A writer is gifted with a mysterious card that will inspire them if they toss the card in a fire while sharing a scary story.
“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” I stepped back from the campfire, falling deeper into the shadows and waving my hands for dramatic flair. Plus, I was already hot, no thanks to the Oklahoma heat wave.
I placed a hand on my heart to check if the strange card I was gifted was still in my overalls. Good. I still have it. Let’s do this.
High school students from all over the state will arrive tomorrow at the Quartz Mountain resort for the intensive two-week residential school for professional training in the visual, literary, and performing arts. As an alumnus of the creative writing class, this place meant so much to me. I made new friends during a time in my life when that was a struggle. Being around other writers my age motivated me like nothing else, especially since I was the only one in my English classes who enjoyed writing stories. I’ve heard many others make this statement, but there was something magical about being surrounded by mountains, far from civilization, and high-speed Internet.
Because of my experience, I returned as an adult to work as a counselor as this was something I could do to give back. I would love to eventually become an instructor, lifting others how I was inspired. But first, I would have to be a successful writer, which required me to stop hitting blank pages.
With tonight being the last student-free night, I had no trouble gathering a few people under the pretense of sharing scary stories in the courtyard. I first sought after my friend, Hannah. We attended the summer program together in high school as cabin roommates while she took the film and video course. This year, she was part of the public relations team as a documentary videographer. She got her boss, Wren, to join us. Wren was down for a good scary story. Then a couple of guys, Danny and Nathan, who happened to be hanging out in the lodge lobby when I met up with Hannah and Wren, accepted my invitation to join. I squealed with glee, with an audience eager to hear my story.
The line about the abandoned cabin was fictional as this happened where my kids would be staying. I took some creative liberties with the beginning, fabricating details about finding dead bugs, unfamiliar howling in the distance, and the moonless night, but the rest of the story I was about to tell them wouldn’t veer from the truth of what happened a few hours ago.
I closed my eyes, centering myself as I continued the story. “My gut told me something was amiss, and I knew I had to investigate.”
“Well, you’re still here, so we know it wasn’t a serial killer,” Danny said.
Wren, the public relations manager, threw a marshmallow at her fellow staff member. “Let Burnie finish their story.”
“Yeah, maybe Burnie died and was replaced by a doppelgänger,” Hannah said, teasing me, too.
“Or maybe we are the ones that died,” Nathan added with some spooky hollering at the end.
I cleared my throat. “So, I walk up to the cabin. As I pulled open the door, I was hit with this aroma, like I was about to enter–” I paused to build suspense, “a coffee shop.”
The staff exchanged confused looks and giggles.
I carried on with my story. “With my phone flashlight on, I scanned the room. There was no one there. As I treaded deeper inside, the cabin door slammed shut.” I smashed my hands together to represent the noise. “The candle blew out, and my phone – with a full battery, mind you – died. My heart began to race as I tried to open the door. Then suddenly, I saw this light illuminating behind me. I turned around, and there was this spotlight on a woman beside a golden freestanding door. She wore this purple maxi dress fashioned for a greek goddess, and her luxurious silver hair danced in the windless cabin. I asked this woman who she was, but she only responded with the question, ‘Do you seek inspiration?’ I told her yes. I’ve been at an impasse on a new horror story.”
I whipped out the card like a salesperson who was an expert at handing out business cards. “The mysterious muse gave me this card. She told me that if I shared this tale, and then I tossed this card into a fire, we would experience a real horror story.”
I held up the card, showing the group. The dark purple card depicted a golden skull that shimmered in the fire’s light. The audience humored me with a few “oohs” and “ahhs.” Wren clasped her hands on her face in awe.
“Shall I toss it in the fire?” I asked.
“Do it!” Danny taunted. “Do it! Toss that bad boy in the fire.”
“That card looks too pretty to burn,” Hannah said. “But I don’t want your story to end, so go for it.”
Nathan and Wren gave approving nods. With everyone’s consent, I tossed the card in the fire. The stranger never revealed what would happen other than I would be inspired to write. After I took the card from her, she opened her golden door, which led to a coffee shop. The door disappeared like she was never there, but the card was my proof. When the card hit the fire, the fire turned bright purple like a firework, soliciting wows from the entire group.
The flames collapsed in on themselves and burst to life a five-foot giant scorpion, like the striped bark kind found around the area. The scorpion stung Danny, knocking him out of his chair. Hannah jumped out of her seat, utilizing the chair as a shield. Thankfully, there was no one else around in the courtyard. Nathan and Wren ran together to the hotel guestrooms while I stood frozen in shock.
“What the fuck is going on, Burnie?” Hannah said as she used the chair like a lion tamer in a circus act.
“I-I don’t know,” I cried. “I didn’t expect this to happen!”
The scorpion’s stinger pierced through the chair, missing Hannah and getting the chair stuck on the tail in the process.
Hannah retreated to my side. “Got any ideas on how to kill it?”
A spotlight beamed down on the impossible monster I brought to life. We looked at a firetruck flying like a drone or alien spaceship. The firetruck hovered in the starry sky, silent as a ghost. How long has that ship been there? Is it part of the card or something else? The scorpion smashed the chair against the ground, freeing the creature as two more emerged from the fire pit.
I couldn’t make out the details, but a person with dark skin–definitely human–aimed a white sci-fi-looking rifle at the scorpions. The sniper opened fire, emitting a low-frequency screech. One by one, the monsters collapsed as we took refuge under the artistic metal gazebos designed to mirror the Twin Peaks mountains seen from the courtyard.
A team of three people jumped off the firetruck, landing on the ground like superheroes without getting hurt. They wore bright white and orange uniforms, making them easy to spot. Why are they wearing such bold outfits?
“Get this human healed,” ordered the short black woman. “Then find everyone here and wipe their memories of tonight.”
Their commander answered my question. No need for secrecy when you could erase the unnatural like the event never happened. I cursed under my breath, but Hannah heard.
“You should run and hide,” she told me. “I’ll distract them.”
“Wait,” I whispered, but she gave me no choice as she ran toward them, flaying her arms in the sky. “Hannah…”
With the strangers distracted, I bolted for the nearby cave. I figured they wouldn’t expect anyone to be out on any of the trails, hiding in the cave.
