A serial killer mistakenly targets a true-crime podcaster.
Whitney’s heart fluttered. Male, late 20s/early 30s with an alethic build? Check. Shaggy, blond hair? Check. Thick, black plastic sunglasses resting on a curved, wedge-shaped nose? Check. A prominent crescent scar on his right cheek? Check. She was positive the stranger jogging behind her matched the police sketch of the Noon Slayer.
Whitney kept a steady pace as she traversed the dirt trail at Stewart Memorial Park. The summer weather in Washington state never got uncomfortable for her noon jogs. The tall, western hemlocks and various evergreen trees provided ample shade, with the fresh rain bringing its petrichor fragrance.
She tapped on her headphones, which weren’t playing music. They never did. They were only on her ears for the same reason a worm would be on a hook. The serial killer caught up to her. Whiney smirked. He took the bait.
As the Noon Slayer was about to grab Whitney, she spun around and tased him.
* * *
The Noon Slayer’s eyes fluttered open to a microphone attached to a boom arm with a pop filter. White nylon rope strapped him tight on the metal chair.
“You’re awake,” Whitney greeted with the joyful tone of a morning radio host. “Don’t say anything. I need to hit record real fast.” She took a seat on her RV kitchen bench behind the matching microphone she had set up for herself and pushed the record button on her audio recorder. “Hello, crime-heads. I want to start off this episode by thanking my guest. I’ve gotten in pretty good shape since I started jogging about a month ago to get you on my show.”
“Where am I?” the Noon Slayer grumbled.
Whitney pushed the red button on her pop-out kitchen table, sending him a painful electric shock. It wasn’t enough to kill or do any serious harm, but the pain was enough to say, “I’m the one in charge.”
“Hey, I’m the host here,” she playfully scolded. “This is my podcast, so I’ll be the one asking the questions–until the end when I let my guests ask me a question before I let them go.”
He looked around the cozy fifth-wheel travel trailer that held him captive. Everything was clean and neatly organized. His gaze focused on a massive cork bullion board as long as him, pinned with newspaper clippings of all his killings. He nodded toward the murder board. “You a fan of mine?”
“You can say I’ve been tracking you. Oh, wait. That was technically a question.”
She pushed the button, shocking him again. When he settled, she took down the murder board from the easel (revealing another board covered in clippings about a different serial killer). She laid his board on the bed next to him so he could see her research and then returned to her seat.
“What do you think?” she inquired.
He reviewed the large board. In addition to the newspaper clippings, there were crime scene photos, a copy of the police sketch, and a pair of gold foil business cards with the word, “Congratulations.”
“How did you–” he stopped, catching himself. “I mean, I’m impressed you have my calling card. Two of them.”
“Thank you, but truth be told, one is a replica I made. The public doesn’t know about your calling card. I managed to sneak a photo from one of my sources investigating you. The other is the one I pulled out from your wallet, Trent.”
Trent tried not to laugh at his carelessness. “I knew I shouldn’t have kept my wallet with me.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ve learned that nobody is perfect in all my years of doing this podcast. On the subject of mistakes, how accurate is my board about you? Are all of those yours? Am I missing anyone?”
“You’re missing my first one.”
Whitney sat up and leaned forward. “I am? Do tell.”
“It was different.” His eyes drifted up as he reflected. “I did it with my car. It was an accident–a complete accident. It was a hilly road. I wasn’t paying attention to the jogger when she ran in front of me. I thought I was going to get caught. But I didn’t.”
“Then let me guess, the thrill of not getting caught become intoxicating?”
“It did.”
“This happened around noon, just like all of the others?”
“Yes.”
Whitney nodded. “That’s what the psychologist Dr. Miller suggested when I interviewed him in episode 215. Well, Trent, you’ve answered all of my questions today. Before I let you go, as per tradition, I like to let my guests ask me a question.”
Trent didn’t say anything. Whitney added, “Don’t worry. I won’t shock you.”
Whitney pulled the chef knife from the cutlery drawer, walked over to Trent, and brushed the blade along the rope behind his back.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She sawed the rope just long enough to give him a false sense of hope before she stabbed him in the back. “I’m the Pacific Northwest Podcaster.”
Inspired by the writing prompt: “A well-known serial killer has been following you through town. He seems to be has been targeting you for a while now. But you’re not scared, in fact, you’re thrilled about it. Finally, you have a new target.”
I realized I hadn’t set any of my weekly stories in Washington state, where I grew up in my grade/middle school years. I got inspired by the writing prompt to have a serial killer stalk one of the woods there. Since it had been forever since I visited that area, the only park with a hiking trail I could think of was where my parents found a golden ticket for a radio contest. I texted my Mom for the name of the park. She asked why I was asking about it and I told her the premise of the short story. She asked me if I was going to incorporate a golden ticket into it somehow and I said I’ll see what I can do. Then she suggested it should be the killer’s calling card.
That’s the origin of this week’s short story. Thank you for reading!
After months of dreaming about a mysterious figure burying a box in front of a gnarled oak tree, Sydney stumbles upon the same oak tree during a jog.
Ripped away from the loving embrace of the comforter, Sydney fought to hold onto the dream as she tried to get a clear look at the mysterious person who had been regularly haunting her. She thought this would be the grand reveal. The faceless stranger would develop a face. This time she would succeed! But when that cover came off, Sydney drifted out of the dream, dragged backward by a giant invisible hand from her answer.
For the past few months, her dreams would start randomly (or be inspired to replay something stressful or embarrassing like dreams tend to do), but inevitably, the plot would shift toward her witnessing a small box being buried under a gnarled oak tree by a hooded figure, wrapped in red. Whenever they noticed her, it was dream over.
Sydney groaned, and she opened her eyes to her girlfriend, Chloe, standing beside her. Chloe sported a pair of bright, purple leggings (with the most enormous pockets she’s ever found on workout pants) and a tank-top with a creepy purple eye from some weird podcast she loved.
“Adventure!” Chloe declared as she tossed Sydney’s running pants in her face.
“I was so close,” Sydney mumbled with the pants on her face.
“To beating me in a race?”
Sydney tossed the pants on the floor as she sat up. “To getting a good look at the stranger burying that box.”
Chloe pitched a tank-top that read, “Adulting is Hard,” at Sydney, which she caught.
