his back. He wondered how such a petite young lady managed a garden like this all by herself. Walking over to watch her water the red roses, he raised an eyebrow with curiosity.* *"So, how did you manage to work on this garden of yours? It's pretty exquisite to be one of such talent."* *Cheriliee gives a dark smirk for a moment's glance from the Professor, before giggling lightly. "Oh Mr, Finner, you flatter me. I've been working on this garden for years. It's one of my greatest achievements! To keep the garden fed, and the leaves trimmed, it's one of my greatest pleasures."* *"Oh really? Well, that sounds absolutely splendid. Oh my, look at the time! I must be off. History won't teach itself. Have a wonderful day, Miss Cherilee."* *The man quickly left her humble garden, only to hear a whisper in his ear speak softly to him.* *"Help us!"* *Hearing the sudden sound of a whisper calling for help, the Professor turned his gaze back towards Cherilee, who was busy pulling up some weeds for the moment.* *"Did you say something, dear?" he asks, scratching his head lightly.* *"Pardon? I don't believe I said anything, but I hope your day goes well!"* *"Yes...uh...you too..."* *Once the gate was closed behind him, it locked automatically, making Cherilee stand slowly with the weed cutter held tightly in her grip. Giving off a dark aura of anger, she turned to the rest of her garden with a wicked grin, "Who spoke up? Who?"* *The garden stayed silent, making her eyebrow twitch with impatient, "Speak up now! Who was it?!"* *A small rose bud peeked out of the corner of one of the bushes, showing off a pair of bright blue eyes full of fear. "I-it was me..." it spoke in a soft tone.* *Cherilee walked over slowly to them, and fell to her knees, before taking the bud gently within her fingers. She could feel the rose bud shivering, rustling up their leaves and wanting to hide their face with its petals.* *"So, what made you think you can go around asking strangers for help, hm? Did I give you permission to speak? DO you want the others to pay for your disobedience?? Must I always be so patient with you??"* *Without waiting for a word, she used the weed cutter to snip the rose from its stem, making a dribble of blood pour from the bush. The rest of the garden whimpered and gasped as Cherilee mercilessly crushed the rose bud.* *Standing to her feet, she growls, "Let this be a lesson to you, lot! I will only keep you here for as long as I want, and you will never defy me, or you'll all end up with the same fate! I gave you a home, I keep you well fed, and this is the thanks I get?!" She threw the rose on the ground, and stomped it to pieces. "You will stay silent, unless I give the order to speak, understand!?"* *The garden fell silent, making her chuckle, as she went back to her pretty cheerful tone, "Good. That's all I wanted to hear. Silence."* *~~* A pile of papers were placed inside of another filing cabinet, as Bennett did his best not to complain. The work pile up was ridiculous, his coworkers were off on other duties, and he still hadn't been able to capture the one causing so much trouble for the city. There have been many cases of children going missing in the nearby areas, as of late, and still the only clues the man has found, were pictures with info of whom was missing. The parents were becoming devastated, and some even began thinking of moving to a different state or another city. None would think that their children was dead, since it has been a few years that these cases have come about. Just where is this captor, and why children under the ages from 5 to 9? Sighing deeply, Bennett plopped down into his seat, running a hand over his tired face. Working late night hours again, just for this; it was slowly driving him nuts. Who knows what those children were up against? What was the captor trying to say? Opening up a cabinet underneath his desk, he took out the files of the recent missing children of this year. Mattie Williams. Age 8. Kasey Jockins. Age 9. Peter Alleck. Age 6. Raven Yorkshire. Age 9. And Thomas Dilsworth. Age 7. 5 children in a span of a few months. How did it get so bad, and what was this captor’s motive? For all Bennett knew, this captor was interested in gingers and dirty blondes, but why? It was already creepy enough, but to be specific, the girls were the red heads, and the boys were dirty blondes. Why? Just why? Groaning in frustration, he bends over the folders and paperwork. “Ugh.” A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, making him nearly jump out of his chair, only to see one of his friends grinning down at him. “Hey Ben, what’s going on tonight? Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.” Groaning again, Ben turned back to his friend with a light smirk, “Very funny, Kyle. I’m just going over some more paperwork.” “Business is still booming?” “For the most part, trying to solve this case without any leads is getting me nowhere.” The tall man gives a chuckle, placing a platter of food next to the detective, while taking a seat next to him. “What are you doing here anyway, Kyle? I thought you were banned from coming to see me,” Ben joked, taking the can of soda from his friend, who gives a soft laugh. “I just wanted to check up on my buddy. Can’t have you staying overnight again, can I? You do have a bad habit of letting your work get to you. Can I see what you got working for ya?” Sliding the files over to him, Kyle studied the children’s profiles, humming lightly in thought. “Hm. Seems like a pattern to me. Why do you think they are interested in children, anyways?” After taking a swig from his drink, Ben gave a shrug, placing it onto the table, “Who knows? I’m not getting anywhere like this.” “Oh, that reminds me, I brought you this too,” Kyle mentions, placing a file down onto the table. It was a brand new kind of envelope that was black, with white letters written on it: Classified. “What’s this?” Ben asks, opening the file carefully, so as not to rip anything. Usually files like these meant whatever profile was behind it, the person was seriously dangerous, or just mentally insane. “You know that mansion up on Blue Hill, Ave?” Kyle asks curiously, watching as Ben looks over the file. “The one with that huge rose garden you mean?” Ben frowns in thought, while Kyle nodded. “Yes. Lovely garden, isn’t it?” Ben nods, now concentrating on the file. There was a girl with long dark brown hair on it, with a wide smile that looked a little too forced to be