Wandering through the field,  it feels like something’s watching me. And not in an admiring way either. We’re being stalked, and that became pretty apparent the moment we found a 60-foot sword in the middle of a field..   “Wait a second, what?!” Jack shouts, clutching his head as we all stared up at the sword in wonder. Who in the world wielded _that?! _Do we have to speak to giants now or something?” Delly observes the sword from all angles, even running her hand down the jagged edge of the blade, which Evie protests against.  “This thing must be at least thousands of years old. I think this person must have won the war in this area. But…where is its owner?” This question instantly prompts us to start looking around for them, which is pointless on top of a hill in an open field; we would’ve seen them by now. I doubt I’m going to be returning to {realm name} anytime soon. But I have to keep reminding myself that that’s not the reason {wielder-name} isn’t coming. I’m not going back. “So, do you think we’re searching in the wrong places?” I ask the others before they could suggest anything.  Jewels shrugs, staring up at the sword. “There’s a sword here. There should be a person. And I don’t think we’re supposed to be doing any traveling today. It’s not like anything’s glowing again or anything.” Good. Hopefully it’ll stay that way. Suddenly, my sister’s voice echoes from the other side of the hill. “Uh.. guys? I think we might have to take a little trip after all.” “What? Why?” I ask a bit harsher than I mean to, rushing down to the bottom of the hill, the others right behind me.  “What makes you think….”  My sentence trails off once I catch a glimpse of what Evie spotted.  Over a thousand swords lined up in neat rows, at least twice as big as the one we found earlier. We’re in the middle of a war.

I keep my face blank as the army’s general paces back and forth, his boots echoing in the cold stone hall.

If he catches me, I’m dead.

If I show any emotion, I’m dead. __ __ Don’t think. Don’t think.

“It seems we have a problem, soldiers,” the general says, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you want to know what that problem is?” __ __ Don’t think. Don’t think.

The general stops in front of us, his eyes lingering on me for just a moment too long. My dark hair falls over my brow, but I don’t bother brushing it aside. I need to look like everyone else.

But I feel his gaze like a brand.

“I’m sure you all know the story,” he continues. “That the royal family is the only group allowed to practice magic.”

I hold his stare, silent. It’s getting closer now, the pressure building.

“But once or twice a decade, anomalies happen,” he says, his words turning to ice. “People—at random—are ‘blessed’ with magic from the stars. And do you know what happens to these blessed individuals?” He shoots a pointed look in my direction, demanding an answer.

I swallow, the words coming out rough but steady. “They are killed.”

The general’s smile flickers, just a hint of satisfaction. “Yes. And as you all know, we’ve been hunting for one of these anomalies—someone hiding among you.”

I tense, my pulse quickening. He knows.

Someone shifts behind me, but I don’t dare look. The air feels thick now, as if every breath carries danger.

“Someone’s been feeding information to the rebels,” the general says, his voice cutting through the silence. “Someone here has magic. And I’m going to find them.”

I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. The room feels too small. I feel my magic stir inside, but I clamp it down. I can’t give him anything.

“You seem too calm,” the general says, his eyes narrowing on me. “Don’t you have something to say?”

I hold his gaze. “I’m not the one you're looking for, General.”

His smile sharpens, the look in his eyes calculating. “Funny. I thought the same thing.”

He steps closer, his presence heavy in the air. “You think I don’t know a thing or two about how a liar moves?” His voice drops, quiet but lethal. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?”

“I’ve been doing my duty,” I reply, my voice steady, even though my heart pounds in my chest.

The general watches me for a beat, then steps back, his lips curling into a thin smile. “One of you is the traitor,” he says. “And I’ll find out who. Until then… keep your eyes open. If I find anything suspicious, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

I don’t speak. I don’t move.

When he leaves, the tension in the room doesn’t lift. He knows. Regret gnaws at me. I shouldn’t have signed up for this. But now, there’s no way out.

Mid-morning sunshine broke through the blinds and woke me from a halfway decent sleep. I'd slept in later than normal. My one day off this week had been bookmarked for sleeping and rotting. It was glorious. A couple of errands to run at my own leisure with plenty of time for coffee breaks in between. It's the small things in life. My phone was on the charger so I roll over to grab it and see if I had gotten lucky enough that the world had dissolved itself while I was asleep. Alas, no such luck. There are a couple of missed calls (spam likely) and several text messages. My friends had obviously been awake much longer and had polluted my phone with every video they had come across. The modern love language of videos and memes. I feel so cherished. My bladder is demanding that I leave my nest and pretend to be a rational adult. I turn the furnace up from my phone (thank you, modern living!) and make a dash for the bathroom. I'm just getting in the shower when the phone chirps again. I give half a thought to ignoring it but grab it while the water is warming up. Eli: are you awake yet? I debate ignoring it again. Me: just barely Three dots keep appearing and disappearing. Yup, shoulda ignored it. I get in the shower while Eli tries to get his words to work. Whatever he's wrestling with will take a minute. Or 20. However long I decide this shower needs to be. The hot water is just the thing I needed. I'm debating whether to just live in the shower when the water starts cooling. I've so far decided that I need to start eating better, start playing bass as my new hobby, and that the bathroom needs remodeled. Very productive planning time. I'll definitely follow through this time. The phone screen is fogged up but I can see the light flashing in the corner for a new notification. Eli must've learned how to use his words. Eli: I need a favor. Just a little one. I know it's your day off. Either that's an apology or his way of telling me he knows I've got nothing else going on and no excuse to fall back on. Either way, it's not a small favor. Me: I have plans. they involve coffee, a couch, and a tv. Eli: It's a quick one. Coffee will be on me. I put the phone down and let him work out some more words while I find sweats to put on. If Eli really wants something done, he's going to have to put in the work of actually asking. Too many times, I've been roped into some BS idea or another at his insistence that it's "not a big deal". Eli: you'll need boots and gloves Me: like hell I will. what are you trying to do? it's all of 30 degrees outside Eli: work stuff. I need help with a pick up job. Me: and you're paying in coffee? I suppose I can volunteer my services. I hate that Eli and I are in the same line of work. Thank fates not as competitors. Different clients and specialties. But close enough that professional courtesy is expected. Me: I'm not using my truck. You're chauffeuring. Eli: My truck is empty. and clean. it'd be an upgrade for you. I snort. Not a chance. But if I'm on the hook now to help out, I'm riding shotgun and playing passenger from hell. Me: what time? I'm not changing out of my sweats. No way I'm getting dolled up for you. Eli: wouldn't expect anything less than your best. Give me 30 minutes. That give you enough time to put on your makeup? I toss the phone on the bed and try to track down my boots. This should be a fashion statement.