“That’s what you said last time.”
“And you woke me up early then too,” Sydney stated with a yawn. “Perhaps I should solve the mystery of how you can function this early without any coffee.”
“I’m freak like that,” Chloe winked. “Now, come on, adventure!”
Sydney did enjoy her morning jogs (and cycling on the weekends) with Chloe. They had been running together before they started dating. It was during one of their jogs when Sydney confessed her feelings for Chloe. She peered over at Chloe, who was wandering around in her imagination. She smiled, thinking of how happy she was with her.
Chloe tended to take random routes while jogging, cycling, car drives–it didn’t matter–she would get lost on purpose. “Adventure!” she would often proclaim as her excuse and defense. Today was no exception when she took an unannounced sharp right through a prairie grass field.
Sydney followed, making a mental note to check for ticks when they returned home as Chloe plowed forward. Shortly through the field, the ground dipped down to reveal a creek.
“A creek,” Chloe cheered. “This is so picturesque. Syd, you want to follow it up?”
Sydney shrugged. “Sure.”
Had Sydney known the path would lead them up a steep hill, she would’ve said no. Had Sydney known that the top of the secluded hill had an abandoned cemetery, she would’ve said hell no.
“Let’s see who can find the oldest tombstone,” Chloe challenged and raced to the nearest one.
There weren’t that many tombstones to inspect. Sydney’s best guest was 20. None of the grave markers stood out, but the gnarled oak tree off in the corner made Sydney freeze. Chloe shouted some date as she moved to inspect another, but Sydney drowned it out as she focused on the tree from her dream.
“No fucking way,” Sydney mumbled.
Chloe popped her head up. “What? What did you say?”
Sydney pointed. “It’s the same tree from my dreams.”
As Chloe turned to look, a person wrapped in a red cloak stood from the tree, coming into their view.
“No fucking way,” Sydney mumbled, again, louder this time for Chloe to hear. The stranger noticed them and ran off. Sydney bolted after them, shouting. “Hey! Stop! Who are you?”
Sydney chased them into a patch of prairie grass. A windowless, metal red door stood in the middle. The stranger was fast, faster than Chloe even. The stranger opened the red door and went through. When the door closed, it blinked out of existence.
Sydney stopped where the door once stood, with Chloe caught up.
“You saw that, right?” Sydney asked.
“Yeah, I saw that. That was the person from your dreams, right?”
“I think so.”
“Do you think they left that box behind too?”
Sydney paused. “You know what, we should go check.”
At the base of the gnarled oak tree was a patch of freshly moved soil. Sydney dropped to knees, declaring, “Fuck it,” as she started to dig with her bare hands. Without hesitation, Chloe kneed down and joined in.
After digging a foot deep, they unearthed a rustic wooden red box the size of a person’s head. Sydney lifted the lid off. Inside were a pair of red fabric facemasks and an index card. Sydney grabbed the note while Chloe took out a facemask.
“This handwriting looks like mine,” Sydney commented.
“What does it say?”
“You’ll both need these in three years for 2020.”
The red metal door opened. The stranger ran through, closed the door behind themselves, and took off their hood. It was an older version of Sydney by about five years. Together, under the night sky in an empty field, was a tall, slender man in a pink suit she knew as Loki and a woman named Raven with a similar slim build, but a little shorter and in a red dress. Behind those two was a door the same color as Loki’s suit.
“It’s done,” Sydney stated before she rapidly deteriorated into ash.
Raven tossed Loki a gold coin, which he ceremoniously caught. She tapped notes into her tablet.
“You won that round,” Raven graciously conceded. “She was willing to alter time, knowing it would cause her death, just to create a future with Chloe.”
“Don’t worry,” Loki teased as made the coin disappear from a sleight of hand trick. “You’ll get more opportunities, especially since those two live longer now.”
Inspired by the writing prompt, “Every night, you have the same dream. A small box being buried under a knarled oak tree, by someone you don’t recognize. The dream always ends when they notice you there. You don’t think too much of it, until one day, you spot the tree from your dreams, in the centre of a local graveyard.”
For this story, I decided to feature Sydney and Chloe from The Spiral Staircase in the Woods, to see them together as a couple. I struggled to decide what to put in the box. One of my first ideas was one of those personality cards from the Little Shop of Personalities, but then the whole face masks and 2020 warning came into my mind and I couldn’t think of anything else. I re-read their first story to make sure I didn’t anchor it at any time and then I ran with the idea. Originally I was trying not to feature Loki and Raven (and perhaps a new end-timer), but I liked that nice callback twist at the end I came up.
After escaping to an underwater ancient temple, Nerine jokingly asks the temple’s god to save her from the mechanical mercenaries. Someone responded.
Another explosion. Nerine bolted out of the boulder’s path–narrowly avoiding getting her fin squashed–as parts of the ceiling collapsed in the underwater cave. Before she could return to hiding, her entire body became engulfed in a red beam of light from the eyes of one of those responsible for the destruction. She thought the mercenary looked like a centaur, but with a crab body instead of a horse and the whole creature was mechanical. They pointed at her, triggering a swarm of mechanical crabs the size of octopuses to march after them.
“Go! Go! Go!” Nerine’s best friend shouted.
Nerine followed Océane as the two mermaids swam out the tunnel they came through.
“Keep going straight,” Océane ordered. “I’ll take the path on the right at the fork.”
“Split up? No!”
“It’s for the best.”
“But, you don’t know where that other path goes!”
“I’ll be fine. I’m faster than you. Now go!”
“But–”
“Just do it for me!”
Océane turned right at the fork while Nerine continued straight down the familiar path. As Nerine got closer to the exit, the tunnel narrowed slightly, but she knew it wouldn’t be tight enough to stop the mercenary. She swam through the neon pink seaweed that concealed the cave’s entrance, emerging beside an ancient temple in Neplor’s Historic Square District.
Due to the holiday, the local shops were closed, making the district deserted. With no alternatives, she swam into the Hall of Poseidon to hide. The building had an extensive open floor plan when the merpeople modernized the temple to become a vendor market space. The temple got built initially when the Atlanteans’ first arrived to the Blue Planet after being exiled from Earth thousands of years ago. After some freak storm soon after the temple’s completion, it sunk to the bottom of the ocean where the merpeople claimed it. Nerine only knew all this because she recently turned in a report about the district for history class.
