Category: Imaginary Page 16 of 21

Imaginary Adventures

Moral Compass

On April 11, 2020

After returning home from a business trip, Chuck is greeted by a foul smell that leads him to a dead body that looks like him and killed by a compass he had written about in his book.

A pungent smell smacked Chuck Barkley across his face the moment he stepped inside his one-bedroom apartment. He dropped his suitcase, covering his face to stop the odor’s torture. He lived alone with no pets and was at the statewide library conference for a few days. Something was wrong, but his systematically organized place was clean, just like how he had left it.

Did some animal get inside and die? Chuck thought, trying not to speak and get the smell on his tongue too. Maybe a person? I doubt it.

Chuck walked over to the balcony door and opened it up to start getting fresh air inside. He regretted not buying that candle he liked during his work trip, but the worry for his books quickly replaced his regret. He rushed over to his prized collection of books. The author personally autographed their writing, and some notes addressed him. All of the few dozen books were accountable. Limiting himself to only autographed books helped retain his minimalist home. The only non-autographed books he had were the ones he wrote and an uncatalogued book he brought home from the library for safekeeping.

Keeping an eye out for the source of the smell, Chuck made his way to his bedroom. His voice of reason kicked in and assumed him the stench was most likely a sewage backup in his bathroom.

When Chuck opened the bedroom door, he discovered the source: a dead body. He looked away, gathering his composure, which took all of his willpower not to throw up right there. The detectives in the books he read always made seeing a dead body seem so casual. He forced himself to get a closer look. He had to know if it was someone he knew.

Spread out on the bed like a starfish was a man wearing the same brown pants and Game of Thrones shirt Chuck had on. The dead body also had the same face as Chuck. Chuck was an only child and wasn’t aware of any possible doppelgängers, either. The one part that didn’t mirror Chuck was the mystical looking compass covered in blood sticking out from the heart.

Chuck slapped his own hand as he tried to touch the compass. He didn’t own one and wondered where it came from and why a compass? He had read numerous books with unusual murder weapons, but a compass? In the book Chuck was writing, there was a magical compass that would point to the nearest evil. His brain switched from disgusted to inquisitive. The compass looked like the one he had written.

As Chuck walked over to the side of the room for a different view of the crime scene, the compass arrow followed him. He thought he imagined the needle moving with him, and so Chuck went back to where he was, and the needle followed. He went to the other side, and so did the needle.

“This is quite the mystery,” Chuck proclaimed to himself.

“It’s actually rather obvious,” a pretentious voice corrected. “You’re evil.”

Standing in the doorway was a tall, grizzly handsome man in a tan overcoat that Chuck recognized as his detective character.

“You’re real,” Chuck stated. “How are you real?”

“You didn’t give us much to play with, Chuck,” the character scolded. “You have such a limited collection of books. We want to go back to the library.”

The body on the bed sat up. “Take us back to the library, Chuck.”

A clown holding a red balloon stepped out from the bathroom. “We belong in the library, Chuck.”

All three of them chanted in unison. “Return the book to the library. Return the book to the library. Return—”

“You promise you won’t hurt anyone or cause any destruction?” Chuck interrupted.

“We are bound by rules not to intervene with life,” the dead body answered.

Chuck sighed. He went to his bookshelf and grabbed the uncatalogued book titled, “Unbound Words.” He placed the book in his satchel that he strapped on.

“I have to go to the library to handle some paperwork anyway, so I will take this book back if you behave.”

The characters smiled. Millions of words replaced their appearance before fading away to dust.

This week’s story was inspired by two writing prompts. One involved a character coming home from a long business trip to find their own dead body. Other elements came from Okie Show Show’s writing prompt that challenged people to include a compass, the line of dialog, “I doubt it,” and a character, Chuck Barkley, librarian.

The Impossible Exit

By Dennis

On April 4, 2020

In Imaginary

All Emma wanted was a relaxing bath after a long week, but her apartment elevator wanted to lead her down an impossible hallway.

The days and weeks had become a blur. The only reason I knew today was Saturday was because Becky posted a bubble bath selfie while holding a wine glass with the hashtag #SaturdayQuarantineQueen. I was going to copy my friend. As soon as I get inside my apartment, the bra is coming off, and then I’m going to toss my scrubs in the wash and soak in the tub until I’m a prune or catch myself falling asleep.