Eli pulls up the drive and blasts the horn. Of course he does. As if I didn't hear the driveway alarms, exhaust, and his shitty music from the main road. "I'm not listening to that garbage," I gripe as I climb in. The seats are heated, at least, and I can feel my muscles relax. I should probably shop around for newer trucks but prices have gotten a bit ridiculous. Inflation is a bitch. "You're a whole lot uglier and hairier and grumpier than my usual passenger princesses. I think I've been catfished," Eli grumbles as he turns the music down. "Oh, I'm just getting started. Wait until you have to get my Starbies order right. And I'm expecting a five-star lunch for this." I'm fiddling with the radio and heat vents. It really is barely tolerable outside and not the kind of weather I had been planning on spending much time in. "My usual stop is the place on Main and Locust. They have the best baristas in town." Eli rolls his eyes and pulls the truck back onto the road. "The pickup is in the opposite direction. Isn't there a coffee place somewhere east?" I looked at him. "No," I deadpan. "If you're calling in favors, you're the one on the hook. You coulda called someone else but I'm guessing you need the extra oomph to get this thing in the truck. And back out of it." He grunts again and heads west towards Main St. Guess that answers my question. He'd normally call me on my petty bullshit and give me more grief for it. Dammit. That means I'm actually going to have to work. On my day off. I toy with whether the friendship is worth saving or not. And decide it probably is. Making friends as an adult is hopeless. Can't throw 30 years down the drain over one lost day off. Eli has been around since we were boys terrorizing the hillsides and hollers. I'll keep him around a while yet.

Coffee in hand and music changed to something much more appealing, he has the truck blasting down a gravel road doing Mach20 with the confidence of a toddler that can "do it himself". It's awe-inspiring and terrifying. I check my seatbelt again and get an annoyed eyeroll from him. "I'm not going to wreck the truck. I just got it paid off. I'd rather keep this one for a bit." He checks the upcoming road sign and swings right. "Pretty sure that was a stop sign," I comment. "Do you see any cars at all? Pretty sure the intersection was clear. This whole end of the county is abandoned." We finally come up on a big house tucked into the hillside. I whistle. "That's a helluva house to be hiding out here. And gotta be new cause I don't remember ever seeing it out here growing up." Eli backs the truck right up to the garage. "The pickup is upstairs. It's a big bastard. the first time I tried, I pulled my damn shoulder. That's why you're here. All that protein powder and steroids are about to pay off." I glare over the console, "I don't take steroids. I've worked hard to look like this. Dedication and discipline. Two words you know nothing about." He blinks at me, "Let's see if those cultivated muscles are actually functional then, shall we?" "Have I ever called in a favor from you to help me lift anything?" I ask blandly. His answer is to get out of the truck and walk around the back of the house. Hopefully he's opening the garage door. I'll give him a couple minutes. No need for both of us to freeze when he can do this part on his own just fine. The garage door begins rolling up and I climb out of the truck and stroll into a very tidy, very white garage. Traditional BMW sitting on one side and an empty space on the other. "Where's the other car?" "Airport. Out of the way. Homework has all been done. Boxes are checked and it's a pretty standard routine. I just got hung up on the sheer weight. Or I'm actually getting old." Eli opens the door into the house and gestures inside. I slide my gloves on and turn to him, "Do I need to mask up?" "No. It's all dealt with. Inside job this one. Pretty textbook really. Just heavy." He leads the way through the kitchen and upstairs. One hall door is open and he heads for it. I sigh and prepare myself for whatever shitshow I'm getting into. "I really can't believe you got me out of the house for this." The pick-up does actually look pretty neatly wrapped and ready. Wonders really never cease. Eli gestures to the package on the floor, "Told you. Heavy." The body on the floor has to be tipping in over 350 and heading for 400. I'm not sure how he ever got him prepped for transport. The cleanup and wrap job really are top notch. Eli at his finest. But this guy is flabby with a capital F. The kind that comes from a lifestyle that also bought this house and what I'm betting is the trophy wife that found Eli. Heavy. Eli warned me. "Allright, let's get this show on the road then. You still owe me lunch after this." I stooped to test lift the shoulders. "If I can get the shoulders and you take the legs I think I can handle the top heading down the stairs first." The weirdest parts of this job sometimes are the logistics. "Do you think we can do it without breaking the wrap? He's pretty snug but I'd hate to have to redo the nastier bits of cleanup through the whole house. Contractor is trying to keep the house mostly intact." Eli inspects his wrap job again for weak spots. "No problem. That's what I'm here for." It would, in fact, be a problem. I'm going to be kicking myself for ever putting it out into the ether.