real. She had pale skin, and light green eyes, and was wearing a prisoner’s outfit. Her name was Muriel Josephine Kinley, Age 24. Her reasons for imprisonment were blotted out, and her history wasn’t there either. Ben couldn’t get much from this, if anything at all. “Just thought I’d give you another file to add to your suspects list,” Kyle mentions, sipping his soda, before crushing it and throwing it far into the trash bin. “Have you ever seen this girl? Why would she be a suspect? Isn’t she in prison?” “Nope. Word got out that she’s escaped, and is on the run, apparently. But, it’s been a few years, and no one’s seen her since. Think she could be out there wrecking havoc?” “Could be. I’ll keep an eye out for the time being. I think I’ll call it quits for tonight, my head hurts.” Ben placed all of the files back into his drawer, locking it with the key, before planting it into his pocket. Getting up and grabbing his jacket, he turns back to see Kyle cleaning their food and placing it into a bag. “Are you crashing at my place again, Ky?” he asks, while he looked over the office, before turning out the lights. “Yes man, if you don’t mind. My roommate was having friends over, and I wanted to get some air anyways. While you get some rest, I might watch some footage we had gotten that may confirm who the perp was that robbed the city’s museum again.” “Don’t they usually have the Eagle Agency working in that department?” Ben led them both to his car, quickly getting in and turning the engine on. “You’re forgetting that I had to go undercover as the museum manager, while he was on vacation to keep a lookout. Sadly, the perp got away with the find, and the police are on the case. The Agency though I heard, has hired another to get on the case. Black Phoenix is the name.” “Black Phoenix, huh? If heros are taking lightly to such petty names, I’d say that one is unique, but you know, who cares nowadays?” “Haha, you got that right.” “What was stolen again?” “The Egyptian Sphere. Says it can grant anyone any wish, but it’s limited. Some say others who have sought after it, and used its powers, ended up dead in the long run.” Ben chuckles, “Guess they couldn’t handle the rules, huh?” To be continued...


Chapter 1 The not so great Jimmy “I will live on!” Were the final words I spoke before my vison disappeared and there was nothing not even the color black, then suddenly I woke up and found my surroundings were strange to say the least. Numbers 1-180 were colorful and laid out in a pattern across the walls obviously being some sort of unfamiliar magic I was not accustomed to. There was an area in a room around maybe thirty feet away with shapes that were also colorful. Gods black hands! I could see again clearly as if I were in my youth again! I must have not kept my dialogue to myself because a giant of a woman came up to me. “Jimmy? Is everything okay? Do you need to use the little boy’s room?” Who the hell does this beast think I am? I am no Jimmy I am the great Edward capable of bringing the dead back to life, I am the one who makes the holiest of priests turn from there god and get on their knees to kiss the floor I stand on. I am he who commands the shadows, the dead and everything else that is dark. No one calls me by another’s name and gets away with it. I reached for my magic, O there would be a great- “What in the seven hells! It’s gone!!!!” I said in a squeaky voice not recognizing it to be my own. “Jimmy!” The startled giant said. “Language!” “Where did my power go wench! Tell me and your death will be quick and painless!” The giant did not seem to be in fear of my unusually squeaky voice and instead the look of surprise, shock, anger, confusion and many more shades of emotions went on her face and she was silent for a long moment. She starred at me for an uncomfortable amount of time and picked me up as if I was an infant and carried me off to who knows where. I kicked and thrashed and then I went limp when I realized my hands they no longer were darkened by age, they were tiny and no longer bared the many scars from years of battle and I realized that I was a child once more. I was set down in an area with a fence of some sort that was not made of crude metal but instead was vibrant in color and seemed to be made with a material I had no knowledge of. This was not good I thought, I needed to get my books and see if I could figure my situation out. “Jimmy? Where did you learn that naughty language?” I quickly reacted knowing that she was oblivious to the fact that I was the great wizard that brought down empires, I had to blend in with the sheep be a wolf in sheep’s clothing if you will. “Ms. I’m sorry I said such harsh atrocities to you, I give my deepest apologies.” I bowed my head sickened to think I was groveling to this inferior- “Jimmy your pronouncing your English so well! When did you learn all those big words?” She said in an excitable voice mixed with praise. “I’m so proud of you big man.” Proud? No one has ever been proud of me. A warm partially sickening partially unknown feeling went through my body making me feel something I’d never felt before. “May I borrow one of your books from your library Ms., It doesn’t have to be about sorcery it can be about the land or maybe-” She handed me a thin book still to big for my tiny hands and it had drawings of animals from the forests that looked to friendly to be real and had the common man’s tongue written on it. “All the forests creatures with you and I” I read out loud confused by the riddle. Apparently, I spoke out loud again because this excited the what I am beginning to suspect adult woman and brought more praise out from her mouth making me want to vomit mixed with that weird sensation again. Why was I a child again? At the end of the day I learned a lot about my new environment, the adult woman that lectured me on what was known as bad words was called Ms. Hoffman I also learned that apparently I have parents once more, which surprised me considering my Father had been dead for almost fifty years and no amount of necromancy could bring back a guy that had his soul ripped apart by a never ending void. A loud fast clanging noise which was dubbed the school bell immediately made all the other children react by forming a line at the door. So, they did have magic after all, and it seemed to be one of the darker forms meant for manipulating the weaker minds in doing things for another’s gain. I pondered what the reasoning could be to make children line