Tag: Prompted Page 1 of 12

Stories inspired by writing prompts.

A drawing of a young adult woman waking up in a fancy train high that's in outer space as two people on a TV screen explain that she is on a game show.

Resurrection on the Oriental Express

On August 9, 2022

People from various worlds wake up on a train where they have to solve who is reviving people from the dead in this reverse murder mystery game show.

Elle snuggled tight on her comforter while forcing her eyes to stay close so she could continue to soak in her luxurious sleepy state. Her bed felt unnaturally comfortable like she was staying at a premium resort. Then a voice in her head asked, “Is this even your bed?”

Elle opened her eyes.

The bed was not hers. For starters, Elle’s room did not resemble a royal suite on a train. Waking up in unknown places was not something that happened to her unless one counted all the times she fell asleep in the car during a road trip. However, this was not a road trip, and she wasn’t on vacation either. She vividly recalled going to bed at her apartment, dressed in different clothes. Nothing was out of the ordinary about that night.

Elle spun around and looked at the window behind her. The vastness of endless galaxies shimmered outside. Her heart began to race as she looked up and down through the window.

“I’m in space, but there’s gravity,” she whispered. “This doesn’t make sense.”

As she settled back into the bed, the flatscreen TV across the wall turned on with two siblings standing next to each other in a bright white room.

“Good morning, Elle,” the man in the pinkish suit said with a sly smile and the high energy of a game show host.

“We hope you slept well,” the woman in the red dress said like a scientist conducting a study as she made a note on her tablet device. “I’m Raven, and this is Loki.”

“Where am I?” Elle asked, unsure if they could hear her.

“You’re on the Oriental Express,” Raven said. “That we put in space with some modifications.”

Loki spun in a circle. “And we have you here for a game. It’s like a murder mystery, but in reverse, as everyone tries to solve who is bringing people back from the dead.”

All Elle could blurt out in response was, “What?”

“The door to your suite will unlock in 10 minutes, giving you time to use the bathroom and enjoy the breakfast we’ve prepared.” Raven pointed below where a feta cheese and egg white spinach wrap raised from a compartment on the dresser. “Figure out who among you is raising the dead, and you get to go back home.”

“However.” Loki waved his finger. “If they revive all seven people first, you will be stuck here forever.”

The image of the siblings transitioned away to a logo of a magnifying glass over a dead body. Elle sat there for a moment, processing everything. She was positive this was not a dream. With no other options, Elle followed their suggestion to eat and freshen up. She didn’t find another set of clothes, but she woke up in attire she would’ve worn to a bunch with friends.

When 10 minutes passed, the doors on each side of the train car automatically opened. Elle looked in the mirror and said to herself, “You are going to embrace the weirdness.”

Elle picked the exit closest to her. A row of yellow fluorescent lights flickered on above as she stepped into a room that felt like one where police would watch an interrogation. File cabinets that seemed to be over a hundred years old lined the dark green concrete walls. Elle scratched her nose at the faint smell of cigarettes.

“Is someone there?”

Elle turned her attention to the room on the other side of the one-way mirror, where a tall man in a black suit with purple pinstripes paced around the room. His skin color was burgundy, while his hair consisted of a blue flame, making Elle think of Hades from the Disney movie Hercules. With a grumble, the strange man adjusted his red tie as he sat down on the steal chair.

The man spoke to the camera like somebody making comments on a reality show. “Which one of you is behind this?”

The man paused, waiting for a response. None came. Elle didn’t dare respond herself. The stranger leaned forward, keeping eye contact with the camera. “What would my wife suggest I do? She would play along.”

The man cleared his throat and sat up straight. He put on a smile. “My name is Hades, a.k.a the God of the Underworlds, and I’m excited to be here to play this game.”

A green light above the door in his room turned on. “Huh. That worked.”

Hades left the room, entering the one with Elle. She took a step back as he looked down at her.

“Hello, there,” Hades said as he studied Elle like a bargain bin book. “I presume you’re stuck here too, mortal. Do you know what’s going on?”

Elle thought for a moment about how to explain. “Well…I woke up in this train car where these two people on the TV said I was on a game show. There is someone on this train bringing people back to life, and we have to solve the mystery of who’s doing it if we want to get back home. We’ll be stuck here if they resurrect all seven dead people.”