My apartment elevator was empty when I stepped inside. Good. I felt too gross to be around people. With all of the non-essential businesses closed, everyone was probably already inside. I pressed the button for my place on the 14th floor, which technically was the 13th floor, but thanks to superstition, my floor was labeled the 14th. Whenever one of my friends came, they would always make snarky jokes about being on an unlucky floor. Sure, the comments annoyed me, but I would welcome the remarks if that meant seeing my friends again.

“I would do anything to get life back to normal,” I muttered.

The elevator arrived. I heard a ding, and the elevator doors opened, but I stood directly facing the door, and they didn’t move. I pressed the door open button, but nothing happened.

A murky breeze tingled my back. The elevator was single-sided, but out of confusion, I turned around to find a dimly lit, curved hallway that was impossible to be there. This room didn’t fit the building’s design at all. The digital floor display read 13, which was impossible. I pushed the close door button.

Nothing.

I pushed again, and a voice whispered down the hall, “Emma.”

“Who’s there?” I yelled back.

“Emma,” the voice called to me, louder this time.

Something about the tone reminded me of my grandmother, but I wasn’t going to leave. Then the elevator dropped a foot like the brakes had lost their grip. Between two awful choices, I choose to hurl myself out. The doors slammed shut behind me faster than they usually would.

The faded red wallpaper of the hallway had seen better days, while the dome light fixtures along the walls seemed oddly modern to me. Not that I had any experience wandering down spooky hallways. The smell reminded me of the older parts of my college library I had explored for historical books.

I turned around to the elevator, only to find a wall.

“Guess I’m not going that way.”

I followed the curved hallway, looking for doors, but the hall kept spiraling downward. The voice calling my name got louder the further down I went. When I felt like I had traveled below the building, the voice stopped as I arrived in front of a stained glass window of the caduceus staff. I felt protected standing in the light of the two red snakes entwined around the golden-winged staff. Burning candles were placed around, like the Día de Muertos shrines I would set up with my family.

“Free me,” the voice begged.

“How?” I asked.

“Free me,” the voice repeated, weaker.

I sighed as I took off my shoe. Channeling my softball days, I threw the shoe at the window, shattering the glass.

The voice cried out in glee, “Yes.”

A ghostly woman with a sewage-like glow floated up and out from the window. The bandages wrapped around her were torn and tattered. Her face was brittle and mummified. She smiled, revealing no teeth.

The spirit charged at me, but a staff like the one depicted in the window struck her down.

“Not today, pestilence creature,” the old man wielding the staff ordered. He turned toward me and pointed at a door behind me that looked like my front door. “Go. Don’t give up the fight.”

The creature rose back up. “One of my sisters is already free. I can feel that you’re weak–it is delicious–and not many believe in you anymore.”

“Others will fight back, even if not in my name.”

The two fought as I ran for the door. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open into my apartment. I slammed the door behind me, and, catching my breath, I collapsed against my barrier between whatever I experienced.

I was so ready for a bath.

The Impossible Exit - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “Saturday night after a long week, you’re riding the elevator up to your apartment, it stops on your floor, and the back opens.”

I went back and forth on the ending of this story. I thought about having the scene end with the trapped monster smiling, but I wanted to end on a somewhat hopeful note. I hope you enjoyed this story and wash your hands!

The Stranger in the Dark Suit

By Dennis

On March 28, 2020

In Imaginary

The man who has been haunting Tyler’s nightmares for the past several days takes the same bus as him.

Tyler’s eyes snapped open to a gasp that felt stolen from his own lungs. A clammy sweat slicked his chest, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The nightmare still clung to him, a foul residue of phantom sensations—the slick, cold feel of pavement against his cheek, the jarring crack of bone, the sight of a pair of polished black shoes walking away. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the recurring images.

“Fucking stranger again,” Tyler whispered into the darkness, the words barely a puff of air.

He kept his voice low, careful not to wake his partner sleeping beside him. Rolling onto his side, Tyler wrapped an arm around his partner’s warm body, seeking an anchor in the real world. The steady rhythm of their breathing helped ease the frantic pounding in his own chest.

The dreams were always the same in their structure. Tyler would be running, his legs leaden, through some distorted version of a place he knew. And always, the tall man in the dark suit would be there. The locations and the methods of death varied with a chilling creativity, but the outcome was constant.

