I sat with my lighter in my hand flickering it on and off, then on and off again. Other then my lighter flicking, the room was dark and dusty.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed, lighting up and showing the name “Mark Heisenberg, FBI”

This was, unfortunately, a more of a normal call then non. Mark had helped me get my name out of several cases and made sure I kept my job. “Hey Mark, what’s the problem this time?” A voice, deep and country like responded from the other end “Problem? Can’t a friend call for fun?” “Did you?” “No, not at all, your name was brought up in the Magnus case. He asked for you especially to interrogate him”

Out of all the times Mark called me, this was by far the weirdest way my name was brought up. Last time, for example, there was a possible arson threat at my property.

             “Why me? There’s at least a hundred agents active currently “

The other end of the phone grew quite. And while the other end was silent, I grew impatient. While I was holding my lighter before, I had set it down when Mark had called. When it comes to business, personal or work, the caller gets my undivided attention. A crackle came from Marks end as he finally said “Magnus says he’s your son” My face had gone white, and if I were standing up I was not anymore. This new was impossible, my son had died in my very arms on December 3rd, at exactly 12:40. I remember the time and day so clearly, it was like it was my birthday. “My son is died Mark, you know this” “I know this, but unfortunately, his DNA says otherwise “

Finding a way into tricky situations has never been a problem for me - although I still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them. And here I am again. Right in the middle of a tricky situation. My clothes are sticking to my body - not because of cold sweat. Water has entered the small room. It's already getting to my hips. Another half hour at most and then it would be over. Then it would be my last tricky situation. I rattled the locked door once more. It just wouldn't open. I had taken extra care to leave the door open when I entered the room. I had no idea that the masked man would come after me and slam the door shut. I looked to the side. He was still standing motionless in the corner. The others were probably already in the rescue capsule. The water was already up to my shoulders. I desperately shook the thick iron door that separated me from the rescue. “Give me a hand,” what was supposed to sound like a command sounded like begging. It was no use. The man wasn't moving. With the last of my strength, I banged my fists against the door. “Help me.” Nothing. “Help.” Silence. There was no one else here. Just me and the masked man. Tears were running down my cheeks. The water was almost up to my ears. I slowly leaned against the wall. I had to accept my fate. The masked man stepped out of his corner and gave me a warm hug. Out of nowhere I was no longer cold. It felt like home. I was no longer afraid. I felt safe in the arms of the stranger. And then I knew. This was my end. From the moment I entered the room, it was my end. And for one time in my life I was able to escape. Not only this situation but life.

Finding a way into tricky situations has never been a problem for me - although I still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them. Here I am, on a Friday evening, sitting on a tree branch and staring rather stupidly at the bedroom window of one of my friends with benefits.

I’d rather be at the pub downing an ale, but my dumb self had to lose something kind of embarassing in that room. And for my own sake, I better find it before she does.

I shift my hips trying to ease my discomfort. Movies make sitting on tree branches easier than it seems. From my position I can see my friend sitting at her desk, browsing… Reddit? I’m not sure. Jeez… Isn’t she going out on a Friday evening? I need her out of the room! I can feel my stomach growling. It’s way past dinner time and I feel wretched. I sigh as I see her start playing The Sims.

This is going to be a long night.

Finding a way into a tricky situation has never been a problem for me - although I still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them. Don’t get me wrong - it’s always an adventure and never boring… the issue is the amount of danger it could bring onto myself, other people, living creatures or the planet. Doesn’t matter how whole or alive any of us might be anyway, it’s still a huge responsibility we can hold.
You know that saying, that curiosity killed the cat? Nobody teaches us that satisfaction brings it back. As long as it’s not TOO risqué, it’s all fair game. But let me paint you the picture my ass painted itself into; Iiiiiii happen to be in an old ass plane flown by an old ass man. A sugar daddy. Not mine, though!! Don’t worry. It is so rickety and scary and I have no idea what city we’re going to or if the old bloke might have a heart attack mid flight. I also didn’t let anyone know what I’m doing, so if I die? Would be more like a disappearance. A runaway (never to be, by choice though, they’ve tried) bride. But at least I get to experience this. Oh yeah!!! Forgot to say I’m on molly. Yeah, it’s extra fun but also riskier. This whole little plane is wearing a lacy and leather thong basically. Anywho!! Wish us luck on landing, I will get my own room! The bay is looking beautiful so far, first time at an airb&b with giant bathrum and a jacuzzi hut in yard! So definitely (unless we crash and die, of course) be VERY very jealous.