“Interesting,” Hades said as he crossed his arms. “I didn’t get that introduction. What did these two look like?”

“One wore this pinkish suit, and the girl had this red dress.”

Hades groaned. “Loki and Raven.”

The way Hades spoke their names made Elle think that that’s how Commissioner Gordon felt when hearing the news that yet another villain was running amok in Gotham. Elle was even more intrigued about these two individuals. “Yeah, that’s who they said they were. Who are they?”

“They are a pain. That’s who they are.”

“Is this Loki like the Norse god?”

“No. Far from it. They are end-timers, eternal beings that can travel throughout time. Only the universe itself is above them.”

Elle’s jaw hung in confusion. “But you’re like a god, right?”

“Yes, but they can go back into time and erase me from existence.”

“Woah.”

“That’s one word for it, kid.” Hades started walking to the next train car. “Come on, let’s solve this mystery.”

“You seem…different from what I’ve read,” Elle said as she followed.

“People wrote those accounts of us over 2,000 years ago, so they’re missing a ton of character development and not to mention all the inaccuracies.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.” Elle held out her hand for a shake. “I’m Elle, by the way.”

Hades shook her hand like a professional. “Hades, which I assume you knew from watching me.”

Elle rubbed the side of her arm as her eyes drifted to her white sneakers. “Yeah.”

The show’s hosts decorated the following room in a vintage royalty style similar to Elle’s car, but as a dining room with several square tables with a chair on each side. Elle rushed to the dead body of a human male lying in the middle of the floor while Hades looked out the window into the space.

“That explains why I’m so weak,” Hades said as he stared outside. He turned to Elle and asked, “Is he one of the dead?”

Elle checked for a pulse on the neck. “Yeah, he’s dead. Wait a second. How do I know you’re not the one who can resurrect people?”

Hades waved his hand and rolled his eyes. “Please. I manage the dead. I don’t bring them back to life. Also, deities receive some powers from those that believe in them, and no one is around.”

“Oh,” Elle said as she stood up. “I guess we should try to find the others.”

“Agreed. Let’s check out the next room.”

***

Ildikó awoke to a golden retriever licking her face. While some people would’ve found being licked by a dog in the morning funny or cute, Ildikó was terrified. Nilnorians did not have dogs on their planet. She shoved the animal and stood up against the wall. The room was like a forest, covered in grass and plants, but with windows to outer space.

“What are you?” Ildikó asked as she searched her tactical vest for a knife, only to find none equipped. “Where are my weapons?”

The dog wagged his tail and ran off. Ildikó recalled a tree branch hitting her across her head. She thought she had died, but her attacker must’ve rendered her unconscious instead and brought her here. She was thankful she wasn’t chained but confused about why not. As she surveyed her foreign surroundings, a TV mounted to a tree switched to a broadcast of Loki and Raven.

“Hello, Ildikó,” Raven greeted warmly. “Are you ready to join the game?”

“Who are you?” Ildikó demand. Loki and Raven looked similar to her, but they had beige skin and black hair, while Ildikó’s was purple, prompting her to ask, “What are you?”

“None of that matters,” Loki said, waving her off. “What matters is that six people on this train are dead, and someone among you is bringing them back to life. To get home, you must solve the mystery of who’s resurrecting everyone.”

Ildikó clenched her fists. “You dare challenge me.”

Loki and Raven cracked half a smile together before the screen transitioned to the logo of a magnifying glass over a dead body.

“Hello, there!”

Ildikó faced the friendly voice, ready to fight.

“You must be another player,” said the dry, scaly blue skin person in a white robe. “I’m Tate and this Gnarl.”

The red furry beast on two legs with a body of a bull wearing jeans, a black t-shirt with an illustration of a cinnamon roll, and an apron bowed. “Greetings.”

Ildikó relaxed. “My name is Ildikó. I have never seen any people like you on my planet. How are we able to understand each other?”

Tate shrugged. “We figured it has to be something to do with this place.”

Gnarl took a step forward. “We are trying to account for everyone on this train, both alive and dead. We found two of the seven dead.”

“Seven dead?” Ildikó repeated. “I was told there were six.”

Tate and Gnarl exchanged glances.

“The person must already be reviving people,” Tate said.

Gnarl nodded. “We should make haste.”