A couple of minutes later, I'm hoisting the stiff up a bit to even the load somewhat between my downhill position and Eli making his way slowly down the steps after me. I've reconsidered and decided the guy is closer to 400. And wasn't carrying it well. Pathway to diabetes and chronic joint issues if Eli hadn't solved that problem for him. We make it to the bottom of the steps and I breathe a sigh of relief. The vision of the poor sap rolling down the stairs and taking me with him had been replaying in my head a couple of times. It didn't end well for me in any of the versions. We set down to give Eli's shoulder a break. The pained look on his face was nearly enough to make me feel bad for him. Then again maybe not. He's made enough on this job to cover his chiropractor bill, I'm sure. He sits on the stair. "I owe you for this one. I'm not sure I know another meathead within range to help me tackle this one. All the scouting and pictures, I knew he was big. Nothing I haven't done before. I must've really done something strange to cause the shoulder issue." I frown at him. "You know, if you hit a gym once in a while, you might be in better shape to do these jobs. Then you wouldn't need the meathead. Or figure out how to create a pick-up dolly to strap them too. Patent it and make your fortune on easy-stow body moving tools." I grin and perk up at the thought. "And give me royalties for the idea." Eli groans and gets back to his feet. "Not sure there would be much demand. That's a very niche market that may be hard to break into with that advertising plan." He gestures back to the wrapped pick-up job. "Let's get this over with." I stoop and lift my end and ease my way back towards the kitchen. Thankfully an open concept with a straight shot to the garage. Then the steps down and to the back of the truck. It seems to happen in slow motion. I see Eli open his mouth to say something and my back foot comes "down" on open air. There's no floor. Those visions of rolling with the wrapped body come to mind again for half a second. And then they're coming true. My hands let go out of reflex to catch myself. Eli loses his grip. There were steps into the kitchen. Rookie mistake. And I'm going to pay for it. I land hard on my back, thankfully keeping my head from cracking on the tile but the air is knocked out of me. The body is coming next. It lands half on me taking the rest of my breath and half on the floor with a sickening slap. Eli is standing at the top of the small three step flight with a shocked look on his face. He jumps down to push the guy off me. With that done, I try to suck in a breath. "Did you really just miss the step???" Eli is asking. I'm staring at the ceiling gasping like a fish wondering at what point my day took this turn for the worse. My ankle is throbbing like someone took a hammer to it. My back feels like an over-tightened guitar string. My head feels clear and my arms seem intact. I take a deep breath and feel a pinch along the side. A big pinch. "I think that bastard cracked a rib," I hiss. Eli looks over at his pick-up. "Shit, he's leaking into the wrapping. We either have to move him now or rewrap him before he busts a seam somewhere." I groan again. He looks me over, "Can you move or did you actually break something?" "I think I broke a couple things but let's get this done. I'm not hauling my ass back out here again." I push up and grimace. "And I sure as hell didn't volunteer to do a cleanup job." I roll and feel the pinch in my side get worse. At least cracked. He scrambles to his feet and rolls the package over checking for splits or leaks. He seems satisfied enough and rolls it back onto its back. "We should probably carry him. That wrap isn't going to hold up through a fall and being drug across the floor. Can you do it?" I'm still laying on the floor dazed. Job's gotta get done though. I've always came through for Eli and he's always came through for me. I can't believe I fell down the steps. What kind of karmic justice was that? Had I offended the cosmos lately? "I can do it. Let's just make it quick before the swelling sets in. Where is this dude going? Is the unload going to be this bad?" I'm at least on my hands and knees working my way to my feet. "Unload is easy. Roll off and done. The rest is already taken care of on that end. We're just the delivery service today." Eli grabs my hand and pulls me up. "You leave any body fluids? I've got wipes in the truck. I'll come in and do a quick wipe down once he's in." We hoist the pick-up again. My ankle and side are now screaming in tandem. I'll have hell to pay for this. But it's only 40 more feet and then home free. I've never been so glad that Eli never had that truck lifted. I wouldn't have been able to heave the guy up any further. The garage steps go much smoother. And slower. We have to swing the guy a bit to get him rolled into the bed of the truck. Not graceful and I'm sure not dignified. Poor guy is probably watching us abuse his corpse and figuring out who he wants to haunt more. Hopefully it's Eli. I'm just the unwitting help on this one. I climb back into the truck slowly and carefully. Every breath has a bit of burn. My ankle now has it's own heartbeat. Eli's heated seats are doing their best to sooth my back. I'm never answering another text message on a day off. In fact, I may just start silencing my phone and leaving it in a drawer. Eli climbs in and tosses the wipes into the back seat. A glance in the mirror shows the garage door is shut. The truck lurches down the driveway as he stares straight ahead and begins navigating the gravel roads to make it back to civilization. "So, are we doing lunch at the hospital?" "No, nothing they can do for cracked ribs that I can't do myself. And I'll let the ankle go a couple of days and see what it does. You know, this is really going to set back my gym routine. I may need someone to prepare meals and help me shower even." "You were nearly crushed by a pick-up job. I'm not sure how you're going to justify what happened when it was clearly caused by your own negligence. I'm not at fault for your inability to watch where your big feet are going." He snorts, "And I want nothing to do with your shower. You can find some poor woman with daddy issues to help soothe your wounded pride. Though finding one that can cook too might be a reach." I settle back in the seat and check my seat belt again. He's only driving Mach10 this time. Poor guy in the back is having a rough day today. I look down at my sweats and hoodie. No signs of blood or mud. Coulda been worse I suppose. Eli's good for it. He'll have my back next time no questions asked. "Let's go to that Italian place down on 7th. The breadsticks there are better and the sauce isn't as sour as the one on Sycamore. I don't care how much you like the waitress, I can't stand that sour sauce of theirs. It tastes rancid. You're going to pay for my to-go order for later, too. Then we can do drop-off." He nods like he knew what the demands were going to be and for once doesn't even argue with me over which Italian place. Makes falling down the steps and being crushed by a body almost worth it. I flex my ankle a bit. Then again maybe not. I'm going to regret volunteering for this job for weeks to come.