up and then it clicked they must be preparing for war by training there susceptible minds at an early age. Someone tapped me on the shoulder interrupting my thought process, I whirled around to find it was the teacher looking down smiling at me. It was weird she didn’t smile in a condescending way it seemed almost genuine. “Jimmy? Are you going to line up with the rest of your classmates for recess?” I didn’t want her to know that the spell she had put on the rest wasn’t working on me, the last thing I needed was to battle another’s mental power while my magic was basically non-existent. “Ummm yes I will join my classmates in your recess.” I stood in line nervous knowing I did not know how there drills worked, I didn’t even have enough magic left to do a simple vail to keep me hidden. My heart pounded and I followed in the back of the line watching as another adult lead us to my possible demise. Okay so I was expecting some sword mastery drills or hand to hand combat or maybe even some team exercises in taking down enemy camps with non-magical combat technics. Instead I was lead outside where all the children burst into laughter and screaming and ran as fast as they could to objects that I did not have to foggiest clue on what they were. “Jimmy? Aren’t you going to play with your friends?” I looked around and saw several enormous castle-like structures in the distance all looking similar in color. “Mavra, Jackeal or one of my many other foes must rule now.” “Oooo are those your arch nemesis Jimmy?” The teacher asked kneeling down with a grin and a twinkle in her eye. She must be one of my enemies top recruiters or maybe even one of their top soldiers although I could not sense any magic pulsing from her body, it was possible she had trained herself in the perfection of hiding her powers, if that was the case I was up against a truly worthy adversary. After adjusting to the scenery outdoors and going back inside to cut out shapes and glue them to outlines and labeling them, my body felt strange it took me a few moments to place what this feeling was and I realized it was tiredness from the apparent long day my body had endured. I hadn’t had to go to sleep in twenty maybe thirty years. There’s a certain point of a wizard’s life that we no longer need to sleep. It feels annoying to have to go to sleep again, in a way sleep it was its own sort of spell that nature put on the weak. I closed my eyes and laid my head on my desk passing out letting my body recover. I was awoken by one of my classmates saying something along the lines of it not being nap time yet and I shook the child’s hand away from my shoulder a sleepily told him or her to leave me be. This apparently didn’t work and encouraged the little brat to double down its annoying tactics calling me childish names and got my blood boiling. “Would you kindly fuck off you little shit.” Silence went through the room all eyes were on me or in my general direction. “He said a potty word.” A little boy uttered to his classmates. I was about to say something quick witted when my hand was grabbed by a much bigger hand and I was firmly yanked out of my seat and lead by Ms. Hoffman to the colorful gate again and put in it. When she spoke, she had a seriousness to her voice that was probably supposed to frighten me. “I’m calling your Father this instant young man and we will be talking about your use of bad words.” My heart dropped down to the pit of my stomach, my Father when I was young was not someone to take lightly when he was angered. The last time I angered my Father I received a beating and whipping that I would never forget. I didn’t want to be put back in the dungeon. Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to sob knowing I was going to get punished severely. After Ms. Hoffman called my Father in the most bizarre way with no circle, blood or candles my Father showed up and walked into the room. He was not my Father. My Father was thin and frail, short with little hair and was pale white like a living corpse that had been recently resurrected. This man was the total opposite. He was chubby, with a thick black beard and he towered over Ms. Hoffman like a mountain would to even the tallest of trees. His presence had no darkness and even standing here now knowing very well that this man could end me if he wished I knew he wouldn’t by the energy he was giving off. “Son come over here please.” Please? When was the last time I heard the word please in a sentence that was not someone begging for their lives? I walked over to the giant man feeling relief that I would not be dying today, and I looked up at the man’s face. I was met with a disappointed look like someone looking at a dumb dog that had shit on their favorite rug. His enormous hand engulfed mine and I could feel the roughness of his hand like they belonged to a carpenter or a blacksmith and not the hands of a wizard. He said something to Ms. Hoffman about how he was going to take me home early and the rest of the conversation was lost to me while I let the questions in my mind swirl around endlessly. The man took me away from the place that Ms. Hoffman was stationed at and my jaw dropped when I saw the thing he was taking me to. The closest thing I could think of that even partially resembled the thing in front of me was a carriage, except this had no horse and it was shiny like a silver coin in the light and it was just so magnificent. “What is this?” I asked pointing to the horseless carriage. The man claiming to be my Father looked down at me with a confused expression. “What this?” He touched the carriage with his index finger. “It’s our car.” He said looking at me as if he just found out I had fucked the neighbor’s goat. “I thought I already taught you what this was?” “Uh yah I’m sorry I must have just forgot what it was called.” He starred at me some more. “Son are you feeling alright?” “Yes, Father I feel just fine.” Hearing a bizarre sound, I looked up at the sky and saw a bird like structurer flying higher than the highest mountains, streaming something white like smoke behind it. One thing was clear now, now more than ever, I was no longer in my home world. I was either put under a spell and my mind was now drifting in this bizarre world of wonders or the other scenario that I had died in my previous life and one of the many gods had reincarnated me into this world. One thing was for sure, dream world or reincarnated life it did not matter the only goal I had was getting back