***

Elle’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a theme park as she and Hades entered a room filled with colorful plastic balls in a pool. Elle immediately jumped in upon the sight of the ball pit. When she emerged, the balls were up to her chest. With caution, Hades stepped in. He picked up a ball for inspection as Elle swam around.

“There might be a dead body here,” Hades said as he tossed the ball back down.

Elle stopped. Her heart sank. “Right. That’s a good point.”

From the opposite end of the pool, the golden retriever barked.

“There’s a dog!” Elle shouted with joy.

Elle wadded through the balls, carefully feeling each step for fear of stepping on someone. Hades followed with the same reserve. The dog waved his tail as they approached the other side to greet him.

“Hey, there,” Elle said in a playful voice devoted to speaking to dogs. “What’s your name?”

The dog barked.

Hades groaned. “He said his name is Zeus. But don’t get him confused with my brother. This dog is not my brother.”

Elle began to pet Zeus as Gnarl, Ildikó, and Tate entered.

“Greetings,” Gnarl bowed. “I am Gnarl and this is Tate and Ildikó.”

“Hi, I’m Elle, and that’s Hades, and this good boy is Zeus.”

Ildikó scoffed. “Didn’t realize that yellow beast had a name.”

“We have quite the ensemble here,” Hades said, summarizing. “Were you all informed that we must find out who is bringing the seven dead people back to life?”

“We’re at six now, according to the latest broadcast Ildikó saw,” Tate kindly corrected. “Gnarl and I did find two dead individuals on our end.”

“We’ve only found one dead body so far in the previous room,” Elle added. “Though, there might be some in this ball pit. Did you all reach the end on your side?”

“Yes, I came from the end,” Gnarl said. “How about you?”

“The room I woke up in had two exits,” Elle said. “Perhaps we should head that way? Maybe this person is on the opposite end.”

Tate kneed down by the ball pit. “Is this substance you’re swimming in safe?”

Elle held up a ball in her hand. “It’s just plastic balls. They’re safe.”

Gnarl, Ildikó, and Tate slowly lowered themselves like people easing into a cold pool. Once inside, they began to shuffle through to the other side.

Elle looked back and saw the dog sitting by the edge, waiting. “Hold up! We should take Zeus with us.”

“Very well,” Hades said as he doubled back. He scooped up the golden retriever. The dog licked his face. “My dogs will be so jealous when I get home.”

About halfway through the pool, Gnarl fell into the balls. Everyone paused. Gnarl emerged a moment later. “Found another body. Looks to be the same species as you, Tate.”

Tate dived under to see for himself.

“No one I know,” he said when he resurfaced. “Let’s move along.”

Everyone continued, being a bit more cautious with their steps, but they didn’t trip on any more bodies. Hades sat Zeus down, and the dog bolted into the next room, wagging his tail. Everyone climbed out, helping each other out as needed. A crackle followed by a hum filled the room.

“Five people are remaining,” Raven announced over the intercom system.

There was another crackle and then silence.

Ildikó stormed into the next room. “We need to hurry.”

Everyone followed after her. The dining room was as Hades and Elle last saw, but with the dead person now alive, petting the dog.

“That person was dead when we were here,” Hades explained to the rest of the group.

“Then our healer must be near,” Ildikó as she ran to the next room.

Everyone rushed to the next room while Elle joined Zeus in greeting the previously dead guy.

Elle sat on the ground next to the guy, pleased to see another fellow human. “Hey, I’m Elle.”

“I’m Nathan. So I’m on a game show, huh? Weird cast of characters.”

Elle laughed. “Yeah. You wouldn’t by any chance remember seeing anyone when you woke up?”

Nathan shook his head. “No, just this dog licking me awake.”

A funny thought popped into Elle’s head. She scratched the dog under his chin. “I bet Zeus here brought you back to life, huh?”

The train car blacked out.

Elle woke up in her bed, dressed in an oversized tank top and underwear. She leaped out of bed, touching everything to ensure this was real. Satisfied, Elle plopped back down on her bed. She looked at her phone. The time was only 6 am.

“That was a weird dream,” Elle said.

Three knocks tapped on her front door. Confused, she tossed on her fluffy white robe to see who was there. On her front porch was a golden retriever who resembled the one in her dream. Elle kneed down, giving the dog scratches as she read the note attached to the collar.