I’ve had a bad luck streak for a few years. And by a few years, I mean 21 consecutive years where I’ve been thrown shit balls. Just recently, I’ve failed Chemistry. For the second time. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Seriously? You failed the same class twice.” Yes. Oh and last march I backed into a car and the woman committed insurance fraud, which increased by car insurance to a diabolical amount. This is just the tip of the iceberg from hell. However, there is one good thing that I have been graced with. Her. The prettiest goddamn girl ever. She’s everything I have ever wanted. Now, that “everything I have ever wanted” is stranded with me in a cave. Why are we in a cave? Couldn’t fucking tell you. We were driving up the mountain for a weekend trip to a cabin.

Finding a way into tricky situations has never been a problem for me - although i still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them. So now i was sitting in a cell in the castle dungeon and awaiting someone to bring me before their royal snobiness’s. I suppose getting caught was always a risk for me, i’m not exactly subtle. But i’ve usually been able to buy or force my way out. Still, I’ve been arrrested my fair share of times, i would almost think i would finally become friends with my victims, but they were devoid of any sense of humor.

I was a little ahead of myself here if i’m being honest. You see, i was trying to break into the upper floors of the castle, not land myself in the lower ones. I was here to steal a jewel one of the wealthy merchants wife’s wanted. I don’t know why she was dumb enough to think she would even be able to wear it without getting herself into trouble, but she payed well, and i don’t ask questions to stupid rich people who’ll pay me any insane amounts to add a litle adventure into my life. I mean, i’m sure if they knew i thought of it that way, they would think twice. But then again, they weren’t really the type to think.

So i was sitting in a dungeon awaiting trial because apparently for the past few days the queen had noticed something (me, scouting the area) through her window and had placed some guards near it.

What they don’t tell you about jail by the way, is how _boring it _is. I mean, i had been sitting here for almost 3 WHOLE hours. My darling rulers had never made me wait this long! Perhaps they were angry with me. I see how it is, i was getting the silent treatment! And it simply would not stand. I didn’t think i would be waiting much longer though, so i sat and attempted to entertain myself.

_Finally _i heard the door open, and the guard smiled at me. She was spinning the keys around and around in her hand as if to mock me. “Ready to get out of here?” “You have absolutely no idea.” She smiled even wider and said, “you’ll have to tell me the story later. Getting caught stealing from the queen? I’m very impressed.”

Then again, maybe i wasn’t so bad at getting out of tricky situations after all.

Mom used to read us a book about a sticky kid. Everything the kid touched stuck, and eventually the kid couldn’t move because too many things stuck. That’s kind of how I feel, stuck in the backseat. I feel like I can’t move. The front seat is SO much better. You can see everything up there. You get fresh air from the vents, and you can control the radio. The back seat is for suckers. Speaking of suckers… I’m almost positive one is stuck to my butt at this very moment……. Yep. I had a feeling I was going to regret not finding its wrapper.

Finding a way into tricky situations has never been a problem for me - although I still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them. This by far is the most tricky situation I have ever found myself in. Let me explain.

I pull back the bow string and align my shot. I’m about to release and let the arrow fly towards the target when my mothers voice from behind me makes me flinch. I miss. I curse and spin around. “Mother. You scared me half to death. You know better than to scare me like that. I could have injured someone with that shot.” I keep my temper down and try not to show my disappointment. I set my bow down in the grass and turn back to see my mothers face scowling at me, “Lenore, how many times must I tell you that archery and sword fighting is,” I finish the sentence with her, “Improper for a princess. I know mother.” I want to walk away at that moment after saying a rude remark but I must be that “perfect” princess with “perfect” deportment if I want to be queen someday. Little does she know, I don’t want to be. “I do apologize but quite frankly I want to enjoy my life before getting married off by force to some ignorant prince.” My mother gasps but I clear my throat to speak again before she can get mad, "Now if you will excuse me I need to go to my room." i hurry off trying to get away from my mother before she mentions that I need to try on that dress she has been bugging me about for weeks.

As I sit on my bed I brush my wavy, fiery orange hair, I stereotypically think about my future. It’s sad but true.