With the venue’s open concept, Nerine’s only option to hide was behind the towering white marble statue of Poseidon. In this depiction of the ancient god, he stood tall with human-like form complete with legs and chiseled chest as he warmly looked down at those in the temple. The metal trident spear stood erect in his hand, which Nerine had often seen it used to hang banners and flags whenever Océane and her came to the market.
The moment she got behind the statue’s base, the mercenary made their presences known with the sound of the mental claws dinging against the marble floor. Nerine clenched her fists, resisting the urge to sneak a peek. Océane crossed her mind. She hoped her friend was safe. As a yellow beam of light scanned the area, Nerine looked up at the statue.
“I wish you were real and here to defend your temple,” Nerine prayed.
The sounds of the claws clink, clink, clinking on the marble floor echoed louder and louder in the waves as the mechanical crabs crept closer and closer. Then the tapping came to a halt. The light turned red, followed by sounds of metal ripping and bashing against the walls.
“Is that the best you got?” a voice provoked.
More metal clashed as the intensity ramped up. The mercenary’s light flickered out, and silence followed.
“You’re safe now,” the unfamiliar voice welcomed.
Nerine popped her out. Floating above the pile of metal wreckage was a merman wielding a trident who bore a striking resemblance to the statue of Poseidon, but with a merman body and luxurious, curly sea-green hair. He ripped off the mercenary’s head from his trident and added it to the scrap pile.
“Thank you,” Nerine spoke as she swam out, still on the alert for any danger.
“It was my pleasure,” the merman replied. “It’s been ages since someone called out to me for help.”
That can’t be Poseidon, she thought. He’s just a character.
“My brothers are going to be upset for interfering,” he rambled. “Worth it, though.”
“Why would your bothers be mad at you for helping me?”
“We’re supposed to work in ‘mysterious ways,’” he mocked with air quotes. “But Hades is one to talk with what he’s been doing lately for Cassie. Families, am I right?”
“Yeah, families can be tough,” Nerine remarked. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Don’t drown people with a statue of my head as a tribute,” he joked.
“I can do that,” Nerine responded, confused, not understanding the reference. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to go find my friend. Thank you again.”
“Safe travels, Nerine!”
Nerine swam out of the temple, but when she reached the entryway, Nerine paused to look back when she realized she never shared her name. The merman was gone.
I wrote a second story featuring Nerine and Océane for this week’s short story. To me, this could work as the last half a chapter for a book about their adventure. In case you missed it, read Upgrade Cave for the first story I wrote with them. I also made a subtle reference to another one of my previous short stories, Sacrificed, and a nod to one of my books I’m writing.
This story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn’t expect them to show up in person.”
A surprise date night at a high-energy dance party takes a deadly twist when a body crashes onto the dance floor. Armed with a mysterious music player that predicts the future through cryptic song titles, Haley and Robin must unravel the truth behind the murder before the night spirals further out of control.
UPDATED January 17, 2025! I’ve updated the story with major improvements and expanded the drama.
Robin Bee’s pulse quickened as she stepped into the courtyard of the Kruder Hotel, her fingers intertwined with Haley’s. The music hit her first—a pulsing, hypnotic bassline that seemed to wrap around her chest and pull her forward. Flashes of crimson lights sliced through the air, casting jagged shadows on the towering stone columns and tiered walkways that encircled the outdoor amphitheater.
Robin stumbled slightly as Haley tugged her onto the dance floor, her black dress shoes skimming the polished stone beneath them. The pulsing bass reverberated through the soles of her feet, sending an almost dizzying rhythm through her slender frame. Her blue skin shimmered faintly under the shifting neon lights, the tailored red blazer and matching trousers she wore lending her an air of quiet sophistication—a sharp contrast to the wild energy of the crowd.
“Come on, Bee!” Haley called over her shoulder, her rainbow-dyed hair swaying like a cascade of color with every step. The crimson lights danced across her pale skin and the fitted red crop top and matching skirt that hugged her petite frame, giving her the look of a firecracker ready to ignite. The vivid red of her outfit clashed in the best possible way with the electric streaks of blue in her eyes, which sparkled with mischief as she pulled Robin deeper into the fray.
Robin tried to protest, her voice almost lost in the thrum of the music. “We just got here! Can’t we—”
“Nope!” Haley spun around to face her, grabbing both of Robin’s hands. Her smaller fingers contrasted against Robin’s long, elegant ones, their skin tones forming a striking complement. Haley grinned, her energy infectious. “I’m not letting you chicken out. You look amazing tonight, and I’m not wasting this outfit.”
Robin smirked, glancing down at her blazer. “You think? I was going for a subtle ‘I belong in the sky’ vibe.”
“Well, you nailed it.” Haley twirled dramatically, the hem of her skirt flaring out as if to match the rhythm of the song. “Meanwhile, I’m going for ‘center of the solar system,’ so I need my partner-in-crime to keep up.”
A laugh escaped Robin’s lips, despite herself. She let Haley pull her closer, their contrasting outfits catching the shifting glow of crimson and gold lights as they joined the swaying crowd. Around them, other partygoers moved in synchrony to the music, but Robin’s focus stayed on Haley—her magnetic presence, her laughter, the way she seemed to belong here as effortlessly as Robin often did in quieter, steadier places.
“Admit it,” Haley teased, leaning in just close enough for Robin to hear. “You’re having fun already.”
Robin raised a skeptical brow, though her smile gave her away. “We’ve been here all of five minutes.”
“And that’s all it takes for the magic to kick in.” Haley winked, spinning away, her hand tugging Robin along, leaving her no choice but to follow.
Perched on the third-floor sound booth like a deity of nightlife entertainment, DJ Red House commanded the crowd’s attention. The purple-tentacled Lunirid cloaked in his signature red hooded overcoat bristling with countless zippered pouches, orchestrated the galaxy’s most popular tunes with hypnotic precision. His tentacles shimmered faintly under the strobing lights, their fluid, synchronized motions flowing with the music’s rhythm as if animated by the bass itself.
Haley leaned in close, her voice just audible over the music. “I’ve always wanted to go to a DJ Red House concert, but he rarely performs off The Black Planet.”