I took the route behind the hotel guestrooms, hoping the building would shield me from the action in the courtyard and the lake to my right would keep me anonymous. As I passed the classroom pavilions, I prayed to the universe that the beams of flashlights scanning the area would miss me. I hoped the trees on the cave trail would cover me as more flying firetrucks flew overhead, landing in the parking lot on the other side. I begged my ankles not to give and my heart not to jump out of my throat.
I arrived in the cave alone and unharmed. Some force of the universe must’ve heard my wishes. Thank you. Then my brain warned me of possible snakes and normal-sized scorpions in the cave. With my phone still dead and no source of light on me, I decided to take my chance. I did my best to steady my breath to listen to any slithering or scurrying of desert creatures. I heard nothing. Perhaps my presence scared them. I did make a bunch of noise getting up the hill. The inside of the cave was about the size of my apartment, leaving little room to hide. Feeling a bit safe, I took a seat.
I woke up as the sunlight stretched into the cave, poking my face with sizzling kisses. I have no idea how, but my body collapsed into a deep slumber. I thought I would stay awake all night, but waiting around while nothing happened and being in darkness must’ve put my body to rest. Strange how the body works.
I didn’t know the time, so I returned to the courtyard. I brushed myself off to not appear as I slept in the woods–not that anyone would judge. To my relief–I think that’s the correct word–I saw some staff and faculty members walking out of their rooms and across the courtyard to the main lodge for breakfast as if today were a regular morning. I did notice one less chair around the fire pit where I tossed the card.
Hannah came jogging up to me. “Where were you last night?” I could tell by her scrunched face she was a bit annoyed.
“What do you mean?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“You told me you wanted to share a ghost story by the fire, but you never came.”
“Hold on. Do you not remember the giant scorpions?” Hannah shook her no. There was nothing on her facial expression to indicate she was messing with me. “Do you remember the flying firetrucks?”
Hannah shook her head. “Was this part of your story?”
“No, this is what happened last night. Wait! Where is Danny? Is he okay?”
“Oh, he’s fine.” Hannah pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of a normal-sized scorpion. “He had a bad reaction to this scorpion in his room. He should be back tomorrow.”
I sighed like a person freed from a boulder. The strangers cleaned up well, but I had so many questions. Who was the woman with the golden door? What was this organization that saved the day? Was someone watching out for me? The truth of what happened would be left for my creative imagination to determine, just as the mysterious muse planned.
A new short story to kick off summer! This was written for a horror story contest to use this line as the first sentence: “The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” Since I was at Quartz Mountain for the Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute, I got some friends there to pose and slightly base the characters on them. The mysterious muse was the end-timer, Brigit, who was featured in The Winged Letter and A Question for the Writers.
When a herd of dragons visits the small town of Valley, the mayor decides it’s his civic duty to greet them only to get caught in a mystery.
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Mayor Axepen was dead set on giving the unfamiliar herd of dragons a friendly welcome as part of his civic duty. In his 42 years of living on the Black Planet, Brutüs occasionally saw dragons fly throughout the skies, wait in line at the drive-through of a coffee shop, or deliver kegs of beer from a local brewery. Seeing over two dozen together was a rare sight.
Upon hearing of the arrival of dragons, Brutüs skimmed through Hugging Dragons: A Cultural Etiquette Guide to Befriending Flying Serpentines by Peigi MacLeòir. After all, Brutüs won the democratic mayoral race based on his platform of owning and reading the most books in the Valley. During his campaign, he also decorated his horns to appear less threatening, invited constituents to tea parties to listen to their concerns, and held ice cream soirées at the library while reading children’s stories. He successfully proved to the citizens of the Valley that he wasn’t some dumb, mean, brawny minotaur but a well-educated, compassionate, brawny minotaur.
Brutüs minded his steps up the hill of rainbow-colored flowers to not ruin the plants. He made a mental note to discuss adding gravel trails to the hill at the next town planning meeting as he thought all should enjoy the calming scents, colorful sights, and overall relaxing walk.
As he reached the top, he recalled MacLeòir’s advice on figuring out the leader. The book warned not to judge based on the size as sometimes the leader is the smallest one, or sometimes the leader was the largest, or the one with the most heads, or somewhere in the middle. The book said not to ask because if you happen to ask who the leader was and that was their leader, a fight would break out. Instead, the best course of action was to study the dragons to see who they watched the most. Everyone tended to keep an eye on the leader. However, with current technology, MacLeòir advised scanning the herd with a networker to find the answer.
Brutüs’ owned a networker designed to look like an ax, which he wore as a necklace. He lifted his networker and asked, “Networker would you tell me who is the leader here?”
“Scanning!” the networker replied in a cheerful tune as a holographic spinning rainbow ball projected out. “No information found. This appears to be an unregistered group. Sending out a request for more information.”
“Uhm,” Brutüs said, letting the network fall to his muscular chest. The holographic display faded off. “I’m glad I read that book first.”
Following the author’s advice, Brutüs watched the dragons, studying who they watched the most. Everyone seemed focused on a white, single-headed dragon, who was small by dragon standards but was still twice as big as himself, a 7-foot tall minotaur. He straightened his blue suit and decided to take a shot at welcoming the leader.
“Greetings,” Brutüs said with a big wave. “I am Mayor Axepen, and I welcome you to the Valley.”
The white dragon lowered her head in a bow, her spikes glistening in the morning sun. “Hello, Mayor Axepen. My name is Swift. We mean you no burden or trouble as we merely pass through to visit The Black Dragon.”
Brutüs nodded. The Black Dragon was the oldest and most influential living being on the planet. Although officially, The Black Dragon wasn’t the planet’s ruler – unofficially was a different matter. As a town leader, Brutüs was in charge of the yearly tribute in which the most talented artists competed to send their works of art to The Black Dragon. Fame often followed the winners as only the best would win. With The Black Dragon being practically immortal, the dragon would often auction or donate the works in the future for a significant profit. Brutüs viewed the tribute as a win-win and held neither a positive nor negative opinion of The Black Dragon. Although writing about The Black Dragon in his journals was a tiny bit of an inconvenience as The Black Dragon had no pronouns or titles. However, such an “inconvenience” was a nonissue matter for respecting one’s personal preferences.