A throbbing bass line pounded the walls of Flesh. The strip club was dim except for a few ornate chandeliers. Cheap seats in the center and VIP banquets on the perimeter, each patron’s face glowed red orange in the faux candlelight. Back stage was dressing rooms and assorted play areas. Flesh, a members-only private club, had only human staff and a select Android clientele. In a dark corner one of the select members, Liberty English, lounged on the velvet cushions, long legs splayed and a naked woman curled against him in each arm.

Cinnamon, one of English’s favorite dancers, was doing a sultry fan dance. He knew Cinnamon was a natural ginger with 81 freckles and an accommodating personality. Between the feathers Cinnamon tossed English a wicked wink. Bobbing to the music, the attorney smiled broadly. Tootsie the woman on his right kissed his neck while Lolly on his left walked her fingers down his thigh.

Tossing his sparkly banana hammock into the cheering crowd, Cinnamon gyrated provocatively leading up to his full split finale. English grimaced with delight as Tootsie nipped his ear. Suddenly, a shadow fell across his table. Luscious grey curves crammed into a skintight black leather mini dress, an Android blocked the stage. Legs akimbo and arms loose at her sides, the stranger rolled her shoulders and stared down at English’s night’s entertainment.

“Leave,” she said flatly.

Immediately the women looked at one another, stood up, and left the table. Primly, the Android sat down beside him. English laughed out loud.

“Well don’t you look good enough to eat. Thank you for accepting my invitation to meet here,” English said resting his hand on her knee possessively. “I’m glad we ran into each other at the art museum. I didn’t recognize you in that little docent outfit.”

“Well I believe in the importance of service, Mr. English. Art is so enriching, is it not? So enriching and so expensive,”

Looking around anxiously English’s guest wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Cinnamon’s performance was over in a thunder of clapping. Violins pierced the applause as a classical version of “I Want to Paint It Black,” roared from the speakers. In stilettos and a g-string, Peaches slid down the pole that telescoped up from the floor.

“Please call me Libby. So Sugar at the exhibit you said you had a legal inquiry?”

She leaned back into the embrace of velvet. Whirling the dancer on the stage slithered up and down. The red orange light painted the dancer’s brown skin. English’s guest tilted her head transfixed.

“Yes, thank you for your willingness to see me in your off-hours, Mr. English, I mean Libby. I have an opportunity to buy a lovely new townhouse, and say 10,000 credits would help with odds and ends. See here,” she said tapping her IDentibracelet.

“Excellent investment. I encourage home ownership. Are you taking on extra work to cover expenses?” English said, without looking down at her bracelet and instead appraising her profile.

“Funny you should ask. Working as a secretary at EPD is rewarding but I’ve taking up storytelling to help with overhead. For example, I’m working on a mystery about a pigeon who plans to fly away with her little chick this Thursday. She’s going into hiding and leaving police protection so no one can find them. Then she will return to sing for the trial,” she said.

“Fascinating story, Ms. Greystone,” English said as sent 10,000 credits to his guest’s account with a wave of his fingers. “But why would she leave police protection?”

Peaches was covered in a shine of sweat and body glitter. The dancer’s ankles caressed the metal pole as her back arched in the flashing lights. Conspiratorially, the two Androids leaned towards each other. The crowd applauded as Peaches spun.

“Can you believe it in my story there’s a mole in the police department? That canary is afraid. Of course in my story she just gets paid off to not come to court. I wouldn’t want to have my name tied to any unpleasantness.”

“Of course, Ms. Greystone. I’m a lawyer not a gangster. We are not like the meatbags I represent. I’d never cotton to blood on my hands. I’m just looking for stories well told and I’m open to supporting a struggling writer.”

“Libby, call me Daphne,” Daphne said and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Elias Marlowe had always been the type to say yes. To lend a hand. To step forward when others shrank back. It wasn’t courage exactly—more a compulsive need to prove himself useful, valuable even. So when the town council called for volunteers for an unnamed “special project,” Elias’s hand shot up before his brain could catch up.

He regretted it the moment he saw the box.

It sat in the center of the council hall, a massive, ironbound chest that seemed too ancient to belong in the sleepy, coastal town of Wrenford. Its surface was covered in strange carvings, symbols that twisted and shifted if Elias looked at them for too long. The councilman who’d introduced the project refused to meet his eye. “It’s just a simple task,” he’d said, his voice tight. “The chest needs to be carried up to the summit of Mount Verin. No questions. No peeking inside.”

Simple. Right. Elias had thought the job might involve fixing up the crumbling docks or cleaning the town square after the spring festival. Not this.

But backing out wasn’t an option. The entire town had seen him volunteer, and Wrenford was the kind of place where people talked. He couldn’t bear the whispers about how Elias Marlowe was all bluster and no follow-through.

And so, two days later, he found himself trudging up the winding path to Mount Verin, the cursed box strapped to his back.

It was heavier than it should have been, and it felt wrong. The straps dug into his shoulders, but worse than the physical strain was the eerie hum that seemed to emanate from the chest. Sometimes, it felt like the carvings on its surface were pressing into his skin through the thick leather. Once, he swore he heard a whisper coming from within, soft and sibilant, like wind through dead leaves.