The stranger would catch him.

His partner had dismissed the nightmares as a side effect of too many late-night video games, but Tyler knew this feeling was different. This dread was a cold, smooth stone in his gut, a premonition that felt too real to be just a dream. He told himself the anxiety was a product of his new job and the unnerving quiet that had fallen over the world.

The following morning, Tyler stood on the street outside his apartment building, the air thick with a damp March chill. The world felt muted, as though a layer of gray gauze had been draped over everything. During the pandemic, the city had developed an eerie, watchful silence that put his nerves on edge. Still, he was grateful his job at the downtown luxury hotel was deemed “essential,” providing a small island of routine in a sea of uncertainty.

As the bus hissed to a stop, Tyler pulled his homemade face mask over his nose and mouth and climbed aboard. Every other seat was blocked off with a yellow sign warning, “FACEMASK REQUIRED.” The only other passenger was a man standing near the back. He was tall and wore a black, impeccably tailored suit and a matching fedora, a style that seemed plucked from a bygone era.

Tyler froze in the aisle. The air in his lungs turned to ice. Every muscle in his body screamed, a primal recognition that bypassed thought. Even with the distance and the mask covering his own face, Tyler’s gut knew.

This was the stranger from his nightmares.

“Take a seat,” the bus driver ordered, his voice muffled and impatient.

Tyler snapped back to the present. “Sorry.”

He slid into the nearest available seat, his gaze fixed on the floor. He risked a glance up. As he did, he could have sworn the man winked at him from the back of the bus—a slow, deliberate gesture that said, Yes, it’s me.

Tyler’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, desperate for a distraction. He forced his eyes to focus on the screen, scrolling through social media feeds filled with the usual cocktail of doom, gloom, and blame.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, so he switched to his phone’s camera, angling the device to catch the reflection from the window. Using his screen as a periscope to spy on the man in the back, the stranger stood unnervingly still, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed soullessly ahead.

The automated voice announced Tyler’s stop. He was a few blocks from the hotel, but the bus had stopped in front of his favorite coffee shop. A hot drink felt like a necessary shield against the morning’s chill. As Tyler stepped off the bus, he heard a second set of footsteps hit the pavement behind him.

“Be cool,” Tyler told himself, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. “He’s not following you.”

He pushed open the door to Clarity Coffee and risked a look over his shoulder. The stranger walked past the shop without a glance. A wave of relief washed over Tyler, so potent his knees felt weak. Inside, he kept his distance from the other patrons, ordered his coffee to-go, and began the final walk to work.

Downtown was a ghost town, the towering glass and steel buildings reflecting an empty sky. A low, mournful hum had replaced the usual roar of traffic. As he crossed a deserted street, the feeling of being watched returned, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

He looked behind him.

Half a block away, the stranger in the dark suit stood, watching him.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Tyler whispered, the words tasting like a lie. “But to be sure…”

Tyler turned the corner down a narrow alleyway, the smell of trash filling his nose. He pressed himself against the cold wall and peeked back around the corner.

The street was empty.

Tyler let out a shaky breath and turned forward. The stranger stood in the center of the alley, arms crossed, his eyes—dark and depthless—fixed on him.

Panic seized Tyler. He spun around to run, but a solid form blocked his path. He had slammed right into the stranger’s chest. An unnaturally large hand shot out and clamped around Tyler’s throat, lifting him off his feet. Tyler clawed at the fingers, his own hands feeling small and useless. He tried to scream, but the sound was choked off, a pathetic, strangled gasp.

No one would hear him.

The world was hiding from a different kind of monster.

“I’m only going to warn you once,” the stranger spoke, his voice a low, firm rumble that vibrated through Tyler’s skull. “Tell anyone that the hotel you work at is haunted—especially journalists—and I will make your nightmares of me a reality.”

The stranger dropped him.

Tyler collapsed to the pavement, a heap of terror and choked breaths. When he managed to look up, the man had vanished, leaving only the cold, damp air of the alley behind.

This short story was inspired by current events and the following writing prompt: “You have a recurring dream of being chased by a mysterious man in a dark suit almost every other night. This morning when getting on the bus to work, you see him sitting in the back and make eye contact. He winks at you.”