“Very well,” Brutüs said, straightening his red and black striped tie. “If you are interested in obtaining coffee before your long journey, the drive-through at Gratitude Coffee can accommodate you.”
Fun fact about dragons: dragons are caffeine sensitive, and what would be a large coffee for a human would often be the perfect size for a dragon.
“Thank you, Mayor,” Swift said. “We may consider that.”
As Brutüs was about to leave, he caught sight of a tattoo of a human woman in a green dress with a green door on Swift’s arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, Swift, what is the story behind that tattoo?”
“Why do you think there’s a story?”
“I’ve never seen a tattoo of a human on a dragon before, that’s all.”
Swift brought up her arm to see the tattoo in question. “This…This was someone special to me. She saved my life. It’s a long story.”
“I do enjoy a long story if you enjoy sharing one.” Brutüs sat on a clean patch of ground. “I do have the time.”
Swift laid in a rested state. “Well, a long time ago, when I was about your size, I was an actress, and she was a director. She had a fiery spirit like the mightiest dragons – for a human. I later learned she was a time-traveler, but that’s getting ahead of myself.”
“A time-traveler?” Brutüs repeated, trying not to scoff in disbelief. In the entirety of Brutüs’ library, he only owned one book about time-travelers. In How to Survive an Encounter with a Time-Traveller by Filip Webb, the 150-page book only consisted of the word “Avoid” written on each page in different languages, font styles, and graphical representations.
“I sense your skepticism,” Swift said, “as I was a skeptic myself. To this day, she was the only time-traveler I met.”
“My apologizes,” Brutüs said. “I mean no disrespect. Please, do continue.”
Swift nodded. “This happened around when people believed rumors that a dragon’s spikes were potent aphrodisiacs. As I was leaving a solo act one night, I got mobbed by a gang. They had me chained and in a cage before I knew what was happening. They were professionals.”
A red tear ripped the clouds above Brutüs and the dragons. A ginormous spaceship–larger than the field of dragons–flew out from the portal. The sudden, looming shadow and the engine’s raging hum gave away the ship’s presence. Swift stood up, fully alert, while Brutüs sat in confusion.
“Gods,” Swift cursed. “Did you scan us by any chance?”
“I was trying to figure out who the group leader was,” Brutüs said.
Swift groaned and faced her fellow dragons. “Everyone, Evacuation Formation Beta. Rally together at point 13. Go!”
The dragons flew away, splitting into eight groups and going in separate directions. Without saying another word to the mayor, Swift left, joining up with one of the groups. Brutüs watched them leave as the ship opened fire on the dragons. He felt like someone had given him a prologue to a book while keeping the rest of the story for themselves.
I wrote this story for a short story contest at Vocal. The challenge was to write the first chapter of a fantasy novel with the following first sentence as a prompt: “There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”
Thanks to Janine De Guzman for bringing the scene of Brutus and Swift meeting at the Valley.
I know this story has a total jerk ending, which I was playing to this being like a prologue. I may continue this saga if the story is well received. 😉
While at Quartz Mountain as part of the PR team for the Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute, Kyle came to me with this idea for a short film starring the camp’s mascot. We recorded this short comedy film for the Hedgey social media account and I went fancier than Kyle expected. This short has been a huge hit with everyone and so I wanted to share what we made here.
After her trip to the Underworld, Sally Wilkerson has a hard time convincing her friend of her experience until an opportunity presents itself to her as Hades and Persephone invite her to game night.
Best to read #TwinCities as this story picks up after its events.
Sally gazed at her unlit, fictional consultations on her black bedroom ceiling. She built the night sky herself using a combination of LED fairy lights and glow-in-the-dark plastic star stickers, while her walls consisted of trees and lakes of the Michigan landscape painted by her father. Her dad couldn’t stand plain white walls (with exceptions for inside cabinets and closets). Still, he respectfully left Sally’s bedroom white until her seventh birthday, when she was allowed to pick the design. Initially, the landscape was during the day, but when Sally turned 13, she wanted to make her night sky, so her father revamped his artwork to match.
Sally’s eyes drifted from the lion to the woman holding scales before she decided to roll to her side, facing her glossy black nightstand. “Why doesn’t he believe me?”
When Sally returned from her visit to the Underworld yesterday, Mark had already closed up the ice cream shop. So she rushed home and told her parents about her experience. They believed her before showing them the selfie with Hades. However, when she saw Mark at work today, he thought she was pranking him. She spent the first few hours of her shift trying to convince him to no avail. Then he spent the last few hours teasing her.
“How did your tea party with the Tooth Fairy go?” Mark had mocked. “Did you ask Santa if you made the nice list?”
Sally forced herself to sit up on her bed. She tapped on her phone, waking up the device to reveal the time was only 7:40 pm. She looked over her collection of a dozen board and card games scattered about on her bookshelf. The unincorporated town of Hell didn’t offer much for teens to do, so her typical Friday night involved getting together with friends to play games. However, after her spat with Mark, not even her competitive nature was in the mood. With her spirits low, she decided to seek her mother’s counsel.
“Mom should be done for the day,” she said as she stood up.
Sally went downstairs to the tarot room. They lived in the upper half of the house while her parents’ business, Charon’s Landing, took the bottom. She received an invite before Sally could peek inside to see if her mom was with a customer. “Come in, honey.”
Sally viewed her mom’s tarot reading room as the coziest room she’d ever visited. There was no square inch of a hard wall to see as fabrics shaped the room into a hexagon. Chill, LoFi beats placed those who entered at ease. If only I were allowed to take naps here, Sally thought. Though, she would curl up on the couch in the room if she had painful cramps or wasn’t feeling well. She took a seat on the plush purple pillow on the floor.
Sally’s mother, Diana, was still in her purple work robe as she shuffled her deck of tarot cards. “What’s on your mind?”
Despite her mother always being able to sense when something was off with her daughter, Diana’s comforting tone still caught her off guard. She decided to ask. “Mom, you believe me about meeting Hades, right?”
Diana pushed aside her long, curly red hair behind. “Of course, honey. I’ve always taught you there was more to this world than what we see.”
“But Mark doesn’t.” Sally slumped her shoulders, slouching more into the floor cushion. “He thinks I faked that photo with Hades.”