“Just a little further,” he muttered to himself, though no one was around to hear. The summit was still hours away, and with every step, his doubts grew louder.

Why had the council chosen him? Why couldn’t they say what was inside the box? Why did the mayor—always so chatty—avoid his gaze when he set out?

By the time Elias reached the summit, his legs were trembling, and his mind was a storm of suspicion. He should just leave the box and go. But some nagging part of him needed answers. He knelt beside the chest, his hands trembling as they hovered over the lid.

“No peeking,” they’d said.

He hesitated. And then, slowly, he lifted the latch.

What he saw inside wasn’t gold or relics or anything tangible at all. It was… darkness. A living, breathing void that seemed to reach out and pull at the edges of his mind. He felt it twist inside him, a cold and hungry presence that whispered promises he couldn’t quite understand but couldn’t refuse.

Elias slammed the lid shut and stumbled back, gasping. But it was too late. The whisper had followed him. It was inside him now, coiled in the corners of his thoughts.

By the time he made it back to Wrenford, Elias wasn’t the same. The cheerful volunteer who had wanted so badly to prove himself was gone, replaced by someone—or something—else. The people avoided him now, their whispers filled with fear instead of admiration.

He’d regret that raised hand for the rest of his days, however many of those remained.

“Volunteer Hours?..” Dianne read off of the corkboard.

Emelia groaned. “Of course we have to do this. Why did you even make me sign up for Honors Society?”

Diann huffed angrily, looking back from the corkboard. “They get a free trip to Cedar Point at the end of the year..”

Emelia leaned over Diann’s shoulder intriguingly. “Oh. Yeah..” She sighed. Emelias blonde hair intertwined with Diann’s brunette hair.

“Oh! Theres a birthday party at this place. Um, its a girl, 6 years old, turning 7. Her names Charlotte Ponce. Its a Disney Princess themed birthday parties. Its two hours of volunteer work.” Diann reads, using her index finger to point on the words.

“How hard can it be? A little girls birthday party.. they can’t be that crazy.” Emelia leaned off of Diann, stretching her back.

Diann looks away from the corkboard. “Lets run this through Ms. Susan.” Diann begins walking, and Emelia follows after.

“Hi!” An older woman appears at the door. “You two must be um..” She looks at a tiny paper, pulling off her dark red glasses. “Emelia Love and Diann Jimenez?” The woman reads slowly. They nod in sync. “Of course- come right in!”

The old woman leads them inside, the enterance surrounded by pink, blue, and gold balloons that hit the ceiling. She takes them outside, into a huge backyard.

Emelia lets out an audible gasp.

Theres at least 7 tables set up outside, all having elegant white table cloths that drape over the sides. Theres princess balloons and flowers at each table. Not to mention, the birthday girls table has an enormous chair thats pink at the front.

Suddenly, a rush of screams and squeals come from behind them, and a bunch of young children in dresses come running out. Some are pushing and shoving Emelia and Diann, others are pushing each other.

“Oh my gods!” Diann gasps. They quickly both move out of the way, making room for the abundance of children running.

The kids all immediately sit at tables, as if they’re trained to know what to do. The old woman sighs heavily. “Can you go to the birthday table?” She asks.

“Okay..” Emelia grabs Diann’s hand, leading her toward the table. “Where do we sit..” She scrunches ber face. The elegant, huge birthday chair is decorated with pink plastic, white tissue paper, and a princess cap on top.

A young little girl, whom they assume was Charlotte, bounced over to the chair excitedly. She had brown, curly hair to her collarbone. Her short was a warm yellow, nearly matching the beating sun.

The old woman stands by the birthday table, clapping her hands together. “Settle down! Settle down!” She yells. Diann flinches at her yell, hitting her hip on the table.

“Ow!!” Diann clenches her hip, but nobody beside Emelia notices. “You good??” Emelia looks Diann up and down, and she nods sporadically.

A significantly less old woman comes outside. She has on a blue plaid apron with painters jeans and a white shirt. Horrible choice, because her entire shirt is covered with different colors.

The young woman is carrying a cake, which has pink and white frosting on it. Theres writing on the top, reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHAR-CHAR!” in bright and bold letters. Next to that is a picture of the Disney Princess Aurora, staring at nothing.

Another younger woman follows behind, carrying what looks like colorful candles in a box. The other woman places down the cake, and the girl starts frantically pulling out candles. She places down two red, one purple, three blue, and one green.

“Okay everyone!” The woman wearing the apron shouts, cupping her hands around the rims of her mouth. “We’re going to sing happy birthday to my little Char!” Her lips coil into a grin, the smile lines faded, yet visible.

The other young woman pulls out a red lighter pulls out a lighter from her pocket. She clicks it a few times, finally getting it to light.

“Okay! On the count of three. One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you!.. Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Charlotte! Happy birthday to you!” The kids squealed. Charlotte sat with her arms crossed, an evil smile plastered onto her face.

Emelia looked over to Diann. “Make a wish, Char!!” The mom grabbed Charlottes shoulders, forcing her in front of the cake. Charlotte closed her eyes, mumbling something under her breath.

She blows out the candles, causing the crowd of children to erupt with yells, screams, and squeaks. Emelia covered her ears, her face contorted. Diann physically retracted, clearly bothered by the screaming of these children.

The next hour was pure torture, and all they could do was stand in the corner, occasionally telling the unobedient children to stop yelling so loud.

Finally, all the kids had been settled down, as the parents brought out pink paper plates with sparkles and balloons on them.