Robin smirked. “So, does this win the best surprise date night plan?”
Haley gave her an exaggerated shrug, her red shoes tapping the floor in time with the beat. “It’s got potential.”
Earlier that morning, Robin had won the tickets in a giveaway and spent the rest of the day planning the perfect surprise. She’d told Haley to wear red (without explaining this was to fit the dress code for the event) and meet her at Crossroads Station, keeping the venue—and the famous DJ—under wraps. Although Robin would’ve preferred a quieter evening, seeing Haley brimming with infectious vigor made everything worthwhile.
They passed a sasquatch server gliding through the crowd in a puffed red dress, balancing a tray of complimentary shots with one hand. Robin hesitated as Haley grabbed two glasses from the tray, handing one to her with a cheeky grin.
Haley handed Robin the glass with a mischievous grin. “To probably the best surprise date night.”
Robin clinked her glass against Haley’s with a smirk. “Probably? Guess I’ll have to kidnap a yacht next time to secure the title.”
Robin took a sip and immediately winced at the sharp, bitter burn. “What even is this?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
“Something amazing, clearly,” Haley replied, downing hers in one gulp. She gave a satisfied “whoop!” and set her empty glass back on the tray. “You’re such a lightweight.”
Robin chuckled despite herself as she returned the glass to the tray. “Maybe. But at least I’ve got moves.” She tugged Haley gently onto the dance floor, her hand warm and steady against Haley’s smaller one.
As they spun and swayed with the crowd, Robin caught herself studying Haley’s choice of shoes. The bright red dress shoes were perfect for dancing, but Haley usually picked more practical footwear for their escapades. “Not to pry, but what made you wear those shoes? I thought I did pretty good at keeping this activity a surprise.”
Haley glanced down and shrugged with a coy smile. “Guess I had a hunch we’d go out dancing.”
Robin tilted her head. “A hunch?”
“Well,” Haley began with a mischievous grin, “I might have cheated a little.” She pulled a sleek, palm-sized device from her pocket and held it up with a flourish. “Remember how I texted you about getting something that predicts the future?”
Robin arched a skeptical eyebrow, her blue skin faintly illuminated by the swirling neon lights. “Yeah. I thought you were joking. You weren’t?”
Robin arched an eyebrow, her tall frame leaning slightly closer to Haley. “And that’s when you found this… mystical artifact?” Her tone dripped with playful sarcasm, but her curiosity was unmistakable.
Haley’s grin didn’t falter. “Kind of. So, there I was, minding my own business, when this old human woman appeared—like, seriously old. Gray hair trailing to the ground, wearing a purple robe that looked like it came straight out of a fantasy vid.”
Robin blinked, her golden eyes narrowing. “Appeared? As in ‘poof, magic’ appeared?”
“Exactly!” Haley gestured wildly with the device, nearly dropping it. “She was surrounded by fog, and she had this whole mystic vibe going on. She walked—or floated, honestly—right up to me and handed me this thing. Said it was special.”
Robin crossed her arms, her long fingers tapping against her elbow. “And by ‘special,’ I assume you mean she said something cryptic to make it sound way cooler than it is?”
Haley straightened, readying herself for the big moment. “‘This sacred device is powered by music,’” she recited in an exaggerated, raspy voice, “‘ask a question and the song titles will guide you to right wrongs and uncover truths.’” She paused, grinning. “Or something like that. Then she literally floated away on a cloud. No joke.”
Robin squinted, trying to process what she’d just heard. “She floated away. On a cloud. You’re sure it wasn’t, like, a fog machine or some kind of hover tech?”
“I know how it sounds!” Haley threw up her hands, nearly whacking a nearby partygoer. “When that old woman handed it to me, I thought it was some weird joke. But after the first couple of times it worked—like really worked—I started paying attention.” She glanced at the device, her tone lighter now. “I mean, it’s still weird. Half the time the song titles don’t make sense. But when it does hit, it’s kind of spooky.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Oh yeah? How so?”
“Well, last week, one of the members at the parkour gym couldn’t find her bracelet—it was a gift from her grandmother or something, so she was freaking out.” Haley tapped the music player thoughtfully. “I asked it where it was, hit shuffle, and bam—‘Under Pressure.’ Guess where we found it?”
Robin’s lips twitched as she fought a smirk. “Under a weight bench?”
Haley snapped her fingers, pointing at her. “Exactly. And another time, I was running late for work and asked it how I could get there faster. It gave me ‘Take the Long Way Home.’ So I ditched my usual route and cut through the alley by the café instead.”
Robin’s eyebrows knit together as she leaned in, her curiosity evident.“And?”
Haley grinned. “Turns out, there was a fire on my normal route that had traffic completely backed up. If I hadn’t listened, I would’ve been late for sure.”
Robin crossed her arms, her fingers tapping against her elbow as she glanced at the music player. “I don’t know… it still feels like guessing to me.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “But I’ll admit, that’s a lot of accurate guesses.” Her curiosity peeked through despite herself. “How did you know we’d be here tonight?”
Haley grinned, leaning closer like she was about to share a juicy secret. “Earlier today, I asked it what I’d be doing tonight. Hit shuffle, and it gave me, ‘Dance the Night Away.’”
Robin chuckled, gesturing at the pulsing dance floor around them. “Okay, I’ll give it that one. But what about other stuff? Did you try asking it for lottery numbers or how to win some kind of huge prize?”
Haley sighed dramatically, tossing the music player in the air and catching it. “Oh, I tried. Believe me. I asked it how to win the grand prize at the arcade the other day, and you know what it gave me?”
Robin shook her head, smirking. “What?”
“‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want.’” Haley huffed, her eyes gleaming with mock indignation. “And sure enough, I didn’t win squat.”
Robin laughed, her slender shoulders shaking. “Sounds like that mysterious woman put some restrictions on it.”
Haley shrugged, her grin unfaltering. “Pretty much. It’s like it’s only interested in…righting wrongs and uncovering truths. Anyway, I thought we could prove this music player in a big way tonight.”
Robin eyed the music player, then Haley. Robin’s skepticism lingered. “This could just be a fancy coincidence machine.”