to my world and killing my enemies once and for all. I’ve fought high priests that had the wrath of there God behind them, I’ve fought rogue warlocks that made the very air crackle and pop with electricity from there sheer will power and I once even tamed the great four headed hydra that devoured entire villages near the ocean in a night. All of that in mind and I still had my heart leap into my throat when I went from waiting for the horses to arrive to moving faster than I have ever went in my life. Fucking teleportation for the first time is less frightening then being in this beast. It took all my will power not to scream, no you know what scratch that I don’t think I could have screamed even if I wanted to, but hey I learned something fancy and new. I found out that seatbelts are required because it is the law. Gods must have sent me to one of the seven hells because I hated this with all my black heart. We finally got to our destination and I got out of the car with a nervous tick that made my eye look like I was trying to wink at whatever was in front of me. My trauma from the ride soon melted from my mind when I looked at the enormous castle that stood in front of my very feet. Gods. I thought to myself my family must be as important and rich as my last family. My new Dad held my hand and walked to the entrance of the castle and I was disappointed by the small size of the door, then I realized that maybe this world had no need for enormous doors like I was use to. We made are way up the creaky old stairs, and I saw dozens of wooden doors each with a number on them. We got to a door that had the number 017. My excitement went out the door and I felt less sure that this was a castle and had suspicions that we were instead in an Inn. The door opened and the room turned out to be more cramped then I previously feared. “O my god I’m in a commoner’s family.” I whispered to myself not caring if anyone heard me. I wallowed in self pity before I was interrupted by a pleasant feminine voice calling out my new name from a not so distant part of the room. A woman no older than her early 30’s came into view with the with the most beautiful shade of red hair that I had ever seen, with a black dress, rosy pink blush on her cheeks and smelled like she just got done baking a custard of some kind. Maybe Apple flavor? “There’s my little man!” She said in that pleasant tone again and swept me up like a doll off the floor and kissed me all over my face and proclaimed me to be so sweet that she could eat me up. I didn’t know how to feel about that but sensing she had no ill will towards me I chalked it up to be a metaphor that I was not accustomed to. She put me back down gently on the floor and embraced and gave my new Father a powerful seductive kiss that seemed to put the poor man into a trance. Lucky bastard got a hotter wife than I could have ever dreamed of, but on the bright side she seemed like the type of Mother that I’d dreamed of when I was a young boy starving in the fields of Tarahost. If I had to live in a commoner family until I made my way back to my world than this was not such a bad start to my temporary new life.


Someone knocked on my door. Actually, knocking is too polite of a term for what that bastard was doing. So I’ll rephrase: some shitheel, pompous, smells-of-piss asshat was hammering on my door, keeping me from my well deserved rest and waking me up at the crack of dawn. “Invester!” they shouted. “Invester, open up!” I rolled over in my cot, cracking open one eyelid that was crusty with sleep. I looked out the window and saw the sun barely peeking over the horizon. “Fuck off, it’s barely light out!” I shouted and rolled back to face the wall. Bastard peasants, no sense of decency. “It’s sunset you prick! Open the fucking door!” I groaned and opened my one eye again to take a second look at the sun. Sure as harpy-pox, the sun was going down, not coming up. “I said, it’s barely light out, not that it’s early. Leave me alone.” I shouted at the door again and lay back down. The barrage of fists against my door was like several cannons going off in sequence. “Invester!” the man shouted, his thin, reedy voice making an excellent harmony with his pounding. I growled and sat up, rubbing my eyes and the bags under them. Wincing with aches and pain from a hard night before, I stumbled across the room to the door, my boots clunking on my floor. I hadn’t bothered to get undressed much after getting in yesterday. Or possibly this morning. With one hand I started performing the necessary gestures to unseal the door and with the other I grabbed my wineskin I kept by the door for just such an emergency. The glyphs on the door unsealed with a light glow and the lock clicked. I whipped the door open quickly to catch my harasser off guard. “What in the Five Hades do you want?” I growled as I twisted the cork of the wineskin with my teeth. He was a fat man, with thick sausage fingers and jowls that quivered when he talked. Kinda short, but I’m not one to talk. He was wearing normal travellers clothes but sporting several large rings and a heavy amulet around his neck with a gem in the middle. His watery eyes did a quick once over of my own regal attire of worn boots, stained shirt, and heavy overcoat. I had somehow managed to remove my pants without taking off my boots last night. “You’re the invester? Leander Norric?” asked the fat man, disbelievingly. “Obviously I am or I would have come to greet you with a heavy cudgel, and I don’t mean this one.” I replied as I scratched my groin through my drawers. I was still trying to wrench the cork out of the flask. “I’ll ask once more and then I’m going back to bed and you can beat your hands bloody for all I care. What. Do. You. Want-aha!” I suddenly freed the cork with a satisfying pop that rang with the promise of sweet nectar. “I need to hire you. Some… *thing* is robbing me blind and if I lose any more of my inventory-”. “Talk to the guards.” I interrupted and gestured to the soldiers on patrol nearby. Their loud clanking armor was doing more damage to my aching head than the battering of my door just a few seconds ago. “They won’t investigate! They said it was supernatural in nature-” sputtered the fat man. “Talk to the church then. Any of them, doesn’t matter which.” I raised the flask to my lips, my parched throat clamoring for wine. “They said it’s ‘not a demonic or malicious entity worthy of exorcism by the church’” pleaded the fat man. “They told me I