“I hate to ask, but can you pass out the cake?” The aproned mom asked the duo, cutting pieces and putting them on plates.

Diann and Emelia looked at each other. “Sure..” Diann fake smiled, grabbing two played with her hands. Emelia does the same hesitantly.

They both walk to a table, the kids little hands grabbing and grasping the edge of the plates, trying to get their cake. “Oh my gosh!” Diann yelped as a kid yanked the plate from her, immediately devouring their cake with a plastic fork.

After painfully passing out the cake, they came back to the birthday table after being assaulted by children. Emelia put up her blonde hair with a purple scrunchie, groaning in pain as she pulled her hair.

Diann pulled the back of her shirt, the sweat sticking strong. “I want to go home..” Emelia sighs. “Me too.”

Sooner or later, it was the end of the birthday party. The young children were getting picked up by their parents, many of them having remnants of frosting around their mouths.

Diann and Emelia were still standing in the backyard, helping the parents clean up the horrific mess the kids had left behind. Plates left on the tables, silly string everywhere, not to mention the amount of confetti.

“Thank you girls so much for helping out!” The older woman warmly smiled, her wrinkles deepening.

Emelia, standing with her ponytail almost half out, chuckled. “It was no problem. Really.” Diann nodded in agreement, but they both knew that wasn’t true.

“You girls can go home now, we have the rest of the cleaning good to go.” The young woman with no apron gestured to the open wooden fence. “Okay, thank you. Goodbye!..” Diann waved, grabbing Emelias wrist.

Once they made it out of the area of the house, Emelia covered her face with her hands, sinking then down her face, exposing the red part of her eyelid. “That was torture. I hate little children.”

Diann slightly smiled, giggling. “Never again. Never again..”

Hello sir, my name is Fred and thank you for allowing me to help out on your project. I like doing volunteer work for our military veterans that have served our country. What is it that you would like me to help you with? Come inside Fred, I’m Jim and this is my wife Sandra. Hello Sandra, let’s go into the bathroom. I need the water lines run to my new vanity and the surround needs to be installed around the bathtub okey. I’ll get started right away. This is my mom Linda, hello Linda nice to meet you. If there’s anything I can do to help I’ll be right here ok thank you. I quickly removed the vanity so I could fix the plumbing and than stated framing in around the bathtub so I could install the Sheetrock. As soon as I got started I noticed Jim, arguing with his mom because I had demoed everything. He was acting very foolish at that point i knew that he didn’t trust me nor my experience. I heard him say there is no way he can put everything back in one day. Instead of trying to help me, he was raising cane. That I point I was starting to question myself why i even volunteered to help this person if he didn’t trust me. Eventually his mother came into the restroom and asked me, if I would be able to move the plumbing install the vanity back and finish the tub liner today ? Yes mam! I will finish before I leave here today it will be functioning. I noticed her son acting up, his mom also noticed. What is wrong with you son? Why is he acting this way? Let me go talk to him, okay. She returned after a few minutes.

His dad told him that it would take you several weeks to do all this work.

He is worried that you tore out more than you can handle in one day. Is his father a contractor? No ! he fixes air conditioners. Well than i know my job and I don’t know his. I know what I can do in one day alone, so please tell him to relax I got this. Thank you Fred, i watched her go over and talk to her son and he went off on her. I was getting very upset over the way he was acting. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to prove him wrong and that his dad knew nothing about what I was about to do for them. Instead of helping me he raised hell the whole day. The day was about over and I had the plumbing complete and the vanity installed the wall around the tub was framed in. Sheetrock hung taped, floated and skimmed, and the surround installed. Not to mention I had hung Sheetrock around the vanity there was an area that I decided to not repair only because he had no confidence in me. I decided to leave it and let him get mad. I explained to his mom that because he was acting like he was I decided to let him get madder, she laughed. Well he deserves it you were nice enough to drive over two hour and accomplished all this work and he doesn’t appreciate it, let him worry about it. I had finished picking up all my tools and when he went into the bathroom and seen how I left a piece of Sheetrock sticking out he went bazaar. I couldn’t help but laugh, because I knew it was a 30 minute fix. He was hollaring and raising cane. Sandra, I can fix that in no time but because of the way he is acting. He has disrespected and treated you badly, I decided to let him jump up and down and hollar. I have already done everything he said couldn’t be done because his dad said so. I’ll be back in a few days just to show him that i could of fixed it while I was here, I don’t mind helping people out. he didn’t trust me from the very start why did he call on me anyway Well Fred, i called you for them. My friend Casey, told me how nice and great work you did for them. It took him and his dad over two weeks to in stall the tub and still wasn’t functioning. I don’t understand i have never seen him act this way. If you never come back I certainly don’t blame you. I laughed Sandra, I normally just volunteer one day to any veteran and his family. To thank them for their services. In this case I’m going to leave and come back another day just to show him I’m not a fly by night and when I’m done in less than an hour for something he believes is not repairable. He will eat crow.

  Sandra , I’ll be back in three days. I know it’s over a 2 hour drive, but it will be worth it to me. I can complete this project in 30 minutes or less. 

    If I were you I would not even come back, I can’t believe instead of helping you he acted like a jerk. It’s ok I just have to let him stress for a few days. Sandra, replies your bad, than she gave me her phone number and when I decided to return,  I called and told her I was on my way. She agreed to meet me there. Several hours later I arrived said hello to Sandra and went straight to work I cut the drywall and taped and floated, skimmed with 5 minute easy sand, sanded and walked out. Sandra laughed you showed him, he was mad the whole time saying it could not be repaired. Well they can paint it now I’m done with my part. To be honest if I have one more client act the way he did towards me after I have worked all day for free I will retire and not help. I will scout out my surroundings the next volunteer job before I get started. Sandra, replied back, not everyone are ungrateful as my son. He now knows his dad knew nothing about renovations. I laughed and said, I don’t know air conditioning. She thanked me and we decided to continue being friends. We said goodbye and we parted ways.