Haley smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Prepare to eat a big slice of humble pie, courtesy of my little music wizard. Watch this.” She held the device aloft, as if it were a sacred chalice, and spoke clearly. “How does Robin feel about this party?”
She tapped shuffle, then flipped the screen toward Robin. The song title read: “Comfortably Numb.”
Robin couldn’t help but chuckle, though a small unease crept into her thoughts. That’s… oddly specific. She glanced at the music player again, her skepticism flickering under the weight of its apparent accuracy. “Fair enough. The music’s making me numb, but being here with you makes it worth it.”
Haley kissed her neck. “Sweet talker.”
“Is the music on it any good?” Robin asked.
“I don’t know. There’s no speaker, and I can’t get it to connect to headphones or anything. I don’t recognize any of the songs or artists on it either—like they’re from a completely different planet.”
“Odd,” Robin said.
“Yeah, and there’s this tiny hole on the bottom that I have no idea what it’s for. I even scanned this music player with my networker, and nothing came up. It’s definitely unique. Plus, it doesn’t seem to run out of power.” Haley tapped the device thoughtfully. “Anyway, let’s ask for something juicy. Oh! What’s going to happen tonight?” She tapped shuffle again and read aloud. “‘Let the bodies hit the floor.’”
Robin mulled over her opinion as the DJ tossed fog bombs onto the dance floor and cracked the volume up. “That’s rather vague. That could just mean people collapsing drunk.”
Haley’s grin didn’t falter. “Let’s get specific. What’s the worst thing that’s going to happen tonight?” She hit shuffle again, and the answer appeared. Her smile faltered. “Oh.”
Robin leaned in, curiosity sparking. “What? What did it say?”
“‘Dead Man’s Party,’” Haley replied, shoving the player back into her pocket while scanning the area with sudden intensity.
Robin shifted uncomfortably, her gaze drifting over the crowd. A skeptical smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re not seriously expecting someone to drop dead, are you?” Her voice oozed sarcasm, but her eyes betrayed her, darting uneasily toward the pulsing dance floor as if daring the universe to prove her wrong.
A crash. The splintering of a table. Then, a scream from a partygoer.
Robin froze, her boots rooted to the polished concrete as chaos erupted—shattering glass, slick floors, and panicked voices. Her focus stayed locked on Haley. Her girlfriend was already sprinting toward the commotion, weaving effortlessly through the confused crowd with a determination that burned brighter than the neon lights overhead.
Robin’s stomach knotted. She wasn’t built for this—the noise, the unpredictability, the mess. She thrived on steady routines: mornings baking pastries, quiet afternoons with a book, and evenings that went exactly as planned. This night was supposed to be fun, sure, but safe. Now, here she was, caught in a swirl of chaos she hadn’t asked for, watching Haley dive in headfirst like she belonged there.
Haley didn’t need her—at least, not in a moment like this. She was fearless, magnetic, the kind of person who thrived on adventure. And yet, wasn’t that what Robin loved about her? The way Haley made her want to step out of her carefully built comfort zone, even when it terrified her?
Her gaze found Haley again, standing in the heart of the commotion, bathed in the pulsing crimson glow. She wasn’t waiting. She wasn’t looking back.
Robin swallowed hard, exhaling sharply as she forced herself to move. A single thought cut through the noise in her head: Haley might not need me, but I’m not leaving her to face this alone.
She stepped forward, then another, her stride growing steadier as the music pounded in her chest. “Alright, Bee,” she muttered under her breath, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
By the time Robin reached her, Haley was crouched over the body of a man sprawled on the dance floor, as if he had fallen from one of the VIP booths above. A knife protruded from his chest. The pounding bass rattled the air, oblivious to the eerie stillness that had gripped the nearby crowd.
Haley’s face lit up—not with horror, but with barely-contained excitement. She glanced back at Robin, her grin wide and irrepressible. “A test!”
Robin groaned inwardly. Of course, Haley would see this as an opportunity.
As hotel staff scrambled to cordon off the area, ushering everyone away from the man, Haley whipped out her music player, her fingers dancing over the buttons.
“You’re not seriously…” Robin began, trailing after her.
“Let’s see,” Haley muttered, ignoring her. “Where is the killer?” She hit shuffle and read aloud the answer. “‘High Noon.’”
Their eyes shot upward toward the DJ booth, now ominously empty, but music still playing. The blood-red lights throbbed like a living entity, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Haley’s brow furrowed, suspicion and determination etched into her face as she tightened her grip on the music player.
“Maybe I should just ask outright, ‘Who killed the guy on the dance floor?’” Haley said, tapping the shuffle button. She squinted at the screen. “‘Stranger in a Strange Land.’”
Robin crossed her arms. “Super helpful.”
Haley ignored the sarcasm. “Okay, why did they do it?” She hit shuffle again. “‘Taking Care of Business.’”
Robin placed a steadying hand on Haley’s shoulder. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere.”
“Wait,” Haley said, her eyes narrowing as she pieced the clues together. “It has to be DJ Red House. He was up there, and he’s not from this planet, so he fits the ‘stranger in a strange land’ bit. Plus, I overheard someone saying earlier that he’s only doing this gig as a quick business venture.”
Robin hesitated, her gaze drifting to the music player in Haley’s hands. It still felt ridiculous to put stock in a device powered by cryptic song titles, but the thought of letting Haley charge into danger alone tightened something in her chest. With a sigh, she relented. “Fine. But if this thing gets us into trouble, I’m blaming you.”
Haley’s grin returned, sharp and full of mischief. “One more question. Where can we find him?” She tapped the shuffle button and read the result aloud: “‘Telephone Call from Istanbul.’”
Robin blinked. “What’s a telephone? And where’s Istanbul?”
Haley shrugged. “A telephone could be like a networker call, right? That would mean he would be inside, trying to find a quiet place to chat with someone from a place called Istanbul. Come on, let’s find out.”
With a resigned sigh, Robin double-tapped her networker on her wrist. The holographic screen flickered to life as she navigated to the recording app and activated Safety Mode. Should anything happen to her, the app would contact the local protectors for help–even sending audio and video should her life vitals detect danger. Satisfied, she dismissed the screen and followed Haley down the grand, dimly lit hotel corridors. Her boots echoed against the marble floors, the sound stark against the lavish quiet. The plush red walls and gilded mirrors exuded opulence, but as they ventured deeper, the ambiance shifted. Ornate decor gave way to sleek, minimalist lines, the warmth replaced by a sterile, corporate chill.