“Dear, Elle,” she read aloud. “As a bonus for being the first person to guess correctly, you get to keep Zeus. Don’t worry. We took away his power to revive the dead. Congratulations!”

This short story was written for a challenge on Vocal. The prompt was: “Write a story about someone who wakes up on a train. They have no ticket and no memory of how they got there. Oh, and one more thing: the train shows no signs of slowing down.”

Thank you for reading!

Five young adults are gathered around a campfire on a full moon night as one of them stands up holding up a card with a skull as they tell a horror story

The Horror Prompt Card

By Dennis

On July 5, 2022

In Imaginary

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 photograph taken by Dennis Spielman of artistic metal gazebos in a courtyard designed to mirror the twin peaks mountains seen in the background.

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.

A photograph taken by Dennis Spielman of inside a small cave during the day at Quartz Mountain.

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 photographic reference of five young adults gathered around a fire pit as one of them holds up a black card

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.

Hope you enjoyed this campfire horror story!

The Dragon with the Time-Traveler Tattoo

By Dennis

On June 18, 2022

In Imaginary

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. 😉

Missing Memories

By Dennis

On March 26, 2022

In Imaginary

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.

This story is number 3 in The Sounds’ serial, with Body Drop and Testing Predictions on an Abandoned Village being the first two. Be sure to visit The Sounds webpage to catch up on continuing stories.

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.

The Winged Letter

By Dennis

On August 18, 2021

In Imaginary

With a pounding headache, Samantha wakes up in her New York City apartment unable to recall yesterday. As she tries to piece her memory together, a paper airplane flies into her studio apartment on the 15th-floor. Written on the wings in red capital letters were the words “open me.”

Beat. Beat. Beat. My head pounded with rage and ominous warnings, like The Master beating on a drum as he taunted The Doctor of his pending demise. I’ve never experienced a hangover before, but what I felt was what I imagined a hangover would feel. My brain took a few moments before reminding me that I don’t drink, and I didn’t go anywhere wild last night.

“What did I do last night?” I grumbled as I tossed off my white comforter. “And why am I in a purple dress? I don’t own a purple dress.”

Surely my phone would have answers. I climbed down the ladder of my twin-sized bed. My New York City apartment was only 342 square feet big, so wherever I left my phone, I wouldn’t have to look long. Fortunately, my iPhone was where it belonged on the charger on my desk under the bed.

I opened my messages—nothing from yesterday. I checked my calendar as I couldn’t remember anything about yesterday, but the calendar was blank. I checked my Instagram. No one tagged in any photos, nor did I post anything. Running out of apps to inspect, I opened my photos. One image unfamiliar to me was a woman standing behind a microphone, holding a book as she read aloud a passage. She reminded me of Gal Gadot, but with silver hair and the same purple dress on me. She even had leather arm bracers that matched her dress, further adding to my Wonder Woman comparison.

A cold breeze brushed on my skin. My only window was open. As I walked over to end the chill, a paper airplane flew into my 15th-floor apartment. The plane landed perfectly on my desk like someone used telekinesis for precise placement. I looked out the window to see who could’ve sent it, but there were just brick walls.

Written on the plane’s wings in red capital letters were the words, “OPEN ME.” The Scully voice of my brain told me this all had to be a hoax, while the Mulder’s voice told me to embrace this mystery.

Inside, the letter read, “Sorry I had to erase your memory. You caught me reading an excerpt from your future novel you hadn’t conceived yet, and the universe can’t have that now. Happy writing! Love, Brigit.”

I read the letter two more times. All I could muster as a response was a, “What?”

My mind drifted back to that photo I took last night. With the letter still in hand, I reopened the picture. I zoomed in on the book, seeing the title and author.

“The Winged Letter by Samantha Vincent.”

“No way,” I uttered. “No. Freakin’. Way.”

I pulled up the GPS information on the picture, which tagged a new coffee shop I hadn’t heard of before. As tempted as I was to leave right then and there, race to the coffee shop, show the staff the photo, and demand answers, my adult voice reminded me of my obligations. With a heavy sigh, I checked my email to see if my clients had any notes for me about the stories and articles I had written for them. I cracked open my laptop—no new mail. I hit refresh, and still, no new mail, which meant…

I’m going on an adventure, my inner Bilbo Baggins screamed.