wasn’t praying enough and that I was being tested.” “The only one being tested here is me.” I said fiercely, lowering my flask to glower at the man. “I don’t work for cheap, if you want to trade a goat for a chore go find a farmers kid to shoo whatever it is you got out with a broom-” “I’ll pay you double your fee if you can come with me, right now, invester.” Interrupted the fat man. I stopped and reconsidered him. He had the look of desperation about him, wringing his hands and shifting his weight. “Double you say?” I asked as I raised my flask again. “Double, but we have to go now and I need this solved immediately.” he confirmed, his many chins wobbling. I squeezed the wineskin but only a couple sour drops of wine dripped onto my tongue, leaving me with an even greater thirst. Disgusted with the traitorous bag, I re-corked it. “Three things.” I said. “Number one, I decide on the price after I see what I’m dealing with. Number two, I can’t promise it’ll be solved ‘immediately’. You might have any number of ghoulish beasties or shit-flinging curses on your shop or you and some of those take time to remove.” “I heard you solved the McTravers problem within a couple hours.” said the fat man, looking unimpressed. “Did you hear that I spent those couple hours moving an enchanted needle a total of three inches because any faster would have killed their damn foolish boy? Did you hear that part? Didn’t think so. We do this *my way*. Which is to say slow and safe.” “Fine, your way. What was the third thing?” “Third, I need my pants. Go fill this-” I shoved my empty wineskin at him. “And I’ll get dressed. Your shop far?” “I have a horse and cart.” “Good.” I slammed my door in his face and turned around. My single room hut was cluttered and messy, the wood stove stone cold and the bed a mess. I sighed and rummaged for my pants, pulling them on. Dressed, I knelt down to open my trunk. My work chest was a handsome piece of furniture, and functional. The carved oak was strong and thick, the steel and silver trim was bright and shiny. I undid the locks, some magical, some with keys. Opening the chest, watching the shelves spring up, I considered what to bring for this job. Hand crossbow, yes, with ammo. Silver daggers, no, wouldn’t be any better than an average knife. Holy water, nah, the church didn’t think it was devilish or demonic. Salt pouch, yes could be all I needed. I packed the gear and an assortment of powders into some of my coat’s pockets and made sure I had my notebook and charcoal in another. The paper in the little notebook was probably worth more than the chest and all its contents so I made sure it was secure in my chest pocket. My knees popped as I stood back up, grunting. I stretched my arms toward the ceiling and felt something in my back slip into place. “Alright.” I muttered. “Let’s go.” I stumped over to the door and whipped it open. My client stood there, the wineskins bulging with promise. “Fast.” I grunted, taking it from him.” “I filled it right over there.” he said, pointing. I followed his fat finger with my eyes and saw him pointing at the well nearby, where people came and went with their containers of water. I opened the bag, took a swig of water to rinse the fuzz out of my mouth and spat. Then I upended the bag, dumping the water into the mud, splattering some passersby who gave me some dirty looks. Dunno why they were so fussed, they were all caked in shit and mud anyway. I probably made them cleaner. “Now take this and get me a proper drink in it. That your cart?” I asked, gesturing with my head. “Yes.” said the fat man shortly. “Good, I’ll be in there. Wake me up when we get there and for fuck’s sake, put some real wine in the bag.” I started off toward the carriage. “You’re a right bastard Norric, you know that?” shouted the fat man. “Yeah, but you’re gonna deal with me all the same, aren’t ye?” I mumbled to myself as I climbed into the cart, sniffing a bit at the smell of horse and oats. I shoved a bag of feed into a corner, sat up against it, and looked at the setting sun. We probably wouldn’t be at my clients residence until after dark if he took a cart to get here. “Fuck.” I mumbled out loud. Everything was meaner at night. Especially people. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. “Oye, wake up.” I was nudged rudely by a booted foot. “We’re here.” I opened my eyes. We were stopped outside a building near the edge of a forest. There were some other homes and stores nearby but this was clearly way out on the edge of the city’s limits. The enterprising individuals who staked a claim out here called it the Wilds.. It was a fitting name. Beasts, bandits, tax collectors, ghouls of all sorts lurked out here. Most communities required a steady immigration their first year out here, just to maintain the population while they sorted out whatever it was that was killing them. Sometimes it was a disease; not surprising given the rough conditions. Other times they called someone like me. I didn’t have an official title for my occupation. Fixer was sometimes used or invester. I don’t like invester though, makes me sound like a stuffy clerk for a bank. But it was short for investigator, as in “Oh wee lad, gon’ up ta hill n’get that *invester* fella\*.\* Something’s gon and killed all ta cows and yer mum and ta neighbours.” Grisly murders. Mysterious disappearances. Strange happenings. Curses. Basically whatever the government and church decided they didn’t think was worth their time or want their hands sullied with, people came to me. I didn’t work cheap but I charged fairly. Seventy gold crowns from the wealthy alderman who didn’t want people to know that his son had been cursed by a jilted lover. Just one crown and bed for the night from the poor village that was being haunted by a ghoul. I dirtied my hands on the regular, often visiting the underbelly of the city to find the answers I was being paid for. This job looked soft though. The village we were in was well lit, regular guards walking in pairs. The shop we had stopped in front of looked fine too; showing no signs of abuse or the advanced decay that cursed buildings often have. “Well? Aren’t you coming?” asked the fat man impatiently. He was already off the cart and unlocking the front door. No magic on his locks, just a single key. That alone told me a lot about what could be wrong with his shop. I grabbed my wineskin and rolled out of the cart, standing in the road, looking up and down the street. No unusual sounds, no