“No, no, you can’t just punch a ghost,” Luce sighed, pointing to the slideshow. “Have you been paying any attention?”

“Yeah, totally, of course!” MegaGirl said, her gaze drifting back to the squirrels outside the window.

Luce rubbed her temples, trying to stay calm. Professional. “Daisy, if you don’t-”

“My name is MegaGirl!” she cried, trying to scramble out of her desk and tripping on her cape.

She darted around the kitchen, pouring milk, tossing cereal, packing lunchboxes. She smiled as her husband entered the room, dodging around their kids and the cat. Mornings were always chaotic, but it was her favorite time of day, all the same.

“The snapdragons are looking great this year,” he said, glancing out the kitchen window. “I’m still not sure how you do it.”

“Oh, just my secret compost recipe,” she said lightly, passing him his coffee.

The doorbell rang, jarring them all from their routines.

“Who’s that?” the kids asked in unison.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Can you go check? I need to get these lunches packed.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks! Okay, if you keep fighting over the last waffle, I’m going to eat it.”

She forgot all about the doorbell, until her husband entered the kitchen with two strangers. Two strangers wearing shiny badges and guns on their hips.

Her mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help herself; she glanced out the kitchen window, taking a shallow breath as she saw more people wearing uniforms digging up her garden. Specifically, the snapdragons.

They know.

Inspired by a prompt from Squibler.

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

“I can’t believe you got me into this.”

“It’s not my fault you are part of a prophecy!”

“Yeah, well,” Laurel grunted, focusing all her energy into the shield surrounding them, “you’re the one that yanked me out of my home and into this mess. I should have shot the messenger.”

Allmand looked at her in horror. “You wouldn’t do that! You are a chosen Conduit for the Earth Mother, charged with protecting the land and sky and sea! You are to harm none, lest they harm you or the earth! And I haven’t done anything!”

Laurel shot him a look. “Yeah, well, you are harming my concentration right now, so I might have to do something drastic.”

“Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to my pitch today. I really appreciate this opportunity, and you won’t be sorry!”

“Go ahead with your pitch.”

“Right, right. So, everything is getting revamped, right? Beloved franchises, familiar stories, are all getting a reboot or an update. And I know you are already working on a bunch, and they all look great, but what if we take it a step further? Take your brand and elevate it, bring it into the modern world. What would that look like?

“I have the answer. You make them edgy. You make them modern, raw. You bring your properties into the twenty-first century. How might you do that? By taking your familiar, beloved story-lines and adding real-life challenges to them.

“Wait, so you’re a cannibal?”

Dinah sighed, shaking her head. “No, I’m not a cannibal, I’m Catholic.”

Zewratses shook her head, making the tendrils on her head sway and the eyes at the ends of them blink. “Wait, but you said the little cookie and the red liquid are part of your god, which is also human? And something else? So, you eat your own.”

Dinah rubbed her temples. Why had she decided to volunteer for the Earthen-Martian Cultural Outreach Program again? Oh, right, to “promote inter-species community and peace.”

“It’s an allegory, okay? It doesn’t really mean we are eating the body of another person.”

Death had had a long day. Not that Death ever had a short day; people were always dying to meet Death, so she was always busy. She sighed, rubbing her temples. It was telling to just how long a day it was that the joke didn’t make her smile, idiotic as it was.

Death unlocked the gate to her garden, Cerberus on her heels. He was a three headed pug today, but even that couldn’t bring a smile to Death’s face. She stumbled into her cottage, and collapsed on the couch, eyes closed. She needed a vacation. She had heard of them from the humans she shuttled down, but had never taken one. There wasn’t time. She couldn’t ask her sisters to pull extra shifts, that wouldn’t be fair. At least she had her sisters, and didn’t have to reap all day, every day.

Because of her, the rain was screaming. He could hear it in the wind that blew hard drops against his face. He could hear it in the clatter of rain against glass. He could hear it in the drip, drip, drip from the leaking ceiling. He knew she was somewhere, out there, and her howling could be heard in the rain.

He clutched his hands to his ears, trying to block out the noise, but he just couldn’t get it out of his head. The air tried to coalesce around him, shield him from the horrible cries, but he wasn’t powerful enough to block her out. He didn’t know how to find her. He had searched and searched, and yet she was still lost to him.

“Huh.”

Morwena ground her teeth, staring at Yadazel, who stood hunched over the ancient scroll. “Huh? Huh what?”

“It’s nothing,” the wizard said, glancing over at her. “This is just a lot more straightforward than I thought it would be.”

Morwena rested her hand on the handle of her axe, and said nothing. Her glare spoke volumes.

Beep.

“I know, damn it,” Natasha cursed, glancing back at the microwave as she measured out the flour. Why did she always leave everything until the last minute? She dumped the flour into the waiting bowl, and swore again. She still needed the one cup measuring cup, but didn’t want to double-dip in the flour and sugar, which meant she needed to wash it before using it again.

Beep.

“If a spider ends up in my hair because of your little treasure hunt, I’m going to freak out. Just so you know.” Mel’s tone was cheerful, conversational. A little at odds with their surroundings.

Ann glanced back. She didn’t know what Mel was complaining about; Ann was going first, wasn’t she, pushing all the cobwebs down and trying to clear a path?

“You owe me so big,” Mel muttered.