Diana started placing cards on the oak table. “Well, your father was quite inspired by it and has been painting up a storm. He even sold one of his paintings of Hades.”
“Yeah, he told me when I got home.”
With the cards laid out, Diana set the deck aside. “Perhaps the cards will offer some advice.”
Sally nodded.
In the Great Library of the Underworld, Hades pursued the alphabetically-organized card and board games collection. As his finger touched a game, he envisioned what group that game would be ideal for in tonight’s game night session. He had fashioned himself in his purple suit with red pinstripes for the evening.
“Mictlantecuhtli, Hel, and Osiris declined,” Persephone said as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and rested her head on his shoulders.
Hades brought up her hand to his lips and kissed them. “Thank you for checking. Is anyone able to join us?”
Persephone collapsed deeper into her hug and sighed. “No one can play with us tonight.”
Hades stopped browsing the games. “Perhaps we should expand our horizons.”
Persephone released her hold, spinning around in her green dress. “Oh! Oh! How about that mortal girl from the other day? Sally Wilkerson! She seemed delightful.”
“I don’t know…A mortal?”
“You know that painting of you that I brought you today.”
“What about it?”
“I got that from the girl’s father.”
Hades raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes,” Persephone said with a big grin. “Plus, you know the dogs did like her.”
Hades flicked his wrist. “Very well.”
Persephone burst into a happy squeal and teleported away in a tornado of flowers. Their three-headed dog, Cerberus, walked up to Hades and nuzzled his head against him. The dog had taken the appearance of a black, 12-foot tall three-headed Scottish Terrier.
Hades playfully pushed his face away from the dog’s fur. “When was the last time I had someone give you a bath?”
Sally was back in her bedroom, working on her own card game at her desk, when Persephone erupted into the room with a shower of flowers. Sally watched in awe as the bewitching redheaded Goddess of the Underworld emerged from flowers that faded away, leaving no trace.
“Hi, Sally!” Persephone greeted with an enthusiastic wave. “I’m Persephone. Hades and I would like to invite you to our game night session.”
Sally bolted up from her computer chair. “Heck, yeah!”
Persephone held out her hand for Sally to take. Sally shoved her game in her pink cropped hoodie before taking the goddess’ hand.
Persephone returned to the Underworld with Sally in a similar flowery teleportation style and proclaimed, “She said ‘Heck, yeah!’”
Sally took a moment to take in the green gothic architect of the Great Library. The room was similar to the one on her previous visit, but when she spotted Cerberus, she lost interest in the library.
“That must be Cerberus,” Sally said, jaw-dropping. “Does he like to be petted?”
“He loves the petting,” Persephone answered, gently pushing Sally toward the three-headed dog.
Sally rushed over and began scratching the dog under his center chin. Cerberus let his tail wag and tongue roll out. “So, Mr. Hades. Persephone said you need an extra player for game night. What do you have in mind?”
Hades pulled out a seat from the stone table. Sally gave Cerberus one last pet and took the chair. From inside his pinstripe suit, Hades spread out a set of cards in a fan pattern on the table.
“How about you pick out a game at random?” Hades suggested.
Sally looked over the cards and then at the expansive collection of games on the shelves. “You know, I have a game I’m working on myself. I’d be happy to teach you, and you can give me feedback.”
“A new game!” Persephone exclaimed. “Yes!”
Hades chuckled and snapped his fingers, making his cards disappear in a puff of flames. “How do we play?”
Sally pulled out a stack of index cards from her hoodie’s pocket. “The game is called The Inventors Inventions or Invention Heist. I’m still workshopping the name. Anyway, one person plays as the inventor, hiding these cards around a room while the other players, the thieves, wait outside. The thieves have 60 seconds to find as many cards or inventions as possible before time runs out. The inventor acts as the home base, and the thieves must be touching the inventor before time runs out, or they lose all of the cards they’re holding from that round. Some inventions do special attacks, like freeze a player for 10 seconds, but using them degrades the value. You play for three rounds, and the person who has gathered the most valuable inventions wins. That’s it.”
“Sounds fun!” Persephone said. “I want to be the first inventor.”
Sally handed her the deck. “Then Hades and I will be thieves.”
Persephone skimmed through the deck. “Sally, do you mind if I add a bit of upgrade to these cards?”
“Be my guest.”
Persephone shuffled the deck. As the cards shuffled, the homemade, handwritten cards transformed into a professionally crafted deck. “Done! Now, I will hide them.”
Persephone snapped her fingers, ensnaring Hades and Sally together in a dome of green vines.
“So, Sally. How about we make this interesting?” Hades asked with a smirk.
Sally crossed her arms. “What do you have in mind?”
“If I win,” Hades lowered himself to stare directly at Sally, “you have to…give Cerberus a bath.”
“Okay,” Sally said with a sly smile, “and if I win, you have to reveal yourself to my friend, Mark.”
“Do I get to scare him?”
“Of course.”
Hades offered his hand. “Then it’s a deal.”
Sally stopped herself just before shaking his hand. “Wait. How do I know you won’t cheat?”
Hades scoffed. “I find winning fair and square to be more rewarding. Plus, we have anti-cheat systems in place for when we play with other deities.”
Sally gave Hades a firm handshake. “You got yourself a deal.”
The vines withered away. Persephone sat on a red throne chair with a golden border in the center of a different room in the library filled with statues, paintings, and other works of art.
“And go!” Persephone shouted.
Hades and Sally bolted in opposite directions in search of the cards.
Sally arrived to work for her Saturday evening shift, dressed in her witch costume. The store was empty, except for Mark, who was cleaning the glass windows of the ice cream from fingerprints.
“Hey, we missed you yesterday for game night,” Mark said. “Were you busy playing games with Hades instead?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I was,” Sally said, putting her hands on her waist. “I even invited him here for ice cream.”
Mark laughed, but then the lights went out, and a swirl of flames burst from the ground, filling the ice cream shop with a black mist as Hades morphed his body to fill the entire space before shrinking to a regular 6-foot size. As Hades shrunk, Cerberus emerged as a three-foot-tall dog with three heads from the smoke.
“Hello, Mark,” Hades greeted. “I would like to get three cones with your vanilla ice cream for my dog here.”