I flipped out the dress, trading it out for white jeans and a red sweater. I then went to the bathroom and got myself ready for an epic quest as I listened to my favorite movie soundtracks. I had to know what happened last night, who this woman was, and how she got a book I hadn’t written yet. Before I left, I folded the mystery dress and put it in my messenger bag. I figured if I crossed paths with her, she might want the dress back.

“Let’s solve the mystery of my night,” I said, my voice shaking more than I would admit as I opened my apartment door to the real world.

On the subway ride to The Violet Raven, I rummaged through my messenger bag. I was hoping to find a business card, a phone number written down on a napkin, or a hotel matchbook like in those black and white detective noir movies to give me another clue. While I didn’t find any of those exact items, I did find a postcard flyer for a themed open mic session at The Violet Raven with yesterday’s date. The topic was “the future,” which I assumed caught my attention and explained why I went to this coffee shop for the first time.

As I returned the flyer, the subway car became wrapped in darkness. There were no emergency lights – not even a glow from people’s cellphones. I could hear the subway rolling along on the tracks, but nothing else. I fumbled through my pockets, trying to find my phone, when the light swept back, but the people did not return.

A ghostly figure with no legs and a skeleton body floated on the far end of the car. Their black-feathered robe moved to a wind that didn’t exist. The skull stared at me while my jaw dropped, unable to speak. Fear and intrigue paralyzed me as the apparition raised all four of their hands to point at me.

“Answer the call,” a voice whispered into my head.

Darkness swept over the car again, but this time the void only lasted for a brief moment and returned all the passengers. Everyone was passing the time with their books or cellphones with no expressions of panic or any indication they knew of their disappearance.

The subway train came to a stop. Although I was a few stops away from my destination, I bolted out and up to the surface. What the hell was that? I thought as the cool, October air calmed me down.

A colorful banner promoting a technicolor quilt exhibition provided a happy distraction until the phone booth ringed. I pulled up walking directions to The Violet Raven and continued my journey on foot. As I walked down the street, another phone booth ringed. I ignored the rings and went on. When the fifth one rang, I decided to answer.

I held the phone to my ear, listening for a moment before I said, “Hello?”

“Mocha with a triple shot of pepperoni,” the crackling voice on the other end spoke.

“Excuse me?”

“Mocha with a triple shot of pepperoni,” the voice repeated.

I hung up the phone. The click on the receiver triggered the skyscraper business complex to shimmer away, like a holographic façade hiding the real identity of a dilapidated three-story brick house. I looked at the people on the street. No one was paying any attention to the creepy house that suddenly appeared. I felt like I was the only one who could see the monstrosity.

“Why is this happening to me?” I asked the universe.

The universe did not respond.

I ran down the street, looking back from time to time as the business complex returned as I got further away. I turned the corner and realized I was almost to my destination.

Upon entering the boutique coffee shop, scents of lavender and fresh ground coffee greeted me, while the first thing that caught my eyes was the balcony. I felt like I stepped into a mini-opera house. I’d never seen a coffee shop or any business for that matter with that kind of layers of seating.

I pulled out my cellphone and brought up the photo. In the back center was a raised platform for a stage, and the flora wallpaper matched the one in my picture. The only difference now was a table and chairs on the stage instead of a microphone.

“Welcome to The Violet Raven! My name is Don. What’s yours?”

I was taken a bit back by his cheerful demeanor. Most places I visited were more straightforward.

“My name is Samantha.”

“Nice to meet you, Samantha. What can I get started for you?”

“I’m actually trying to find somebody from last night’s open mic.”

“You’re in luck. I happened to work last night.”

Yes! I thought as I performed a quick lucky dance in my head, and then I showed him the photo. “Do you know this person?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” he replied with slight hesitation. “Perhaps you would like to order something while you’re here?”

I sighed, but then I started to feel like Don was in on whatever was happening to me. I decided to put my theory to the test.

“I would like a mocha with a triple shot of pepperoni,” I said with confidence.

“Right this way,” Don said, leaving the counter. “Brigit is waiting for you.”

Don led the way to a door with “Staff Only” written in red lettering like my paper plane. Inside, the office walls consisted of shelves of books from the floor to the ceiling. As valuable as each square foot of real estate was here, the massive office felt like a show of power as a private room. Behind a standing desk stood the woman from my photo, dressed in the same iconic outfit. Don closed the door, leaving me alone with the stranger and her library of books and a single, tiny aloe vera on the desk.