menacing mist or presence. Nothing malicious at all really. I took a blessed swig of wine and walked up to the entrance of the shop. My client held it open for me but I didn’t go inside yet. Instead I examined the door frame carefully, checking for glyphs or scratches. Nothing. “Well?” asked the owner again. “What’s your name?” I asked him as I stepped into the shop. Neat little place. Looked like he sold some expensive charms, he had a variety of jewellery on display, with little picture cards in front to explain what each one did. Smart, the illiteracy rate out here was astronomical. “I’m Leod Marshton.” he said, hauntingly. “Purveyor of fine charms and wardens essential for the prepared travellers of the Wilds-” “Yeah, I didn’t ask for your sales pitch.” I said casually as I strolled along the perimeter of the shop. I kept one hand on the handle of my crossbow in the fold of my coat as I walked. Caution when exploring new surroundings has saved my skin more than once. “I take it some inventory has gone missing?” “Yes, some very expensive pieces. I know they weren’t stolen by normal means which is why-” “You hired me, got it. How do you know they weren’t nicked?” I asked him, examining an expensive looking amulet which could apparently detect magic. Probably trash, even if it actually did was the card advertised. I couldn’t sense anything arcane in the shop, which meant his inventory was probably minimally enchanted or not at all. “You got some fine metals here, how’d you know it wasn’t someone in the village?” “I’ll tell you.” said Leod, narrowing his eyes. “Because I’d set down a charm, turn around to grab another and when I turned back, it was gone. Right in front of me. Couldn’t have taken my eyes off of it for more than a second” “Mmhm, happened more than once?” “About twice a week, yes.” “Mhmm”. I finished my sweep of the store and came over to Leod. I squinted at him hard, carefully looking him over top to bottom. Then I stared into his eyes. “What… what are you doing?” he asked me, looking slightly alarmed. “Trying to see if you’re jinxed.” I said, tongue between my teeth. “Jinxed?” Leod asked, patting himself down. “What do you mean jinxed?” “Jinxed. You know. Hexed. Cursed. Bamboozled. I’m trying to see if someone has polluted the sanctity of your mind or body. Got any new scars? Places that itch? Been feeling foggy lately? Sleepless? Too much sleep? Has your appetite gone off? Tripled? How about your sex life, got a constant woody?” “What, I- no!” Leod sputtered. “None of that! I’m fine! Everything is… fine! Why would I be cursed?” I shrugged. “Happens. Someone hexes you when you’re unaware, takes control of your body for a short period of time. You could be blanking out, handing your goods over to someone out the window and regaining your senses once they're gone. It’s not easy but someone who thought your charms were the real deal would be interested in it.” Leod blustered with anger. “I’ll have you know that these charms are endorsed by the Church of the Kloth-” “Of course,” I interrupted. “We can probably rule out robbery. Someone who stole a charm would find out they’re shit once they tried to fence it or use it. Wouldn’t make sense to keep stealing junk.” I finished staring at Leod and looked around the shop again. It was very clean. I checked the floors. Barely any wear. “How long have you been out here?” I asked. “Only a month.” he replied. “I got approved for a Wilds Frontier loan and moved out here. There’s an untapped market for traveller charms on this end of the Wilds. I’ve made several lucrative sales already.” the smug look on his face made me roll my eyes. “Yeah except you probably got a heavy rate on the loan right? Which is why you need to find your thief, eh? Too much stock goes missing and suddenly you’re missing payments.” Leod nodded stiffly. “Well, yes, my profit margin is thin for the first year or so.” I nodded absently. “Piss anyone off in town yet?” Leod swelled with anger again. It made him look like a toad. “I have an excellent relationship with the community! We have to rely on each other this far out of the city!” “So no one has used your charms yet, got it.” I concluded. I wandered back and forth along the shop, letting my feet do the thinking. Humans, like elves, can sense magic, but most of us don’t know how. Because there are so many different kinds of magic, it would be difficult to tell if there’s any at all, let alone what kind. From Leod’s description, it seemed to me that there was something supernatural about. But it didn’t seem manufactured or constructed like a spell. So I wandered, letting my thoughts go blank, keeping myself distracted by pestering Leod with questions. Trying to detect anything at all. I paused in my pacing. This was the third time I had walked past this particular desk, without meaning to. I crouched down and looked under the tables. “Got a basement?” “No.” Leod answered, looking impatient. “You sure? I had a client once who told me he didn’t have a basement. Turned out there was a lich’s laboratory under his floorboards. Poor guy never knew about it. Some real twisted shit down there.” “There isn’t a basement.” Leod said through gritted teeth. “I had the land surveyed by a geomancer.” I stood up again. “Did he give you a report?” “Yes.” “Lemme see it.” Leod walked past me and rummaged through his desk for a moment before pulling out a certificate. “Ah yes, see? Here it is. Signed by a respectable guild from the city, paid in full. A clean sweep of the premise before the land was cleared and my shop went up.” I took the paper from him carefully. He probably paid a hefty sum to have that document done up and I didn’t have the coin to get him a replacement. I scanned the document. He was right, it was a good, thorough scan from a respectable guild. There were two geomancers, actually, and they cross checked each other’s work. I grunted in approval. “Yeah, good, looks like you don’t have any portals nearby or subterranean works or dwellings. That’s a relief, that lab I mentioned was disgusting. Ever seen an eviscerated pepelexa? Fucking gross.” I flipped over the certificate and continued reading. No curses, no wards, nothing about gravesites, no large animals removed from the area, it looked like everything was on the up and up. I was about to hand the paper back when a footnote caught my eye. It was in the additional details left by one of the geomancers. I read it once, then again as I processed it. “Aw shitfire.” I