As I was putting together the new Serials section, I remembered there was a storyline gap between the two stories with Sally Wilkerson. This story fills that gap between #TwinCities and Dog-Sitting Cerberus. Although, after finishing this story and going over the dog-sitting, there could be another chapter or two.
In the dazzling new Star Light District, rumors swirl about children mysteriously losing their memories while playing unsupervised. Haley and Robin dive into the heart of the district to uncover the truth, armed with curiosity, determination, and a cryptic music player that might hold the key to solving the mystery.
UPDATE for January 17, 2025: This story has been revised with expanded details and overall improvements as part of the release of episode 4.
Haley and Robin stepped off the elevator, brushing past a sasquatch with deep auburn fur, a towering minotaur whose horns gleamed like polished ivory, and a sleek bipedal humanoid machine emitting a faint hum. The trio remained in the elevator as its doors slid shut, leaving Haley and Robin to take in the Star Light District of Aequus’ Underground Zone. Above ground, sunlight would bath the city in natural warmth, but here, the artificial night stretched infinitely across the ceiling. Pinpricks of light mimicked distant stars, arranged in constellations both familiar and fantasy, while faintly glowing paths outlined the edges of the vast, bustling new district.
Robin tightened her grip on Haley’s hand, her tone calm but curious. “So, how do we find some parents willing to talk to us?”
Haley slipped her music player out of the pocket of her pink hoodie. The rectangular device felt solid in her hand, its buttons smooth and satisfyingly tactile. Though it lacked the modern amenities of holograms or voice commands, the unassuming gadget offered something far more unique. The song titles it displayed hinted at the future and whispered hidden truths. After solving a murder at a concert and unraveling the mystery of an abandoned village, Haley felt confident that it would guide her again. This time, she sought answers to a peculiar story: children in the district were reporting unexplained memory loss.
“How do we find affected parents?” Haley asked the music player aloud, her voice low and deliberate. She pressed the shuffle button. “‘Guided by Angels,’” she read.
Robin raised an eyebrow, glancing at her girlfriend’s determined expression. “Well,” she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice, “let’s look for something angelic.”
They scanned the lobby together. Haley’s eyes drifted upward, mesmerized by the canopy of false stars overhead. Neon streaks, like comets crossing the sky, carved slow arcs through the darkness. Her gaze shifted to the walls, where golden, embossed vines shimmered with a lifelike glow under the soft lighting.
“Found one!” Robin said, pointing to a fountain with three statues of angels.
“Great work,” Haley thanked Robin as they walked over to the fountain.
Haley followed Robin’s finger to a trio of angelic statues presiding over a circular fountain. Water cascaded from their outstretched hands, rippling across shallow basins. Streams of flame spiraled in time with the water, their interplay producing a delicate hiss as the two elements brushed against one another. The air around the fountain carried a subtle warmth, contrasting with the cool mist. Together, the fire and water created a sensory symphony, blending heat and moisture, light and shadow, into a mesmerizing dance of opposing forces.
As they approached, Haley noticed a ghaukvoi mother and her child seated on the fountain’s edge. The child’s laughter rang out, pure and unrestrained, as he swirled a hand through the mist. The mother, her cerulean skin shimmering faintly under the artificial starlight, watched him with a mix of affection and mild distraction. Her cobalt hair cascaded in gentle waves, catching the faint glow of the fountain.
“Excuse me,” Haley said, stepping closer but keeping her tone gentle. “Has your child mentioned experiencing memory loss?”
The mother turned, her vivid blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Haley. “Yes,” she said, her voice lilting with a melodic cadence. “I take it you’ve heard about the news reports? Practically every kid here seems to be saying the same thing lately.”
Robin tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t seem too concerned.”
The mother shrugged, her eyes drifting back to her child. “It’s probably just some prank or trend they’ve picked up. Kids always find new ways to amuse themselves.”
Haley met the mother’s gaze, her tone steady and devoid of judgment. “I think there might be something more to what’s happening. My name is Haley,” she said, gesturing to Robin with a small smile. “And this is my partner, Robin.”
Robin gave a friendly wave, her hand brushing against her denim jacket.
The mother’s gaze hardened slightly as she folded her arms. “What’s this going to cost me?”
“Nothing,” Haley assured her, spreading her hands in a gesture of openness. “I’m not a licensed detective—just someone with a passion for solving mysteries.”
The mother checked on toward her child, who was now enthralled by the water and fire’s hypnotic interplay. After a moment, she sighed and lowered herself onto a polished granite bench. The surface glistened under the artificial starlight, its edges cool and sharp.
“My name is Aura,” she said, brushing her cobalt hair behind her ear. Her tone softened as she looked at Haley and Robin. “What would you like to know?”
“Have you noticed any patterns in when your child’s memory seems to go missing?” Haley asked, her voice soft but probing. She added quickly, “Or perhaps with other children you’ve spoken to?”
Aura sighed, her brows furrowing as she thought. “Sometimes, after I let Uris play with his friends, I’d ask him what they did, and he’d just… go blank. Like the whole day had been wiped clean.” Her tone carried a hint of frustration, though it softened when she glanced at her son, who was now splashing a hand in the fountain’s mist.
“Is there a spot where they tend to play?” Haley pressed, taking a seat beside the mother.
Aura shook her head, her hair swaying. “Not really. They run all over the district—there’s no one spot.”
Robin chimed in, her voice edged with curiosity. “What about his networker? Have you checked its tracking data?”
“I did,” Aura said, her voice dropping, “but there was nothing. I figured the networker just lost its signal.”
Robin exchanged a puzzled look with Haley. “That’s strange.”
Aura shrugged, a calming parental acceptance creeping into her tone. “As I said before, I’m not worried. My mother says the kids are just being kids, and if I’m being honest, putting Uris to bed has been way easier lately.”
Haley bowed her head respectfully. “Thank you for sharing this with us. It’s helpful.”
Aura mirrored the bow, her expression softening into something warmer. “May the Goddess guide you in your quest.”
The fountain’s water and flame show concluded with a grand finale—a synchronized eruption of fire and water that sent a warm spray of mist into the air. Uris clapped enthusiastically, his laugh echoing through the open space. Aura chuckled, her face lighting up briefly as she watched her son.
