u/Plane_Bee3034

“No, you underestimated me,” I cry out, projecting my voice into the dark cavern.

The dragon before me laughs, bellowing out flames of searing flames. I dodge right, lunging out of the way. My flowing, long hair is singed by the heated air around the flames.

I send another spiral of ice lances towards the dragon, Respira. She bats away at them with one claw as though shooing away an annoying, yet persistent fly.

Before putting my ice shield back up I take a moment to admire his imposing figure.

Standing over 3 meters tall the dragon towered over me. Her golden scales were tipped with red, and heir eyes glowed a menacing amber. Heir crimson wings were pressed up against the edges of the cave. Shards of broken stalactites lay below them. If it were out in the open, I guessed that its wingspan would have been about 8 meters, maybe 9. For just a moment, I let myself yearn to be at home painting this dragon instead of out here fighting it. I must protect the kingdom, I reminded myself.

I requip my shield and dart towards a pillar of stone even farther to my right. Only about two meters. I can make it. I vault over a boulder. My knees graze the top. They burn slightly from the friction. But my arm strength carries me forward. I glance to my left at the dragon. Her figure appears covered in a pale blue sheen from the ice shield. 

She cocks her head back and roars. 

The flames cascade into my ice shield, turning my field of view shades of light blue and white. A puddle of water trickles in on the floor beneath my feet. But though cracked, my shield still stands. The floor before and behind me burns with sparkling red embers. 

I steal myself, and, keeping my shield to my left, I sprint the remaining distance to the pillar. 

My feet thud rhythmically beneath me. They send an echoing thud, thud, thud through the cabin from the weight of my metal armor boots. However even through this, my feet burn. I suppress a wince. My nose wrinkles at the smell of singed leather and flesh that wafts up towards me.

Finally behind the pillar. I position my shield back the way I came.

Another roar follows. 

I hear the creak of stone beginning to crack. But the pillar holds firm. Damn, she’s still firing right at me. The residual heat and flames fans out from the pillar. 

A crack from down the center of my ice shield, sending shards of ice skittering across the ground before me, and thousands of tiny waterfalls cascading down its surface.

It has to regenerate. I’m running out of time.

I duck out from behind the pillar just enough to see the dragon. I send two more volleys of ice towards her rapid fire. Respira bats them away, but more sluggishly this time. I duck back behind the pillar, grabbing my knees and pant to catch my breath. We’re both running out of stamina. I just have to outlast her.

Creak, crack, pop! I hear the crack of the dragon’s bones echo throughout the cabin. Likely the sound of her standing, I knew from experience. And from the volume of the noise I also came to a realization; Oh thank god, she has arthritis. Get to avoid another chase. 

I almost missed the sense of dread that filled me the first time I fought a battle. It was still present, like my arms were dipped in a frigid lake, keeping me sharp. But it was dulled somehow. 

“I’m done with you, this battle will be mine!” I yelled performatively.

I ducked out of the pillar and fired my final volley of ice shards. Most bounced off her scales harmlessly. But one wedged into her glistening yellow eye. 

Respira stood strong. But she appeared to flinch and shudder backwards slightly. She tried to bat at her eye with a claw, but to no avail. The ice shard was edged in, and blood began to pool at the entry wound. The shard dripped down the side of Respira’s face as it melted. Drops of prismatic water bounced down the side of her face as it melted, clear liquid reflecting shades of yellow, orange and red.

It was time. Finally having met the requirements, I drew my ice spear from its sheath. I sprinted towards respira. Thankfully there were only pebbles underfoot, and the ground had cooled to a bearable temperature. 

Five paces away.

Four more paces.

Three paces.

I leap.

Directly towards the eye that I had already injured.

I twist my blade in the air as I fly through the air, reeling my arm back, readying to strike. I had no time to admire its glowing afterimage.

Recognition flashes in Respira’s eyes. She tries to lean away and dodge. And she tries to bat me away with a claw.

Both attempts are too slow. 

I wedge my left foot between two of the scales beneath her eye. And I stab my blade directly into where the previous ice shard left its mark. Respira’s eye exploded into a spray of reddish-bronze blood. It coated my armor and fine particles of it sprayed my face. I suppressed a wince from the heat of it.

The dragon reeled back from the pain. I fell forward and grasped her left horn as I fell. 

I used the momentum to continue falling but held firm to her horn. This allowed me to spin around the ivory horn counterclockwise until I was dangling on her back.