said, annoyed. “What? What is it?” demanded Leod. “Did you read this *all the way through*?” I asked him, handing the paper back. “Of course I did!” Leod huffed. “Then you definitely read the part at the bottom of the additional notes? The part about how one of the magicians experienced seeing several ‘bright and vision-obscuring lights’ when they were clearing out the woods for the lot?” “Well, yes,” sputtered Leod. “But they assured me it was normal! That it happened sometimes when clearing forests! They said it was pixies or something, trying to drive off intruders.” I rubbed my eyes and took a long overdue swig from my flask. “Your store is made from the same wood that was cleared from this land, wasn’t it.” Leod stopped dead. “How could you possibly know that?” he demanded. I smiled. “Because,” I lectured “when you remove the wood cut from an area with magical creatures, it loses its magical properties. That’s why people can get ‘fairy wood’ for cheap and not have any problems. By the way, ‘fairy wood’ is a bullshit term. Fairies and pixies are nothing alike. Anyway the pixies don’t see the wood as home any more and they move on to new territory. You kept the same wood in the same forest so you get to keep the same pixies.” “So I have pixies?” asked Leod, confused. “You have something. ‘Pixie’ is kind of a catchall term for small magical beings with wings. Kind of like how ‘bug’ refers to tiny crawly things.” “Well, what do I have?!” asked Leod, raising his voice. “Shhh.” I put a finger to my lips. “We don’t want to spook it. Dim the lights, let's sit over there by the window. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Anything taken lately?” Leod shook his head and looked worriedly around his store, probably expecting something large and nasty to spring out of the shadows. It always astounds me how little the general populace knows about the land they live on. I pulled a bench out, as far away as we could get from the desk I had walked by repeatedly. After Leod put out all but one of the candles we sat down on the bench together. We waited silently. Time went by very slowly, Leod’s pocket watch ticking loudly. He kept checking it, turning it to the light, fidgeting in place. I sat still and watched the rafters above the desk. If Leod was lucky, I might be able to solve his mystery tonight. If I was right about my hunch though, Leod was going to be mighty unhappy with the outcome. After about thirty minutes of waiting, I saw what I had been waiting for. “There.” I said quietly, not bothering to whisper. Leod started, having been falling asleep the last five minutes. “What? Where? What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Keep your voice down. She probably isn’t scared of us but we don’t want to startle her.” I said in a low voice, not blinking. “The rafters.” Leod looked up to the rafters, looking frightened. “Is it dangerous?” he asked in a whisper. “Only to your profits.” I said in the same low voice. I got up and walked quietly and calmly to the desk. From the rafters there was a small, bright mist floating down, almost like a tiny golden cloud. You couldn’t see through it, but it shimmered with movement as it fell slowly towards the desk. I approached the desk slowly and sank down to my knees, getting eye level with the glowing light. Leod followed behind me, shaking with small tremors, trying to look over my shoulder. “Hello, little miss.” I said to the cloud. There was a light puff of air, and a tiny girl’s head poked out of the little cloud. She was as golden as the cloud that held her, with long curly hair and a cherub-like face. Slender glossimer wings were poking out of her back but she kept mostly hidden in her cloud cover. She looked up at me curiously as she shimmered in the darkness of the shop, a slight ringing sound emanating from her glow. “What… what is *that*?” breathed Leod. “*She*,” I correctly gently, not looking away from her “is a flickerwill.” “A what?” snapped Leod. Abruptly the golden light went out, like it had never been there at all. The cabin was bathed in black ink after our eyes had gotten used to the golden light. “Dammit man, keep your voice mellow, don’t fuck this up.” I said in the same amiable tone. “Got a crown on you?” “What?” “A crown, give me a gold crown.” Leod fished his large hand in his pocket and handed me a sweaty gold coin. “Here little miss.” I said, keeping my voice soothing. “Something for you, given freely, not taken. A present.” I placed the coin on the desk and waited. Nothing happened. “What’s happening?” asked Leod in a whisper. “I’m trying to show her we’re not dangerous. Ask her to come out.” “What?” Leod asked in a panicked whisper. “Why me?” “Because this is your shop she’s in, and this is her home you’re in. You should get acquainted.” Leod looked bewildered. I sighed. “Just speak to her calmly, tell her she can have the coin.” Leod opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed, then opened it again. “Little… umm, flickmist” he started. “Flickerwill.” I corrected “Little flickerwill,” Leod began again. “You may, umm… have this gold coin. As a gift.” he finished lamely. I turned to roll my eyes at him again. As I turned, the golden light reappeared behind me. Leod gasped and grabbed at his neck, scrambling for the charm hanging from it. I turned back. The flickerwill was floating a couple of inches off the desk. She had grabbed the coin which was nearly as big as her head and was holding it with both hands; looking quite pleased with herself. She gave us a shy smile and like a candle blowing out, disappeared. “Good.” I said loudly. Leod started, having gotten used to my soft voice. “That’s solved then.” I got up and lit the lanterns in the room, filling it with light once more. “That’s it? That thing is gone then?” asked Leod disbelievingly. “Oh hell no.” I chuckled. “You’re not gonna get rid of her.” “What do you mean I’m not getting rid of her!? I hired you to get rid of her!” “Nope. You hired me to solve this problem and we did just now. Once a week, you’re gonna leave a crown out for her, and say out loud that it is a gift for her. That should stop her from nicking your goods.” Leod looked completely lost so I threw him a bone. “Flickerwills are harmless sprites that covet shiny objects. I’m guessing that this one lived in the forest that you had chopped down and since the wood never left, neither did she. She’s been stealing your stuff when you weren’t looking.” Leod pondered this for a minute then looked