“Wait,” Aura said suddenly, her hand rising as if to pluck the thought from the air. “I just remembered something odd. The first time I noticed Uris acting like this, he came home with a new hat. I asked him where he got it, and he said he didn’t remember.”
Haley nodded, her expression calm but intent. “That’s worth noting. Thank you.”
Uris ran up to his mother, his laughter bright against the quiet murmur of the district. Together, they walked away from the fountain, disappearing into the throng of visitors. Haley and Robin lingered by the water’s edge, the angelic statues watching over them as flames and water danced in the endless artificial night.
Robin turned to Haley. “What’s next?”
Haley pulled out her music player with a practiced motion and asked, “Where should we go next?” She pressed shuffle. “It says, ‘Put Your Records On.’”
Robin paused for a second. “What does it mean by ‘record?’ Like, historical data?”
Haley shrugged, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Honestly, some of these songs aren’t even from our solar system. They don’t always make sense.” She tapped the networker hanging around her neck, its design a playful pair of eighth notes in glowing violet. “Hey, networker. What’s considered a ‘record,’ besides information?”
The device projected a spinning holographic sphere of rainbow light, which morphed into a black vinyl disc. Beside the spinning image, a text box appeared.
“This is the closest match based on your inquiry,” the networker replied. “On Earth, records are round discs used to store music.”
Haley swiped the screen away and grabbed Robin’s hand, pulling her toward a nearby information kiosk—a life-sized holographic projection of the district’s founder. According to Haley’s preliminary research, Iris Ironglass had built the community seemingly overnight, though Iris herself claimed the project had been years in the making. The virtual figure sparkled like stardust, her two-piece white dress shimmering with a soft, almost living glow.
“Wow,” Robin whispered, admiring the intricate folds of the dress as they shifted with Iris’ graceful movements. “That outfit is stunning. It looks so smooth, like real silk.”
Haley brushed her fingers along Robin’s arm, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You’d look amazing in something like that.”
Robin’s cheeks flushed lavender. “Please. Leggings and sweaters are more my speed.”
Haley beamed at her before turning her attention back to the kiosk. “Excuse me, could you tell us where we might find some music?”
“The Star Light District has sixteen music venues,” the virtual Iris replied, her voice calm and melodic.
Haley scratched at the short rainbow-colored strands of her hair. “Hmm. Do any of them play Earth records?”
“There is one venue—Celebration—specializing in records from Earth.”
“That’s the one!” Iris said with a slight bow. “Send the directions to my networker, please.”
“Directions sent,” Iris said with a slight bow. “Thank you for visiting the Start Light District.”
Haley led the way, her attention fixed on her networker’s glowing map as she guided them down a narrow corridor. Robin, however, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the towering statues that lined the passage. Their features were unnervingly detailed—eyes that seemed to follow them, muscles frozen in mid-movement, and faces caught in expressions too lifelike for comfort. Robin’s gaze shifted to a few static posters of Iris, advertising the district’s upcoming school, and though the sight offered a small comfort, it did little to ease her growing unease.
“These statues are… creepy,” Robin muttered, moving closer to Haley.
“At least they’re too tall to be real people,” Haley replied without looking up.
Robin stopped mid-step, her eyes widening. “Real people?”
“Yeah.” Haley shrugged. “I read this protector report once about a gorgon who turned people into stone for some kind of… artistic statement.”
Robin’s face twisted with a mix of horror and fascination. “I’m never looking at statues the same way again.”
The corridor opened into a bustling hub of shops and apartments, bathed in vivid purple light. Unlike the golden hues of the previous area, this section pulsed with youthful energy. Haley’s eyes darted across the space, landing on a wooden sign between a salon called Sister Golden Hair and a hoverboard shop named Landslide. The lettering on the sign read Celebration.
“There it is!” Haley declared, her voice brimming with excitement. “Let’s go.”
Children of various species darted across the playground, their laughter and shrieks inspiring smiles for anyone who passed. Some climbed over replica spaceships, their reflective surfaces glinting under the lights, while others hammered out discordant tunes on neon flower-shaped musical lights. A group played an energetic game of tag, their movements a blur of colorful clothing and fluttering limbs.
As Haley and Robin walked through the playground, Haley couldn’t resist hopping onto a series of light-up tiles embedded in the ground. Each step triggered a burst of color and a musical note, the sequence creating a whimsical melody that brought a wide grin to her face.
Robin walked beside her, shaking her head but unable to suppress a small smile. “Should we maybe keep an eye on these kids?” she asked, her voice edged with concern.
Still skipping across the tiles, Haley glanced at her music player and shrugged. “The answer says Left Alone,” she replied, tapping the screen for emphasis. “So, steady the course!”
Robin sighed but let the matter drop as they reached their destination.
Stepping into Celebration felt like slipping into a distant past from another world. The venue’s wooden walls, furniture, and tables exuded a rustic charm, while soft fire-glow lights bathed the room in a warm, amber hue. This blend of old-world materials and modern lighting created a cozy, inviting atmosphere, despite the anachronistic mix. In one corner, two couples chatted over drinks while their children huddled together, absorbed in games on their networkers.
Haley and Robin slid onto stools at the bar. Haley ran her fingertips over the polished wood of the countertop. “Smooth,” she murmured, admiring the craftsmanship. Her gaze shifted upward, locking onto a device perched on a nearby shelf. “Excuse me,” she called to the bartender. “Is that a record player?”
The tutelagion mixologist, a slender figure with iridescent scales shimmering like liquid opals, finished squeezing a lime into a glass. They handed the drink to a waiting customer before turning to Haley. “Yes, it is,” they said, their voice melodic. “Right now, it’s playing ‘Last Friday Night’ by Katy Perry. Though, if I’m being honest, I have no idea what she’s singing about. What’s a Friday, and why is it special?” They chuckled, their lips curling into a playful smile. “Still, I can’t help but love collecting records from Earth. Even though they’re insanely expensive.”
They leaned forward slightly. “Anyway, what can I get you two? Drinks? Food?”
Haley leaned in as well, lowering her voice. “Actually, I was hoping for information. Aspen, right?” She glanced at their name tag for confirmation. When the mixologist nodded, she continued, “What do you know about the missing memories of children here in the Star Light District?”
