Kaloa headed for the water, surfboard in hand. The crashing waves roared the truth he refused to hear: he kept trying to prove he was the same rider from fifteen years ago.
He duck-dived through the break and surfaced in a prime spot. One, two, three paddles—he was up.
“The King is dead!”
Thunderous roaring from the crowd called for the king’s head, deafening me and chilled me to the bone. Only one thing had satisfied them: the King’s blood. My blood.
Did my people really loathe me that much?
If they thought the king was dead… A sickening knot formed in my stomach.
Janitor. Maid. Hygienic maintenance specialist. All these job descriptions were technically accurate. But none of them alluded to the truly unique skillset required to be a member of the staff cleaning crew at C.A.P.E Quarters—that is, the headquarters of the Crimefighting Association of Powered Entities.
She was Dee Dalsey … The Cleaning Lady.
Pearlescent light envelops me when I slide from the vent and brush the dust from my tattered dress. A groan parts my lips as my spine uncurls, limbs stretching. I glance around, anxious that I have given myself away. But the airship’s Grand Hall is empty, silent.
Trying to ignore the tempting shape at the end of the room,
Lazy, swinging jazz filtered in my window from the music school on the floor below my office. I swirled my glass, listening to how the clinking ice joined the quick staccato melody from the saxes and the rain outside. Every once in a while, a rumble of thunder or bright flash of lightning added some excitement to my personal concert.
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The river was endless.
It stretched like a vein of black glass through the dark, wide enough to swallow sky and shore alike. The air smelled of iron and salt. Each pull of the oar echoed like a heartbeat too slow to belong to the living.
I leaned against one of the many freestanding pillars around the edges of the ballroom, pretending to sip the violet liquid in my cup. Pairs of dancers whirled across the dance floor, feet moving perfectly in rhythm with the string ensemble’s arrangement of a popular tune.
Behind me, trios and quartets mingled at tables
I staggered into the kitchen, pulling on the white-grey shirt of my superhero suit and accidentally jamming my toe against a chair. “Ouch!”
Behold, the mighty hero Shields, sans coffee.
With the shirt on properly—never mind, it’s on backward—I jabbed a button on the coffee maker. Gurgle, gurgle.
My stroll down the block came to a halt as I caught the sign in my periphery. TIMELESS: Antiques & Vintage Goods. I could practically feel the time portal pulse with hope, though I’d shoved the former deep within my bag and the latter deep within my soul.
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Officer Ward pulled up to the house. Danielle’s car sat in the driveway behind Taylor’s SUV. Coincidence? Might make his job easier—two birds, one stone—but he dreaded the coming conversation… or confession. Too close to this case, he cursed himself for not asking the chief to make this call.
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Announcing the winners of the “Encore: Rebirth” January 2026 flash fiction contest!
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The crowd cheered, and confetti fluttered through the air as people gathered on either side of the street. Trevon pushed with his elbows through the bodies blocking his path, gently cupping the treasure he held in his hand. Men and women grimaced as he passed,
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