I pulled out and placed the purple dress I presumed she loaned me on her desk. She looked at the outfit and then at me.

“You found me rather fast,” Brigit said as she crossed her arms and glared at me as if I cheated on a test. “I take it you didn’t go inside the haunted house?”

“Wait. You knew about that?” I accused her. “How? What is going on?”

“We met last night at the open mic. You confided in me that you wanted to write an urban fantasy novel, but you lacked inspiration. I had you take my photo, made you forget about last night, and set up this whole adventure for you.”

“Then what about the book from the future?” I asked.

Brigit grabbed the book from her shelf and spread open the empty pages. “Just a prop.”

While I thought of my next question, Don knocked twice and opened the door. “Hey, boss. Something bizarre just happened.”

Brigit waved him in. “What happened?”

“I was about to clean table 14 when this purple crack appeared on the table and sucked away the dishes,” Don said with a tremble like he wasn’t sure his boss would believe him.

Brigit pulled on a bookshelf, revealing several TVs and a state-of-the-art security system. She tapped the rewind button, and we watched as a porcelain skin woman with long black hair finished her meal. The customer left a cash tip and walked away. Shortly after she was out of frame, a purple, glowing crack sprouted on the table and sucked away all of the dishes as Don described. The crack closed, leaving no trace. Brigit returned the camera feed to the present time.

“Is this part of your inspiration for me?” I inquired.

“No, this is something else,” Brigit replied, and I believed her.

“Look!” Don shouted, pointing at the screen. “The crack is back.”

The crack reappeared, but this time a red left plant crawled out of the portal. The crack disappeared while the plant remained. I thought the plant looked like a cross between a dog and a Venus flytrap. I wasn’t too keen on petting this creature.

“What is that?” Don asked, fascinated and disgusted.

“That’s a Lunar Iamx,” Brigit spoke with a slow dread. “They’re a sentient plant species from another planet, which means they’ll be here soon.”

“Who will be here?” I asked.

On the TV showing the entrance, a team of three people in white and yellow uniforms stepped inside. Their uniforms didn’t look like they belonged to any organization I knew, but Brigit waved her finger at the screen as if she knew.

“That was too fast,” Brigit said. “They must’ve already been in the area. Don, grab the plant and do whatever they tell you to do. Samantha, come with me.”

Don did as Brigit told him while I jogged behind Brigit. Even though the people who just entered were dressed in bright, easily identifiable uniforms, Brigit ushered me away as if they belonged to some sort of top-secret Men In Black government agency. She stopped when we got to a free-standing golden door in the back hallway with the bathrooms.

“I can’t have them erasing your memory too,” Brigit said as she opened the door. “Not after all the work I went through to inspire you. Go write your book!”

Before I could respond, she shoved me through. I stumbled into my apartment. The door slammed shut. I turned around, not seeing the door I came through. I collapsed on my computer chair, trying to process everything that happened to me this morning.

Was any of this real? I thought.

Then I saw the winged letter I left on my desk.

The Winged Letter was inspired by the following writing prompt: “Head splitting and unable to recall the night before, Samantha awoke to something unusual. Somehow, a paper airplane drifted through the open window of her New York apartment on the 15th floor. It gently landed on her bed. Written on the wings in red capital letters were the words ‘open me.'”

A few universe notes. This is the second story to feature the end-timer, Brigit. Brigit’s first appearance was in A Question for the Writers. The ghostly figure in the subway was Brigit’s sibling, Slayer, and the haunted house was a project by Modva, which will be seen again in another story. The woman who was sitting at the table where the purple crack appeared is the main character in my book, Intertwined by Cracks. The three people seen entering the coffee shop were the same ones from my last short story, Key-Changed. Lots of connections in this story, but written so one wouldn’t have to know all of this while still enjoying the story as Samantha didn’t know this either.

I had different second half for The Winged Letter where Samantha didn’t experience anything weird along the way to the coffee shop, but there was a fun bit of conversation she had with the barista that got cut. I do believe in cryogenically freezing my darlings, so I saved that chat and may use it for another story.

I would like to thank Mikey Marchan for bringing the cover art scene to life.

By the way, I have a store where you can buy t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and more featuring characters and art from my fictional universe. Check it out and you can also support me via Patreon too.

Thank you for reading and happy adventures!