The distant thrum of music and chatter from the courtyard faded into an unnerving silence, making Robin’s skin prickle. Haley quickened her pace toward the stairwell while Robin hesitated, wrinkling her nose at the musty odor. Haley turned, gesturing for her to follow, her expression impatient but determined.
Haley pressed herself against the wall, her breathing quick and uneven as she strained to catch the muffled conversation drifting down the stairwell. DJ Red House’s voice was low, barely audible over the faint hum of distant music.
“Our business has been taken care of,” he said, his tone tight with frustration. “The man is dead, just like you wanted. I made it look like a drunken lover’s quarrel. Now, are you holding up your end of the deal?”
Haley’s eyes widened, and she glanced back at Robin, who was crouched low behind her. Robin leaned closer. “Did he just—”
“Shh!” Haley whispered sharply, motioning for her to stay quiet.
The faint crackle of another voice echoed from the DJ’s networker, distorted but still audible. “You’ll get what was promised… as long as you don’t screw this up. Stay where you are. We’ll contact you from Istanbul when it’s time to meet.”
DJ Red House let out a bitter laugh, his tentacles twitching visibly through the narrow gap in the staircase. “But if you’re spinning me into a void—”
“You’re in no position to make threats,” the voice interrupted. “Stay the course, and you’ll get what you want.”
The call ended with a sharp click, leaving a tense silence in the wake. A cold knot formed in Robin’s chest as she tried to process what she’d just overheard. “He’s not doing this on his own,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Haley nodded, her mind racing. “Someone’s pulling the strings. But why would a DJ—especially him—get roped into something like this?”
Robin hesitated, her fingers gripping the railing tightly as her gaze flicked upward. This thing actually worked, she realized, uneasily glancing at Haley and the music player. It wasn’t luck that brought them here—it was the device. “Whatever it is, it’s big enough to make him desperate,” she said finally, though a new, reluctant respect for the music player tugged at her thoughts.
Haley’s jaw tightened as she started up the stairs, her skirt swishing with each step. “Well, desperate people make mistakes. Let’s catch him before he makes another.”
Robin lingered for a moment, her long, slender frame tense as she glanced around the hallway. She exhaled, muttering, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” before following Haley up the stairs.
The footsteps startled DJ Red House. He turned, his tentacles twitching with oily charm. “Hey there, ladies. Looking for a good time?”
“I’m looking for answers,” Haley snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You killed that man—‘taking care of business,’ wasn’t it?”
The smirk on the DJ’s wrinkled purple face vanished, replaced by a glare sharp enough to make Robin flinch. “You don’t know what you’re interfering with,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Before Haley could respond, the DJ’s tentacles darted into his overcoat, emerging with gleaming spheres. In one swift motion, he hurled them to the ground.
Acrid smoke erupted around them, choking the stairwell in a blinding, suffocating fog. Haley coughed but pushed forward, her instincts taking over. Behind her, Robin clutched the railing, struggling to breathe through the burning haze as her networker’s distress call activated. Above the chaos, she could hear Haley’s determined footsteps pounding up the stairs, her girlfriend’s fiery resolve blazing through the turmoil like a nebulynx chasing a moonsparkle. Robin’s networker vibrated faintly, a confirmation message flashing: ‘Protectors en route.’ She exhaled, hoping they’d arrive before things got worse.
“Haley!” Robin choked out, her voice muffled by the thick smoke. The fading sound of the DJ’s rattling overcoat and Haley’s relentless pursuit clawed at her nerves. No way I’m letting Haley face this alone, she thought as she forced herself forward, gripping the handrail for balance as her boots skidded against the now-slick steps.
Haley surged ahead, adrenaline coursing through her as she burst from the fog at the top of the stairs. Her parkour skills kicked in, guiding her movements as she spotted DJ Red House slipping through a set of double doors. She glanced back to see Robin struggling up the final steps, her face set with determination. Robin waved her onward.
Haley hesitated for only a heartbeat, her jaw tightening. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and sprinted after the DJ, her resolve burning brighter than ever.
Haley burst through the conference room doors, revealing a sprawling multipurpose space with tables and chairs stacked neatly against the walls. The DJ turned at the noise, his tentacles twitching in irritation before he lobbed more smoke bombs across the carpeted floor. They erupted with a series of deafening hisses, spewing plumes of crimson smoke that quickly consumed the room. But Haley pressed forward, undeterred, trusting her instincts that nothing would block her path.
Robin stumbled in moments later, coughing as she squinted through the thick haze. “Haley? Where are you?”
“Here!” Haley’s voice cut through the fog, distant but steady.
As the haze thinned, Haley spotted the DJ climbing the balcony control booth, his tentacles coiling around the railing as he hoisted himself upward.
Haley groaned, her frustration spilling out in a muttered curse. “Of course, he’s making this harder.”
She whipped out the music player, gripping it tightly as she stared at the screen. “Alright, what now?” She hit shuffle, her breath catching as the screen blinked back: “Throw Me Hard.”
Her brow furrowed as she glared at the cryptic response. Her gaze flicked between the device and the DJ, who was nearly over the ledge. “You better not be messing with me,” she muttered.
Haley planted her feet, inhaled deeply, and launched the music player with all her strength. The device spun through the air in a blur, tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat until it struck the DJ’s head with a resounding crack.
The DJ grunted, his tentacles scrambling and failing to catch hold. He toppled backward with a heavy thud onto the carpeted floor.
Haley wasted no time pouncing and pinning the DJ beneath her. “Help! Over here!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the lingering haze.
Robin reached her side moments later, panting but visibly relieved. “You alright?”
Before Haley could answer, the conference room doors burst opened and two protectors strode in, their arrival triggered by Robin’s Safety Mode app. Behind them trailed the hotel manager, a wiry individual whose nervous energy radiated with every step.
The taller protector, Peacekeeper Mira—a feline humanoid of the nyxis race—moved with graceful precision, her ears swiveling at every sound. Her golden fur shimmered faintly under the lighting, and her piercing green eyes carried both warmth and authority. Beside her stood her partner, Peacekeeper Demos, a stocky chymera with hands resting on his hips. His curved horns gleamed like polished obsidian, and his pale, stone-like skin gave him an imposing yet gentle presence.