On my way home I thought about what Sandra, had said I grinned and said to myself ya she is so right. Not everyone are this ungrateful. 

I have heard many times, because of one bad apple, it ruins it for the rest of the people. I will continue on helping, because if have helped one family that needed my free service for one day. It would be a great experience and challenge just to see there smile. Not a thank you, a smile says it all. A drive to remind me, why I enjoy helping military veterans.

                                               Written By:
                                               Ghostriter 
                                                 12-1-2024

Oh no Not again Why do I always say yes I guess It’s because I have good intentions Not to mention I never want To Let anyone Down

Ten stuffed another donut into his mouth. "No, I just think its a job for someone-"

"Okay. stop." Iris held up a hand to shield herself from the powered-sugar-spray, face twisted in disgust. "She made her choice."

"Yeah! I made my choice" Masha parrots. She twirls, skirt spinning like a small whirlpool. "Besides, it's not like I'll get caught."

"That's what they all say." Ten smirks and takes another bite.

Maybe Ten was right.

The huge figure of Idol Company loomed in front of Masha. The center of all Idol communications, tech production, and espionage.

Masha squared her shoulders, clutching her jeans jacket closer around her shoulders, and went inside. The foyer hit her with a burst of warmth and noise. The tiles shone like marble (Oh crap, were they? Masha wiped her feet in case). Idols in shiny gem-like costumes glittered and flitted, talking to reporters and tittering at stunned civilians.

She was really in the thick now. Masha ducked down and made a b-line toward the bright gold desk. The lady smiled kindly and nodded over her bronze half-moon glasses. "What do you need, dear?"

Masha tried to comb her curly black hair frantically with one hand and clutched her purse with the other. "Ahhh, I'm here for the interview? I'm applying to be a-"

"Entry-level dietician, yes?" Her smile crinkled her face in a grandmotherly fashion. "Elias is very excited about you. Take the elevator to the 39th floor-" She gestiured going up as she spoke "And it's the second office on your right. Can't miss it, he's a bit of a narcissist."

Masha was left wondering what _that _meant as she thanked the woman and stepped into the silver elevator.

"Wait! Hold it!"

Masha flinched back from the button, glancing wildly up before a man barreled into her. She stumbled back, catching herself on one of the bars and looking up to the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"I'm so sorry!" River gasped. River, known for being an osteichthye with water-manipulating abiltities to match. Famous for his pretty face and charming personality. Even more famous for having recently captured Pyre, a fire fiend commonly considered his match. Her trial would be soon.

Masha floundered, starstruck. River helped her up and hit the button for the 47th floor.

They stood there in silence for a minute. River broke it.

"Uhh, what are you in for?" He was more awkward then she had imagined. Masha blushed.

"I'm interviewing for a dietician spot for up-and-comming Idols." As soon as the words left her mouth, Masha wanted to kick herself. It was inappropriate to refer to Idol apprentices as 'Up and comming' or the like, because Idols were constant. They were born the strongest and they would stay the strongest.

Luckily, River didn't notice the slip. In fact, he perked up. "That's sick! We've been needing a new one since Dylan clobbered that old man!" He whipped out his phone, typing something rapid-fire.

Masha paused, then chanced a push: "...Dylan?"

River stopped in his tracks. His face turned to a sheepish look as he rubbed that back of his neck. "I probably wasn't supposed to say that. But, you know, sometimes apprentices get a bit rowdy." He chuckled, "Don't tell anyone I told you?"

Masha nodded and laughed, ignoring her boiling gut. The elevator chimed for her stop, and she nodded bashfully at River as she stepped off.

Then back to interview mode. Deep breaths. It would be fine. It's not like her whole life was riding on this.

The door the lady had indicated was indeed adorned with a golden name tag. Masha knocked, and a wiry old man answered.

It was going to be so fine.

"You're Ms. Patel?" The man strengthened some papers on his desk.

"Yes. It's very nice to meet you, sir." Now sitting, Masha extended a hand over his desk to shake. Elias took it with a firm expression.

"You as well. Honestly, Miss, your qualifications are quite impressive, and your reviews are glowing. Jin himself vouched for you, and I don't take that lightly. You went to Keating Prep for college?"

"That's correct."

"Wonderful. Well, I just have a few housekeeping items then. Do you have an ability?"

Masha's heart sped up. "Ahhhh, you'll see on my forms, sir, I'm a Falling. My grandmother used to be able to get anyone to agree with her, but all I can do is make people dance with me."

"Yes, I see." Elias muttered, squinting at the papers. "And you don't have any Fiend ties?"

"Well- not really." She forced her eyes down to her hands.

"Not really?"

"Not too long ago, my best friend was kidnapped by villians. They're still looking. But I don't think of them positively. Never."

"Perfect." Elias smiled. "We'll get back to you soon."

She was with Pluto and Ori when the news came.

Pluto had been somber since- well. Ten tried, and he seemed to be the only one who could help, but he had his own affairs to attend to. Which left Ori and Masha to cheer him up.

A horrible idea, which was why the acceptance letter had perfect timing.

"I got in!"

Ori wrapped her in a huge hug. Over her shoulder, Masha watched Pluto. He locked eyes with her.

She gazed back impassively. A promise.