Thank you to Keith Zarraga at Design Pickle for creating this artwork to help bring the story to life!

If you want me to keep writing more stories, join me on Patreon!

The Case of Statue Trail

By Dennis

On March 22, 2020

In Imaginary

A freelance private investigator is hired to figure out if a client’s wife was transformed into a statue.

The sun was out without a cloud in the sky, but Psychon’s enormous umbrella protected him from the deadly-to-him UV rays as he strolled through Riverside Park. After his last job solving a missing person’s case, he asked his client for recommendations for scenic spots. They urged him to explore the park and smell the Blue Hibiscus flowers, which only bloomed during the day. He stopped and smelled the mild sweetness of the blossoms as suggested.

“Kay, you would’ve loved this place,” Psychon said aloud to no one. “Maybe I’ll get a shuttle to the Blue Planet next and visit the beaches there.”

Psychon’s networker on his wrist vibrated with an incoming commutation. He pushed aside his jacket sleeve, allowing the network to cast a holographic screen. A Karviná Uvae listed the incoming call as a job request with a nearby location in the park. He tapped on the green accept button, connecting the call, replacing the screen with a video of an ghaukvoi woman. The ghaukvoi were similar to humans but taller with varying shades of blue skin and pointy ears.

“Detective Psychon!” Color returned to Karviná’s blue face like she had been holding her breath in anticipation. “Praise the goddess. Are you available? I saw you’re one of the best detectives in the Five-Following Planets, and this might be beneath you, but I really could use your help.”

“I’m available. What problem may I solve for you?”

Karviná turned the screen to a statue of a young adult human woman. “I believe someone turned my wife into a statue.”

Psychon started to walk in the direction of the caller’s location. “You know, you could call the protectors and get her cured.”

“I could, but I don’t want to embarrass myself if I’m wrong.”

“Understandable. Every interaction with the protectors does become public record.”

“Exactly! Plus, you see, my wife is part of the arts council. She met with the rest of the council to discuss some public art projects, and I decided to take a jog while she worked. When I finished, I came back here where I found this statue, and I cannot get in touch with her.”

I wonder if she is the kind of person to allow herself to be temporarily transformed statue for art, Psychon thought. No, judging from how worried Karviná is, she would’ve told her in advance so she wouldn’t panic.

“I’m not cheap.”

“Your rate won’t be an issue, especially if you save me from embarrassment.”

“And if your suspicions are correct?”

Karviná paused to think. Her worry shifted to anger. “Then I’ll want you to hunt down whoever did this.”

“Very well.” Psychon chuckled at her sudden enthusiasm. “I think I see you now.”

Karviná waved, and Psychon ended the call. Her outfit was the opposite of his in every way – bright, floral patterned shorts, a matching sports bra, and running shoes. Still, she didn’t have to worry about catching on fire in the sunlight.

The two stood facing the statue of Karviná’s wife. With one hand holding his umbrella, Psychon glided his fingers over the surprised facial expression. The texture of the stone felt like the work of a gorgon, but he had to be sure.

Psychon pulled off his pointy black hat. The detective decorated the outside with an eclectic assortment of patches he sewed, while the inside featured spatial revamping technology. He could store items ten times the hat’s size, such as his umbrella and anything he needed for work. He dug around inside and pulled out a material analyzer. The gray cylinder device was about the size of a flashlight.

After putting his hat back on, he pressed the device against the statue’s neck and tapped the red button. The device emitted three quick, high-pitched beeps.

Psychon glanced at his client. “Looks like you’re right. Your wife was turned into stone by a gorgon–a human one, to be precise. Does she have any enemies, Karviná?”

His client scoffed. “Sometimes she would complain about rejected eccentric artists, but she always made the matter seem like no big deal.”

The detective put his analyzer in his jacket. “Anyone who would want to turn her into stone?”

“I don’t know! You’re the detective!” Karviná took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s the love of your life. You’re allowed to snap.”

Karviná smiled.

Psychon looked down the urban wilderness trail, noting the other sculptures decorated along the path. Various species stood with nothing in common other than what he interrupted as an expression of fear or surprise on their faces.

“By any chance, do you recognize any of the other statues?”

Karviná turned away from her wife and studied the others. “Oh. I’ve been so focused on my wife that I didn’t realize someone turned the rest of the arts council to stone.”