The kingdom of Aetheria is the biggest of the Five Pillars. It’s also the kingdom I am the heir to. My mother is queen right now but my father passed away when I was eight, it was an incident in town with bombers. Ever since then I jump at the slightest noises. Unlike the other four, our kingdom is ruled by humans. Antaria is the second biggest kingdom, ruled by Angels, also the most strict kingdom. Then there is Infernia, the closest kingdom to Aetheria, and also the third biggest kingdom. Ruled by demons. Next to them is Crysterius, ruled by Faeries, which even though is one of the smallest kingdoms, has been in power for longer than Aetheria. Lastly, Aetheria’s other neighboring kingdom, Nerropolis. An underwater city ruled by a family of sirens. And despite being underwater they are the richest kingdom in the Five Pillars of Fantasia. All of the kingdoms are seperated by a lush forest that is rumored to have bloodthirsty beasts roaming the grounds so the kingdoms have never necessarily came in contact with each other.

I hear a knock at the door and I am jarred from my thoughts. “Come in.” And with that my mother walks in holding that god forsaken jade green, ball gown. “I have told you a million times, I shall try it on when I have time. I am running into town in about five minutes. I promise I will know if it fits by the time the ball comes around.” For the first time in history my mother is hosting a ball and every kingdom is invited. She says it’s a chance for me to find a husband but I’m not planning on it. “It would look fantastic on you dear,” she sets it neatly on my bed, “But very well. When you get back try to find time to put it on.” She gives me a small smile and exits the room.

I pick up the dagger I have hidden in my desk drawer and hide it in my corset, then I walk down the corridor and out into the cloudy afternoon.

As I walk into the village after a brisk half a mile walk, I get many looks of people recognizing me but I keep my head down and head to the local cobbler. Before I can reach the shop I notice a sound coming from a near alleyway. It sounds like the scraping of metal against metal and my curiousity gets the best of me. I look but am met with nothing but a dead end. I turn around to walk away but I feel a sudden sharp pain in the back of my head and everything goes black.

When I awake, I am in a dark room with my hands cuffed to a wall, it smells of mold and the atmosphere feels dank. I look around immediately planning how to escape but the door infront of me opens smoothly and a figure of a person steps inside. The figure lights a lantern and the room illuminates. It’s a man. Around my age, eighteen or more likely nineteen, with dark black hair, eyes that I mistook for black but are instead deep blue, like the ocean of Nerropolis. “What do you want from me.” I keep my tone steady as to not reveal my panick. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, “Nothing much. I’ll possibly use you for ransom.” He has a black suit on that fits him too perfectly and I’m almost caught off guard by his presence. _No. Don’t get distracted. _

He suddenly meets my gaze and his expression looks shocked and takes a step closer, eyes filled with recognition, “The princess of Aetheria.”

(Part 2 coming soon)

‘Finding a way into tricky situations has never been a problem for me- although I still haven’t learned the art of getting out of them.’

When Paris was little, she was constantly getting in trouble. That’s just who she was; a little trouble maker, who couldn’t help but ruin and tear down everything in her path. It was just how she was born. She’d paint walls with permanent markers in the ugliest colors, she’d put foil in the microwave, she’d let the dog out without a leash, causing her poor mother to have to search the neighborhood for the old beagle. There was a scapegoat for her. Her sister, Grace. Mother’s punishments were quite harsh. She wasn’t afraid to get physical. She also wasn’t afraid of telling Paris that she was a mistake and only made things harder. Grace would notice this. Grace was the perfect child, and punishments on her would be far less rough. Grace would take some responsibility for actions she had no clue about. A boy sneaking into the house at night? It was Grace’s boyfriend. Fifty dollars missing from mom’s wallet? Grace wanted to get some new shoes. Paris herself was never good at getting out of tricky situations. If she didn’t have a sister, she would’ve been beaten to a bloody plump. Her sister was always the one to get her out of trouble. This, however, Grace could not get her out of. Not unless Paris somehow made Grace’s murder look like a suicide. But how can you make 3 bullets to the back of the head look like a suicide? No, no. Paris heard the sirens. She wasn’t getting out of this. She’s going to have to face the punishment this time. A dead body can’t help her.

And this problem is far from an exception. I’ve been down this road before, metaphorically and physically. All of the buildings loom like giants above my head. I swear they look like they’re leaning towards me at certain angles which makes me feel even more like a button mushroom growing on a forest floor. Which block was it on again? I remember it visually, following the vauge instructions from a New York professional. “It’s close, just a few blocks…” I am never trusting a doorman ever again. I feel as deserted as the map I left in the hotel room. I can see the towers looming above me, my destination. So close yet so far. The pavement is burning a hole in my once clean ballet flats. They weren’t meant for this kind of frantic trek across pigeon shit and rat-sized potholes. A left. A right. Then another. Luckily here I am, gasping like a fish out of water, below the twin towers, sweat matting my hair to the back of my neck.