Job training for working to be with Idols was laborious. Masha had to be PR prepped, just in case, she had to be fitted for a uniform (all trainers regardless of gender wore the same jumper- black and fancy). She got personalized stationary, an office, a wifi password, elevator keys, etc. Her DNA was put on file- the blood test was a surprise.

And so, a week later, she was finally ready.

Elias started her with small Idols. There were about 120 total in the city, with around 35 taking apprentices at a time. Not all of them were big like River and his apprentice, Fog, or like Juliette and Saturn. She worked pretty well with them.

Masha was told at the begining that not all Idols were kind. Most were self-centered, especially as their fame grew. As Masha got premoted, she figured out just how true that was.

"I don't trust her as far as I can throw her." Fog sniffed, nose in the air. She had been told, after signing several NDAs, that his real name was Dylan and he had scared off her predicessor. He also seemed to be a bit of a brat.

"Be nice." River chided, frowning apologetically at Masha. He had remembered her, apparently, and that had spoken a few times since she started. He seemed desperate to make friends, especially since all the other Major Idols were so much older then him.

"You're araneae, right?" Fog prodded. Masha nodded. "What level do you come from?"

She didn't like where this was going. "Nine."

River whistled while Fog sneered. "Even Idols don't like to patrol down there. They say it's too dark." He turns to River. "Have you been down there?"

"Of course." River laughs. "Pyre was a lower level Fiend. I'm very familiar with everything under 12. It's the new stuff up here I'm struggling with." Struggling, hmmmm. "I should bring you down sometime. Show you where it gets real."

Masha giggle lightly "Make sure to say hi! Now, onto calorie intake, your chart says-"

"Chart?" Fog grimaced. "I haven't been filling out a chart."

"Ah!" Masha glanced at River, unsure. He looked curious. She pushed on. "You don't need to. They track your vitals through your tracking chip."

"Tracking chip?" That was River. He looked disturbed.

"Yes? The one they monitor you through. That's how they know where you are and if anything dangerous is happening."

"I-" River glanced at Fog, who had gone pale. "Didn't know about that."

Shoot. Was she not supposed to tell people?

Whatever. It would get out anyways. Probably nothing. And who could trace it to her?

After the session, River sent Fog on his way so he could talk to her alone.

"Sorry about the tracker thing. I'm not a veteran, even though-"

"Don't worry." Masha smiled, almost unsure.

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed awkwardly. "Hey, this is kind of random, but... you seem really nice, and I was wondering if we could get coffee sometime?"

Masha grinned. "If you can find time in your schedule."

"That's true." He looked thoughtful for a second. "Why not go now?"

There was a small café on every 5th floor of the Idol tower. Often in the middle they were hogged by press and tourists, but higher up it was only Idols and staff.

Masha and River got a table near the back, Masha discreetly sending off a text on her phone while River ordered. Then conversation.

"So, River," She started "What do you do for fun?"

"Uhh, well, to start." He tapped the table and looked her softly in the eye, "You don't need to call me River. Edan is fine."

Masha blushed. "Okay. Edan. What do you do for fun?"

"I like to run." His face opened a little, mouth turning upwards. Masha was hit with a little burst of sadness.

It was too late, though.

"Yeah? Do you have anyone you live with?"

"Just my dog. She's a small puppy." He pulled out his phone to show her. "Wanna see?"

Just as Masha nodded, the alarms went off.

ALERT. ALERT. FIEND SECURITY BREACH. ALERT. ALERT. ALL CIVILIANS EVACUATE. IDOLS TO YOUR STATIONS. ALERT. ALERT.

River pushed back his chair. "Oh my gosh. Uhhhh. I've gotta go."

And he booked it.

Masha sat for a second, looking around. No one was watching.

She ran.

Right to the emergency stairs. They were packed body-to-body, everyone trying to get to the floor near their level and get off. The further down she got, the less people followed, until it was Masha alone hurdling railings.

The prison door would normally be impossible to get through, if Iris hadn't rigorously disabled every inch of code around the building, stripping the wires bare to she could twist it to her liking.

Masha opened the door. Stale air hit her. She turned and ran, layout burned in her mind from the maps she poured over. Left, right. There.

To some, Pyre was the scum of the earth. A Fiend so widely dispised no one remembered what she even did.

But Vee was also Masha's best friend. And Pluto's sister.

She jumped up when Masha ran to her cell and whipped Fog's keycard out of her belt. "That was fast." Vee deadpanned, smiling wide as the door swung open.

Masha shushed her, beconcing to the corner. She passed her backpack full of civilian clothes to Vee.

The other girl changed while Masha kept watch, worrying at her lip. It had all gone off without a hitch, so could something happen now?

Vee tapped her on the shoulder. Masha led the way out, more slowly now, weary eyes scanning the shadows.

When they reached the stairs, a few stragglers were still running out. The girls joined them, sprinting upwards to get out at level 9.

When the smoggy, gasoline-scented air hit them, Masha let out a breath of relief. "Holy crap, remind me to never volunteer for this again."

God I wish I hadn’t volunteered to be the person to break so many hearts. I volunteered to early and now it’s too damn late to back out. Chrysanthemum, my darling is one I’m terrified to hurt now. I’m afraid to tell her how I feel, for fear I may tear her heart out as I continue to fall. Too many have told me to confess. To confess would be to give myself up and how am I to do that and stay just as independent? I can’t imagine a life without her by far. I’ve told her this all this evening. She had her suspicions and joked that she hoped it didn’t end up like the wilted flowers I left for her birthday. Or perhaps that chocolate cake that had disappeared in only a few days. To me, I’ve found there is heaven for us to find on earth, only it may take a special person to find it. That’s what love is, truly.