“Hello!” I flounced over to another group of people before anyone from the first could respond. “Hello!” Seeing their confused expressions, I chuckled and skipped down the sidewalk.
When I heard a woman speaking Spanish into her cell phone, I couldn’t help but exclaim “¡Hola! ¡Soy Leah!” She glared at me, but I was too giddy to care. I had a bet to win.
“I had been planning to spend my afternoon curled up by the fire with a good book and a cup of tea.” I picked a crumbling burnt-orange leaf out of my hair and tossed it to the ground. “Instead, I’m tramping through the woods on the hunt for an imaginary monster because you didn’t want to go on your own.”
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November 9. The best and worst day of my life.
I paced my minuscule apartment, plagued by a frenetic excitement that made my fingers twitch and gut clench. Outside, a frigid, torrential downpour assaulted Portland, obscuring the cityscape.
Dad’s ringback music played in my ear. On the last note, he picked up.
“’Ello?” He sounded almost… groggy.
“Mr. Thompson left his house, truck, and bank account to you, Courtney. Kim, he left you his… catapult.” I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the older sister’s understandable outrage. Dealing with this kind of reaction is the toughest part of my job.
But it was Courtney who sprang to her feet.
I made a last perusal of the place settings and brushed a hand down my cocktail dress. Perfect. The smell of turkey and buttered rolls filled our apartment.
Our friends would arrive any moment.
Gloria stomped into the room, still dressed in sweats and a stained t-shirt.
“What’s your problem?” I propped my hands
“I’m not good at being a human,” I explain, crunching a dead leaf under my feet as I take a step closer to the sidewalk bench. “I’ve been practicing, but I’m amateur at best. Humans, they’re… close to what I am, but I can’t avoid making them nervous around me.”
Big Ben chimes the late hour several blocks away.
In the dense forests outside one of the last Earth cities that survived the great atomic war, the underground revolution continues. Centuries after the war, the once-vibrant landscape is now filled with towering ruins and abandoned machinery. The grim reminders of humanity’s past mistakes are being reclaimed by lush greenery that slowly fades into its fall colors.
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“Ladies and gentlemen, step right up!”
Darcy O’Connor winces as a loud female voice bursts out of the AI interface speaker. Her robotics lab used to be such a peaceful place.
“Only one ticket to learn your future!”
This is the AI’s way of requesting paper. Darcy keeps turning off Carnival Mode, but it always reverts.
“Here’s the tracks the thief left, Frank.” Fairyland Hardware’s proprietor Marvin pointed to a muddy patch of ground behind the store.
I ambled over to look. Word about my crime-solving prowess had gotten around. These days, Frank’s Detective Agency was the first stop for most Fairyland folk when they had a mystery to unravel, and that worked for me.
From my third-row seat in the press room at the county sheriff’s office, I stretched my neck to see Detective Luz Margolis at the lectern.
Camera shutters clicked as she spoke. “Dental records leave no doubt: the body recently recovered from Lake Herring is missing tech entrepreneur Rachel Framer. The medical examiner estimates she’s been dead approximately three weeks.”
When someone dies, the general assumption is that they will stay dead. But every Day of the Dead, the laws of time and nature look the other way, and deceased relatives can drop by for family reunions.
Deceased relatives like myself.
I waited at the end of the driveway where my family lived. Reynolds stood by me with his arms crossed.
Moira turned the knob on the dashboard, silencing the radio. She sat quiet for a minute, listening. Funny. She could’ve sworn she’d heard something. She shrugged and leaned back in the passenger seat, singing a little under her breath. Dad was taking forever. How long did it take to pay for the gas and grab a soda?
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