DJ Red House twisted his head to see the protectors in their bright while and yellow uniforms, his tentacles drooping as dread flickered across his wrinkled face.
“Are you all okay?” Peacekeeper Mira asked, her tone firm yet gentle. Her sharp gaze flicked between Haley, Robin, and the subdued DJ. “What’s going on here?”
Haley stepped forward, still catching her breath, but her voice was steady. “DJ Red House killed the man on the dance floor. We caught him trying to escape.”
Peacekeeper Demos shifted his weight, his deep voice rumbling with curiosity. “That’s a serious accusation. Do you have any evidence?”
Robin nodded, her hand shaking slightly as she activated her networker. A holographic screen flickered to life, and she played the recorded evidence. “This should clear things up,” she said, her voice steadier than her trembling hand.
The hotel manager, Mr. Vellian, fidgeted by the door, his elongated fingers twisting a pen. His pale green complexion darkened slightly with unease. “But, DJ Red House–”
Peacekeeper Mira silenced him with a wave of her hand, her focus fully on Robin’s holographic recording. The protectors watched the footage in silence, their expressions hardening as DJ Red House’s incriminating conversation on the stairway echoed through the room. When the video showed DJ Red House tossing the smoke bombs at the couple, Robin stopped playback.
Mira turned sharply to Mr. Vellian. “Pull up the security feeds of the show. Now.”
Mr. Vellian nodded so quickly it was almost a bow. “Yes, of course.”
He fumbled with his networker–a star shaped design necklace–before projecting the footage. While Mira watched as the manager rewind and switch angles back to the concert, Peacekeeper Demos crouched beside DJ Red House. With practiced efficiency, Peacekeeper Demos patted down the crimson overcoat. The DJ sighed in protest, his tentacles writhing sluggishly, but he didn’t resist as the protector retrieved a set of remaining smoke bombs.
Meanwhile, the video confirmed DJ Red House tossing the smoke bombs into the dance floor, jumping down to the second floor to stab the man arguing with another individual under the cover of the smoke.
“Looks pretty damning to me,” Haley said, standing up and brushing herself off.
Peacekeeper Mira gave a sharp nod after reviewing the security footage. “Good work.” She turned her attention to Haley and Robin, her stern demeanor softening slightly. “My scans say you’re Haley Riot and Robin Bee, correct?”
The two nodded in unison.
“If we need to follow up, we’ll be in touch, but this should wrap things up. Again, thank you.”
The protectors hoisted DJ Red House to his feet. As they escorted him out, his gaze lingered on Haley and Robin—a sad, defeated look that seemed to puzzle Robin’s thoughts. She glanced at Haley, who stood unfazed, her focus already elsewhere.
Mr. Vellian let out a long breath, visibly relieved. “Well, I suppose I should thank you both. Though I do hope this is the last of this kind of excitement.”
The hotel manager followed the protectors out. With the situation resolved, Haley retrieved her music player from the ground, inspecting for damage. A wide grin spread across her face when the screen blinked to life, unscathed. “Tough little thing, isn’t it?”
Robin leaned against the wall, regaining her composure. “I can’t believe you really figured it out,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “You—you chased down a killer, pieced it all together, and… I don’t even know how we didn’t get arrested.”
Haley turned, her grin softening into something warmer. “Is that your way of saying I’m amazing?”
Robin chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s my way of saying you’re exhausting and amazing—usually at the same time. And… maybe your weird music player isn’t entirely nonsense.” She smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I still have some concerns.”
Haley laughed, slipping an arm around Robin’s shoulders. “I’ll take it.”
Later, on the light rail ride home, the low whir of the passenger car filled the quiet between them, blending with the soft whir of climate-controlled air subtly infused with calming lavender. Haley sank into her plush, contoured seat, the upholstery recently cleaned. Her networker buzzed softly, displaying a notification from the city’s Collective Harmony app, requesting feedback on the rail system’s comfort and punctuality. She glanced at the message and swiped the screen to postpone her response.
Overhead, amber lighting bathed the car in a soothing glow, while large windows offered a blurred panorama of the city streaking by. The rail passed through a sky park where trees grew among towering buildings, their canopy providing shade for residents relaxing in the open-air lounges.
Haley’s leg bounced with unspent energy, her excitement undiminished by the smooth, vibration-free ride. The music player twirled between her fingers, its polished surface gleaming under the cabin lights. A triumphant grin spread across her face, still riding the adrenaline of the night’s events.
“That was incredible,” she said, breaking the silence. “We took down a killer and didn’t even break anything expensive. Admit it, Robin—we make a great team.”
Robin, resting against the window, let out a soft chuckle. The city lights blurred into streaks outside, their glow casting faint patterns on her tired face. “Sure, if by ‘team’ you mean me stumbling after you while you take life advice from a magical gadget.”
Haley laughed, leaning closer to her. “Don’t sell yourself short! You recorded the evidence, kept your cool, and didn’t bail when everything went sideways. That’s pretty badass if you ask me.”
Robin shifted in her seat, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I did alright.”
Haley grinned, holding the music player aloft like a prized trophy. “Freelance Investigator,” she declared dramatically, striking a mock detective pose with one hand on her hip and the other clutching the device as if it were a magnifying glass.
Robin smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Oh no. What is it this time?”
Haley twirled the music player between her fingers like a seasoned entertainer. “Picture it: ‘No mystery too weird, no clue too small.’” She leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “And the best part? I’ll even let you be my partner.”
Robin snorted, shaking her head. “Partner? More like the one who keeps you out of trouble.”
“Exactly!” Haley leaned back, resting her hands behind her head. “We’d be unstoppable.”
Robin smirked, a spark of playfulness creeping into her tired gaze. “If you’re serious about this, you’ll need a nickname or alias.”
Haley’s eyes lit up as she looked down at the music player. “What should my investigator name be?” She hit shuffle and read the song on the screen. “Ooh! ‘The Sounds.’ That’s perfect—clean, mysterious, and catchy. I could totally rock that.”