cross. “Am I getting my stolen goods back?” “Unlikely. She has no reason to give them back. You won’t find them laying around the shop either. Flickerwills and blink in and out of existence. Whatever she took is gone into the aether.” “When will she leave?” asked Leod, looking mutinous. “Leave?” I laughed in his face. “You don’t get it, do you? You set up shop in her home. You cut down her house and rearranged it how you like. She’s not gonna leave and there is absolutely nothing you can do to her. Make a quick movement in her presence and she’ll vanish instantly. She’ll keep stealing your valuables too, unless you pay her.” “How does she even know she’s getting paid?!” bawled Leod, who was red in the face. I actually wondered about his heart for a moment. “She doesn’t, you’re just giving her something else shiny in lieu of your valuables. Doesn’t matter what she gets, really. I just figured you’d always have a crown when you need it and it’s pretty cheap for rent.” “Rent? Rent!?” yelled Leod. He was rapidly progressing to purple and I idly wondered if the flickerwill would be pest free soon. “I own this establishment, and the land it's built on! I own the trees used to make this store! I’m not sharing my home and business with a filthy little pincher and paying for it!” I nodded the whole time, pretending to keep interest in the conversation. “Indeed. Well I wish you the best of luck in evicting the otherworldly fae creature from your place of business. You’ll find that you will be laughed out of every exterminator's door and sent packing from the churches. A flickerwill isn’t evil, it’s part of the land. You can either suck it up and pay the crown or move out but the pixie is here to stay now that you built the house out of her trees. I can safely say that if you keep leaving her gifts, she will not steal from you. Just like people, they prefer to be given gifts than scrounge for their own wants.” I patted Leod on the shoulder who was slowly deflating and looking forlorn. “Speaking of payment, I’d charge you twenty crowns for my expertise and negotiations of hostilities with the flickerwill. You agreed to double, so that will be forty crowns. I’ll knock five off if you give me a lift back to town in the morning.” I pulled a blanket off a shelf and shoved it up against a corner. “You can’t be seriously trying to stay here after that stunt you pulled.” Leod looked completely defeated. I laced my hands behind my head and settled back into the corner. “I’d be a lunatic to try and get back to the city this late. Just be glad I solved your problem ‘immediately’.” I nodded to him and shut my eyes. I heard Leod grumbling as he slammed a door shut and disappeared deeper into his home. “Goodnight, little miss.” I said to the empty room. From behind my closed eyes I could see a shining glow right in front of my face. There was a brief puff of air on the tip of my nose and then the light went out. Something heavy dropped into my hand. I opened my eyes and held it up to the dim moonlight. It was one of the charms the flickerwill had taken, a large silver brooch with a emerald inlaid in the centre. Probably worth a solid week's worth of wages but I decided to keep it as a souvenir. It’s not often that I finish a case where no one and nothing has been killed. I’d like to remember this one.


He was wandering in the forest the day he died. He came from a quaint little medieval town, the type that hadn’t ever seen any danger or evil. Well, apart from the legends. According to local folklore, there was something dreadful lurking in the forest nearby. At least, that’s what the elderly woman had said to him when he was just a child. Tybalt had grown up obsessed with the rumors, yearning to satisfy his curiosity. So, as a young adult he ignored all the warnings and set off on his “grand adventure”, enthralled with what he might find in the dark forest. Eventually, he discovered a hidden path through the forest, appearing man-made. He followed it deeper and deeper into the forest, as it got colder and colder and the trees got taller and taller, barely allowing any light in. It was at this point Tybalt started to get scared. What was he going to find here, really? Had he just made a massive mistake? In retrospect, yes. But, despite his fear, he kept going. He had to find out what was in this forest. He *needed* to. It was only when the whispering started that the idea of turning back came into his head. But there was no turning back now, he thought. He was here. A deep and dark cave, mysterious symbols carved into the walls? Whatever evil thing lives in this forest, it lives here. He entered the cave, his heart pounding as he took each step. As he walked further into the cave, the enigmatic carvings grew more frequent, until the whole cave, from the walls to the roof, was covered in them. Finally, he reached the end of the cave where a wooden door sat, begging to be opened. He put his hand on the doorknob, slowly turning it and opening the door. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. He wasn’t even sure what *this* was. The chanting wasn’t in any language he had heard before and all the hoods and cloaks, the massive statue of some tentacled abomination, plus the dead goat on the altar really wasn’t helping. Cautiously, he backed away from the doorway and shut the door silently, his flight instinct kicking in. He had to get out of here, now. As it happens, he was correct in that regard. Getting out of here was the best option. Unfortunately, he was so focused on not making any noise closing the door that he hadn’t noticed the chanting had abruptly stopped. As soon as it was shut, he took off running and it was only then that he noticed the horrific clawing sounds coming from behind him. He didn’t know what these hooded figures were, but they didn’t seem human. They were all collectively babbling something, but the voices sounded twisted, distorted and…well, inhuman. Alas, Tybalt didn’t have long to contemplate what these things were, as they soon caught up with him. It didn’t take long for the village to work out what had happened to him. No one comes back from the forest. They simply classed him as “missing” and moved on. The same thing happened to many people over the course of history. Villagers and travelers would hear the rumors and, curious, venture alone into the forest, only to “go missing” because they interfered in our rituals. That’s why we started those rumors. It says those people taste the best.