“Let me confirm.” Psychon went to the nearest statue and performed the test. “Same result.” He checked another one. “Also, same.”

Karviná pointed to a statue. “I don’t recognize that one.”

Psychon tested the statue. “Interesting. Someone turned this person to stone before the arts council members.”

Karviná crossed her arms. “What do you think is going on?”

“I’m not sure.” Psychon kneed down for a close inspection of the ground, mindful of the umbrella’s location as not to damage the statue or get himself roasted. By the statue’s feet was a golden plaque with the engraving, The Horrors of Corporations. “Curious…”

Karviná jogged to the detective. “What? What did you find?”

Psychon pointed to the plaque. “This statue was deliberate. We should get the protectors out here to get everyone to a hospital for treatment. Once restored, they should be able to tell us what happened.”

“But that process takes time, and whoever did this is still out there!”

Psychon paused. His client had a solid point, and so he constructed a plan.

“Very well,” he announced. “I have a theory, but I’ll need your help.”

* * *

Karviná jogged along the paved trail as the route came out along a river. She hadn’t seen anyone for several minutes. She resisted hard to look over her shoulders constantly, and with the upcoming stretch having no statues, she was on high alert. The detective’s instructions to “act natural” kept repeating over and over in her head.

She focused on the river’s flow, hoping the sight would relax her like the waterfall white-nose she listened to at night. She took a deep breath to center her mind when a human woman jumped out in front of her.

“Hello, there!” the stranger greeted with an extensively cheerful smile. Paint splatter covered her long-sleeve shirt and well-worn white jeans. Only her rainbow pattern beanie cap was free of paint. “Would you like to make some art with me?”

“I’m just out here enjoying a jog,” Karviná stumbled to explain.

The artist pulled out a large knife from her belt holster. “But my project needs more volunteers.”

The artist’s beanie flicked off her head as several gorgon snakes hissed to life. Karviná screamed, prompting Psychon to jump down from the treetops. While floating underneath his umbrella, he landed directly on the artist, knocking her down. He immediately handcuffed her, which neutralized the snakes.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Karviná said, coming down from the adrenaline rush.

“I already called the protectors to treat those transformed and make an arrest.”

“Why?” the artist cried. “All those people with increasing terror on the faces as they got closer to the big corporate complexes. This project was going to be beautiful. The stupid arts council would’ve seen the genius of my work!”

A pair of uniformed protectors spotted them and rushed their way.

Psychon gently forced the artist up. “Maybe next time, don’t build statues out of people.”

This short story was somewhat inspired by the following writing prompt: “A man discovers that a statue in a public square has something strange. She seems way too real. He discovers that there is a corpse inside it. A detective is called to see this, and he figures out that every single statue in this square hides a corpse.”

I thought it would be fun to write a short story featuring Detective Psychon, who is a minor character in my book, The Crashing of Heaven and Hell, and from a TV series I once attempted, but still plan to do. Since I’ve originally published this story, I’ve written more about the detective. You can find all of them in chronological order on his profile page.

Thank you to Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle for bringing this beautiful scene to life. For inspiration, I gave Janine a photo of the Tulsa, Oklahoma rival trails. In my mind, as I was writing this story, I even pictured those trails. If you ever find yourself in Tulsa, I recommend taking a hike or bike ride along there.

The Spiral Staircase in the Woods

By Dennis

On March 14, 2020

In Imaginary

During a morning jog, two friends take a detour to explore a mysterious spiral staircase that leads to a trap.

Sydney had long since accepted Chloe’s need to pause, change course, and explore during their weekly jog together. In the beginning, Sydney was annoyed by her friend’s curiosity as she preferred to keep a steady pace. After several exciting detours, she grew to love the deviations as they added a sense of adventure. Sydney often found herself jogging alone for brief periods before realizing Chloe wasn’t by her side, but this time, Chloe put her arm in front of Sydney to stop themselves.

“Look at that,” Chloe said, pointing out toward the woods.

Sydney scanned the scene. Behind a battered and boarded manufactured house stood a spiral metal staircase that reached up into the treetops.

“That’s weird,” Sydney commented. “It reminds me of that suspended staircase public art piece in Automobile Alley.”

Chole raised both arms into the air. “We should climb it!”