Aspen’s shimmering brows lifted slightly. “I used to think it was just a silly rumor,” they admitted. “But lately, a few parents have mentioned it—casually, like it’s no big deal. No one seems panicked, just mildly annoyed. Why do you ask?”
Haley’s expression grew serious. “I think there’s something bigger going on,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just haven’t figured out what yet. Does the phrase ‘Cowboys Don’t Cry’ mean anything to you?”
Before Haley ventured to the Star Light District, she directly asked her music player who was responsible for the missing memories. The device responded with the song title, “Cowboys Don’t Cry.” She nearly threw her device across her home in frustration from the cryptic answer. She asked for motivation and got the answer, “Mad World.”
Aspen chuckled, leaning back against the bar. “Funny you mention that. Last week, Iris Ironglass stopped by for one of our Bloody Orangeritas. While she was here, there was this kid—a human boy. He scraped his knee and started bawling like the world was ending. Iris walked right over, kneeled by him, and kissed his wound. Then she pulled out this strange little hat from her purse, plopped it on his head, and said, ‘Cowboys don’t cry.’ Just like that, the kid calmed down.”
Robin clasped her hands together. “That’s… kind of sweet, actually.”
Aspen nodded. “Iris is a lot more approachable than people think. Oh, and speaking of that kid…” They gestured toward the window. “He’s still wearing that hat.”
Haley and Robin turned to see the boy darting past the window, his tan cowboy hat perched atop his head. The wide brim curved downward, casting a shadow over his face, while the crown was slightly indented, creating a rounded, pinch-like shape. As he moved, the hat bobbed with each step, its stiff fabric making a soft rustling sound. Without hesitation, Haley stood. “Thanks for the tip, Aspen. We need to go.”
Aspen gave a small wave. “Enjoy the day—and try our Bloody Orangerita next time.”
Haley and Robin followed the boy’s trail down the corridor. His small frame darted between towering statues, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. Then, without warning, he vanished.
Haley and Robin slowed to a stop, scanning the area. Robin frowned. “Where did he go?”
Haley pointed to a large grate nestled behind one of the statues. The metal lifted up with a faint creak as she peered into the shaft, her face partially illuminated by the glow automatically activated from her networker to provide light. “Looks big enough for us to crawl through,” she announced, already beginning to climb inside.
Robin’s jaw dropped. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“If kids are crawling through here,” Haley replied, her voice echoing slightly, “then it’s got to be safe.”
Robin groaned, reluctantly dropping to her hands and knees. “I hate that you’re probably right.”
Haley lifted up the grate, and the two crawled thirty feet through the narrow ventilation shaft before reaching the end to what appeared to be a construction zone. She squinted against the sudden brightness of industrial lights overhead, taking in the bustling scene before them. Dozens of children, all wearing an assortment of hats, worked with an unsettling level of focus and precision. Some hauled materials, others hammered nails or measured planks, and a few even directed others, gesturing like seasoned foremen. They moved with the skill and efficiency of trained adults.
Haley and Robin ducked behind a stack of wooden boards. Recalling the clues, she checked her networker.
Haley chuckled. “Ah-ha! No signal. Completely blocked.”
Robin checked hers. “Well, I guess we know why no one’s been able to track the kids.”
Before they could process the strange scene further, the grate behind them slammed open. The sudden metallic clang echoed through the space, making both of them jump. Heart pounding, Haley turned around just as a small figure emerged from the vent.
Uris climbed out, his movements oddly stiff, and stood upright. He wore a black top hat, its edges casting a shadow over his young face. His eyes, however, were distant—unnervingly blank.
“Uris?” Haley called softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
She reached for the hat perched atop his head, but as she pulled it off, her stomach flipped. A pair of shadowy, ethereal hands emerged from inside the hat, clawing at the air before latching onto Uris’ head and yanking themselves—and the hat—back into place.
Haley stumbled back, releasing her grip. “What was that?”
Uris blinked slowly and spoke, his voice layered with an unsettling echo, as though two people were speaking in unison. “You should leave.”
Haley wasn’t having it. She grabbed Uris by the shoulders, spinning him around to face her. “Not until I get some answers. Who are you? And what have you done to Uris?”
“My identity was forgotten long ago,” the voice replied, calm and steady. “But I mean no harm to this child.”
Haley’s jaw clenched, her grip tightening. “Then why are you possessing him?”
“We are repenting,” the voice said. “In life, we made mistakes. In death, we were consigned to the Underworld. But one day, we found ourselves rising—drawn upward, sticking into these hats crafted at Ironglass’ boutique. When we shared our stories, she proposed this arrangement. We wronged others in life, and this is our penance—constructing a world better than the one we left.”
Robin placed a soft hand on Haley’s shoulder. “This feels like a wild ethics debate waiting to happen.”
Haley hesitated, her grip loosening. “Okay, but why children? Why not possess adults?”
A new voice, smooth and confident, cut through the conversation. “Because children’s innate sense of innocence and good keeps the spirits in check.”
Haley and Robin spun around to see Iris Ironglass approaching. She towered over them, her presence as commanding as ever. Though the vampire wasn’t wearing her signature dress, her cropped white hoodie and black leggings exuded effortless elegance, her every movement radiating poise.
“The children are perfectly safe,” Iris said, her tone matter-of-fact. “And we make sure it stays that way.” She gestured toward a nearby group of elders supervising the bustling construction zone. “They are under constant watch.”
One of the elders joined Iris, her presence serene yet resolute. The elder ghaukvoi had vibrant teal skin and long, silver-streaked hair cascading in loose waves. Her robes shimmered like liquid sapphire under the industrial lights, and her voice carried an almost musical cadence. “Hello, there. I am Saeris,” she said with a respectful incline of her head. “You must be the two young ladies investigating the missing memories of the children. Haley and Robin, right?”
Haley blinked, her breath hitching as her heart skipped a beat. “Yeah,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “How… how did you know?”
Iris chuckled, the sound light but laced with authority. “Word travels. Plus, I have an ID scanner installed in the vent and knew we needed to have a chat.”
Haley stepped forward. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You have spirits controlling the bodies of children to build…”
“A school,” Iris interjected smoothly, gesturing toward the construction ahead. “Would you like a tour?”