Robin studied her for a moment, the warmth in her chest cutting through her exhaustion. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
Haley’s smile softened. “Maybe. I’m not planning on quitting my day job right away. Tonight was terrifying and exhilarating—and I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Robin’s gaze softened, and she reached out, intertwining her fingers with Haley’s. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Haley smirked. “You love it.”
Robin rolled her eyes, though her grip on Haley’s hand tightened. “Maybe. But next time, can we aim for a quieter night out?”
Haley laughed, her head falling back against the seat. “Not my style, Bee. You know that.”
For Body Drop, I had a few different sources of inspiration. I wanted to write a story to serve as an origin story for my character, The Sounds, who I have in other unpublished works. The setting was inspired by the following writing prompt: “Everything was going along quite smoothly at the hotel party seeing as everyone was enjoying themselves, that is until a man falls into the middle of the dancefloor from the roof of the building with his hands tied.”
Finally, I asked people on social media to share song titles for me to incorporate into the story. I used the following songs: High Noon by Kruder & Dorfmeister, Stranger in a Strange Land by Leon Russell, Anything from Dead Can Dance, Red House by Jimi Hendrix, Telephone Call from Istanbul by Tom Waits, Let the Bodies Hit the Floor by Drowning Pool, Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd, Renegade by Styx, Taking Care of Business by Bachman–Turner Overdrive, Staying Alive by Bee Gees, and Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo. Some of the songs I used the titles as the hints Haley got while others I wove in other ways with character names.
Story Artwork by Chen Kang at Design Pickle.
Thank you for reading, and thanks again to everyone for all their suggestions!
Upon returning to his home office after getting a snack, Roland finds a magical staff and a black envelope with a dire warning.
Roland’s stomach demanded a tribute. The words he wrote on his computer screen taunted him with their imperfections and lack of direction. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to visualize where to go next, but he knew he was stuck.
“Might as well eat,” Roland grumbled to himself as he pushed away from his desk, imagining himself as a rocket blasting off. “This scene isn’t going anywhere.”
Roland left his home office, thinking about what to eat and not how to write to the kidnapping scene in his latest crime thriller novel. Roland found his husband, Trevor, at the kitchen table, still sorting through Excel data-sheets. While Roland was used to working from home, Trevor was still adjusting to the new normal that they both hoped wouldn’t last forever. Roland had a personal bet that it would take three weeks before Trevor would dress more casually for work. He gently kissed Trevor on the forehead to send a moment of peace to his spouse.
From the fridge, Roland pulled one of the curry meals he made during meal prep day. After microwaving the tray of food, he returned to his office. On the desk was a wooden staff with a black envelope under it. The four-foot long staff was carved out of a white driftwood and had five pointed tips on the top.
“Trevor,” Roland shouted. “Could you come here.”
Trevor walked up to him. “What is it?”
Roland pointed at the unknown objects on the desk. “How did those get on my desk?”
“I was with you in the kitchen the whole time.”
“I know, but how did these get here?”
“Is the window open?”
Roland sat down his curry and checked. “It’s locked.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
Roland picked up the black standard No. 10 envelope, which he only knew the formal name because of Trevor. On the back was a red wax seal pressed with an image of a pair of crossed swords. Without any tools, Roland ripped open the envelope. Inside was a handwritten letter on aged yellow paper.
“When the sun sets, a dragon will emerge at Willson Park,” Roland read aloud. “Use this staff to stop the dragon from destroying your city. May the hearts be with you.”
Trevor let a light chuckle. “This is bizarre.”
Roland sat down the letter and picked up the staff for closer inspection. “Maybe this staff is magical,” he joked as he pointed it at his peace lily in the corner. “I cast magic missile.”
The staff’s tips lit up bright orange and sparked a ball that shot out at the plant. As the plant caught fire, Trevor rushed to the kitchen and brought back their fire extinguisher.
“What did you do!?” Trevor wailed as he put out the fire.
“I don’t know!” Roland defended. “I didn’t think it would do anything. I wonder what else it can do…”
Trevor pointed the fire extinguisher at the staff. “How about you take that thing outside?”
“I should get to the park instead. The sun is starting to set.”
“Are you crazy?”
“You saw what happened. What if there is a dragon?”
“What if there is a dragon? How are you going to stop it?”
“I don’t know yet, but we should go see.”
Trevor sighed. “Fine. Let’s go. I could use the walk and fresh air.”
Tucked away behind their neighborhood, Wilson Park’s most prominent feature was their disc golf course. The playground was tapped off, closed to the public for safety. The park itself was empty except for Roland and Trevor. They stood in an open field near the pond, searching the skies.
All the ducks at the pond quickly flew away, catching Roland and Trevor’s attention as a purple dragon the size of a truck emerged from the pond. Roland pointed the staff at the dragon as the beast marched toward them. Trevor stood behind Roland, armed with the fire extinguisher.
“Keeper of the Staff, my qualm is not with you,” the dragon spoke with forbearing authoritativeness. “I only seek my kidnapped child, but I will destroy those in my path.”
“I was told you would destroy the city,” Roland explained, confused.
“My only concern is for my child, so unless you are here to help me, step aside.”
An idea struck Roland. “Maybe I can help.” Roland waved the staff in a giant circle. “I cast magic portal to the dragon’s child.”
The tips of the staff sparked purple lights. A swirl of bright colors formed in the circle Roland drew in the air until a green dragon the size of a large dog playfully jumped out from the portal. The portal disappeared, collapsing on itself with a cheerful crackle.
“Little one!” the purple dragon exclaimed. “You are safe.”
The little dragon wagged their tail and happily barked at their parent. The parent picked up their child and placed them on their back. With a yawn, the child snuggled against one of the scaly spikes and fell asleep.
“Thank you,” the dragon praised with a forward bow. “Your wisdom and kindness are unprecedented. You forever have my gratitude.”
The dragon walked back into the pond. Roland and Trevor watched in bewilderment as the waves calmed. The staff transformed into duck feathers and blew out of Roland’s grasp, leaving him with no proof.
“I have no idea what just happened here,” Trevor confessed.
“Me neither, but you know what,” Roland said as he put an arm around Trevor. “I think I need to take a hard left with my book and put in a fantasy world.”
This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “You leave your room to grab a snack from the fridge. When you get back, there’s a wooden staff on your desk. Under it, there’s a black envelope.”