“I don’t know if that’s safe…”

“I bet it was put there on purpose so you can see the birds. Don’t you want to see the birds, Syd?”

Sydney sighed. “I’ll do it for the birds.”

“Yay!” Chloe cheered as she jogged to the staircase.

Sydney followed. Without a second thought, Chloe ran up several steps while Sydney stopped to inspect the staircase for safety. The staircase didn’t fall with Chloe going full force, but Sydney wasn’t sure how exactly the steps were standing as she couldn’t see any wires or beams holding the structure in place.

Chloe ran up several more stairs. “Come on. It’s safe.”

Sydney chased after her friend, who ran up higher, giggling. They reached the top, which led to a metal-enclosed balcony capable of holding a small group of visitors. The sun started to rise off in the distance as Sydney stood next to Chloe.

They soaked in the warmth of the sunrise as the sun painted the sky a vibrant orange. Neither of them said anything to each other. Sydney glanced over at Chloe, watching the sunlight glide over her freckled face. She turned back to the sky, searching for any birds.

After a moment, Sydney could sense Chloe’s restlessness. “Ready to head down?”

Chloe bolted. “Last one down has to buy brunch!”

“Cheater!” Sydney shouted as she after her friend.

Chloe only managed to stay a few steps ahead. Sydney knew she could beat her, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to get past her. She kept running and running and running, never gaining on her.

Sydney stopped to catch her breath, and so did Chloe. “Shouldn’t we be down by now?”

“Yeah, going downstairs is always easier and faster.”

“I see the bottom,” Sydney said, trying to rationalize their predicament.

“Me too,” Chole said as she started to walk down. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

The two walked down the stairs, keeping an eye on the grassy floor. Neither could explain the phenomenon, but the more they went down, the more they did not get any closer to the bottom.

“I’m starting to freak out a bit now,” Chloe confessed.

Sydney looked over the rail. We’re too far to jump safely, she thought. Out of a sense of placement, she looked up. There were two people on the balcony.

“There are people up there.”

Chloe looked up. “How did they get there?”

“Let’s go find out.”

In the balcony viewing area stood a tall, slender man in a white and pink suit with a woman of a similar build, but a little shorter and in a red dress holding a tablet device. Their similar hair and face structure made Sydney assume the two were siblings. Behind them was a white metal door with a golden accent strip.

“Looks like they found us, Raven,” the man said as Sydney and Chloe reached the top.

“Indeed they have, Loki,” the woman said.

“Do you think they know what’s wrong, Raven?”

“I think they suspect something, Loki.”

“I think you are correct, Raven.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Sydney demanded.

“Shall we tell her, Raven?” Loki asked.

“I think you should tell her, Loki,” Raven responded.

“But you have a way with the words, Raven.”

“As do you, Loki.”

“Would one of you explain what’s going on?” Sydney interrupted. “I don’t care who. Take turns if you must.”

“This staircase is a construct of your fears, Sydney,” Loki explained.

Raven tapped on her tablet. “Like any fear, the only way to break free is to confess your truth.”

Loki opened the door. On the other side was an impossible night scene of a series of office cubicles. Raven stepped inside, followed by Loki. “Good luck.”

Loki closed the door behind him. The door disappeared in a blink the moment the door shut.

“What truth do you need to confess?” Chloe asked, visibly freaked out.

Sydney looked into Chloe’s eyes. Actions are more powerful than words, she thought to herself right before she kissed Chloe. Chloe returned the embrace. When they parted, they discovered they were on the ground where the staircase once stood.

“Been waiting for that,” Chloe admitted.

Sydney smiled. “So, who has to buy brunch?”

“I think we’ll count that one as a tie.”

Out of sight in the abandoned home, Loki and Raven watched as Chloe and Sydney jogged off together. Loki tossed Raven a golden coin, which she caught and put in her dress pocket.

“You won that one,” Loki admitted. “I thought it would’ve taken them much longer to escape.”

“Don’t worry. You got more opportunities.”

This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “You’re walking home and you see a solitary staircase in the woods behind an abandoned house. They go up into the treeline. Out of curiosity, you start walking up them. After walking up for a while you decide to go back but never reach the bottom. When you look back up again you see the top.”

Thank you to Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle for bringing the platform scene to life. If you want to read another story with Chole and Sydney, check out The Oak Tree Box.