Haley and Robin nodded. Iris and Saeris led them toward the halfway finished building.
“Okay, so if you’re just building a school, then why keep the parents in the dark?” Haley asked. “Don’t they have a right to know what’s happening to their kids?”
Iris met Haley’s gaze evenly, her expression calm but unyielding. “Because some truths are too difficult to explain without context. If we told the parents everything upfront—spirits, possession, penance—it would sound like a nightmare. Fear would blind them to the benefits of what we’re building here.”
“That does make sense,” Robin said.
“We’re not doing this to take advantage of anyone,” Saeris said. “The children are safe, the spirits find peace, and the community grows stronger. This isn’t secrecy for secrecy’s sake. It’s protection—of everyone involved.”
Haley furrowed her brow, suspicion still gnawing at her. “But isn’t it the parents’ right to decide for their kids?”
“We were the ones who put out that story about the missing memories as a way for concerned parents to connect with us,” Saeris said. “If an issue arrises, we remove the hat from the child.”
Iris paused, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. “Adults don’t mix well with these spirits. It always ends… badly.”
Saeris interrupted with a single loud laugh. “That’s one way of putting it. When I tried a hat, I got sick from eating too much.”
Iris continued. “But with children, the process works. As the spirits help build, they grow lighter. Eventually, they’ll move on. I know it’s a mad world out there, but this… this is progress.”
Haley’s shoulders sagged as she exhaled a long breath, frustration and exhaustion mixing in her expression. Her hand instinctively reached for her music player. She whispered to the device, “Should we trust her?” and pressed the shuffle button. The device displayed the song title: “You’ve Got a Friend.”
Haley glanced at Robin, who gave her a small, reassuring nod. Then she turned back to Iris. “Fine. But if anything changes, I’ll be back.”
Saeris inclined her head once more, her serene smile unwavering. “You are welcome to return at any time, child. May the Goddess guide your steps.”
Iris smiled, her confidence as unshakable as ever. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Haley and Robin crawled back through the hidden tunnel, leaving the construction site behind. Emerging into the quiet corridor, the faint hum of the ventilation system greeted them like an old friend. Haley dusted herself off and turned to inspect the grate.
“Well, that was… something,” she muttered, her voice tinged with lingering uncertainty.
Robin knelt to close the grate, giving her a sidelong glance. “You know, for what it’s worth, I think those kids are going to be okay.”
Haley gave a small, reluctant nod. “I think so, too. Iris felt genuine. But if not… we’ll be back.”
As they walked down the corridor, the implications of their discovery still loomed over them, but the motivations and end goal offered a reassured hope for the community. Robin broke the silence, steering their thoughts toward something tangible.
“So, with that mystery solved and the solstice coming soon, how about we run away somewhere?” Robin suggested with a grin. “I’ve been researching a couple of places.”
Haley reached for Robin’s hand, clasping it gently as they continued toward the elevator. A faint smile crossed Haley’s face. “Yeah, let’s take a trip.”
As the grate clanged shut behind Haley and Robin, the soft hum of machinery filled the construction zone once more. Saeris’ melodic laugh broke through the ambient noise as she watched the pair retreat through the tunnel. Her teal skin shimmered under the industrial lights as she shook her head with quiet amusement.
“What’s so funny?” Iris asked, folding her arms across her chest. Her sharp tone masked the flicker of curiosity in her crimson eyes.
Saeris returned her gaze to the project before them, her voice carrying a serene yet knowing lilt. “I thought for a moment you were going to tell them what happened to you on the day of the earthquake.”
Iris stiffened, her jaw tightening as the weight of those words pressed against her. She forced a scoff, brushing invisible dust from her white hoodie. “Some truths are hard to explain without context,” she quoted herself in her measured and deliberate tone.
Saeris hummed, glancing at the vampire out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, but some truths linger, don’t they? They have a way of gnawing at us, waiting to be spoken.”
Iris’s fingers curled against her arms, the nails digging lightly into the fabric. Her eyes darted toward the now-sealed grate, as if she could still see Haley and Robin’s retreating forms. A stitch of unease flickered in her chest, as if she was reliving the moment again of the young glowing woman on the beach screaming in pain.
She exhaled slowly, her voice softening as she spoke. “However,” she said, almost to herself, “I can’t shake the feeling that something happened to Haley that day, too.”
Saeris tilted her head, her silver-streaked hair cascading over her shoulder like liquid moonlight. “What makes you think so?”
Iris frowned, her crimson eyes narrowing in thought. “It’s not just her determination, though that’s part of it. It’s the way she carries herself—like someone who’s seen what others can’t comprehend.”
Saeris’s lips curved into a faint smile, her expression both kind and enigmatic. “Perhaps you see a reflection of yourself in her.”
Iris’s gaze snapped to Saeris, her expression hardening, but she didn’t refute the statement. Instead, she turned toward the half-finished school, the sound of hammers and saws filling the air. “Maybe,” she admitted after a long pause. “Or maybe it’s something else. Either way, we’ll find out eventually.”
Saeris stepped closer, her presence calm yet unyielding. “The Goddess has a way of intertwining paths for a reason. If Haley and Robin are meant to uncover more, they will.”
Iris nodded absently, her thoughts still distant. “I just hope,” she said, almost to herself, “that when the time comes, they’ll make the right choice.”
For this short story, I knew I wanted to write another mystery with The Sounds. The concept of children missing their memories was inspired by the writing prompt: “Mysteriously, children are starting to lose memories. You’re a detective assigned to this case, and you just found out what is causing them to forget.”
As with past stories featuring The Sounds, I asked people to submit songs for me to incorporate into the story. Some of the songs were used as messages given from the music player while others were worked in other ways. The songs were: Cowboys Don’t Cry by Oliver Tree, Put Your Records On by Ritt Momney, Mad World by Tears for Fears, Left Alone by Fiona Apple, Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, Sister Golden Hair by America, Landslide by Stevie Nicks, You’ve Got a Friend by James Taylor, Celebration by Kool & the Gang, and Guided By Angels by Amyl and The Sniffers.
Thanks to Mikey Marchan for the story artwork!
Thank you for reading! Check out the next story in the series over on The Sounds webpage.