Breath regenerated, she leaned back even more to prepare to roar again, readying herself to scorch everything around her. So that only she could withstand the flames. But I was ready too.

I let go of her horn with my right hand and grasped 

Then with my left I angled the blade and plunged it into the ridge between two of her scales. It plunged into her flesh. A sharp hissing sound emanate from her throat.

The next few moments passed in a blur. More steaming bronze ichor soaked my armor. Respira let out a final, anticlimactic croak. I fell with her. I barely kept my grip on my blade. But I managed, hands sticky and burning. I pulled the sword from Respira with a fleshy squelch. I climbed from the carcass. 

All in a haze. None with the glory I once hoped for.

I trudged from the cavern, shoulders slumped but duty fulfilled. As I neared the exit, I began to see the sun refracted on the rock around me, casting it in an ethereal blue light. The soothing sounds of bird calls and nearby streams returned to focus. 

Catching one such stream slightly down the mountain, I picked my way down the craggy mountain face towards it. Skirting down a small ravine, I could see it in more detail. The gentle rays of the late afternoon sun warmed my back as I trudged over. Bubbling, cool water splashed down past bramble bushes and stones. It sent a gentle sprinkling of white into the air around every stone, every fork in its path.

I busied myself with taking off my armor piece by piece: helmet, boots, every piece individually, and washing them methodically in the churning water. The water rinsed the fresh blood from the metal with ease, and I placed each neatly against a bramble bush along the bank.

With no menial tasks left to distract myself with, I plop down on the shore and dangle my feet in the running water

The water burned, but in a refreshing way. I breathed a sigh of relief, finally letting my eyes unfocus, my fingers relax, and my legs stretch out in the cool running water.

Have to make it back for the festival, they’ll be expecting me. I’ll probably have to give another speech. Maybe a toast too honestly. And get started on the paperwork…

But the kingdom is safe.

Respira burnt down the entire Sevas prefecture. Hundreds died and thousands more would have had they not been evacuated. And thousands more were left without homes.

No one knew Respira’s motives. But this simply wasn’t a risk the kingdom could take. Another prefecture could have been attacked any day. And whose to say it would have been evacuated in time?

The dragon had to be put down. She had to be murdered.

They had to call an ice mage. The only currently active ice mage. And that title lay on her shoulders.

Still, I mourned the loss of a great beast of the Veris mountain range. But what was the life of one creature in the face of a whole kingdom?

Respira had once been worshipped, hailed as one of the great beasts of the kingdom. Her golden visage still adorned temples and taverns alike. Her coiled form still made its way into homes every day in sculptures and engraved into mugs, seen as a harbinger of good luck and prosperity. Though they likely did not know which dragon it was based on, someone was almost certainly haggling for one such figure at this very moment.

But more still, I mourned the loss of my old life. But what was the life of one girl in the face of the whole world?

Being from another world, I was the only one who could wield the ancient ice magic without bodily alterations that would drive me mad.

But this doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I turned to the pale blue sky. I watched the sandy-colored ravens circle above. So alike to the ravens with wings sewn from the night sky I saw back home. But also a constant reminder of the home I had lost.

I will find a way back, I tried to remind myself. But the words felt hollow after so many years of searching.

I yearned for the cozy atmosphere of my art studio, the ferns I would brush past to enter, letting my fingers trace their feathery leaves, the warm smell of oak and birch wood burning in my studio’s fireplace as I worked, the soft purr of my pet cat, Peony, as she lay on the couch beside my work desk, napping peacefully in a patch of sunlight. I yearned for the rush of acrylic on paper when a piece finally began to resemble a reference, of a painting coming together just before a deadline, sharing my art at an exhibition, knowing that I was sharing this piece of myself with others. And that people were listening to this part of me, not just my accomplishments. I longed for the laugh of my best friend, my husband’s warm arms, the chatter of my young daughters. 

I reached out into the stream’s water as though to grasp at something. But nothing was there. Nothing was within reach. 

Except the water whistling past, too quickly to grasp.

Time to get going. 

I pushed myself to my feet and prepared to adorn my armor once again.

Authors note: This was inspired by u/Smartbutt420 on r/WritingPrompts with the prompt "You have been summoned to another world. Once the excitement wears off and you’re alone with your thoughts, there’s one burning question in the back of your mind: Can you go home?"

“No, you underestimated me,” I cry out, projecting my voice into the dark cavern.

The dragon before me laughs, bellowing out flames of searing flames. I dodge right, lunging out of the way. My flowing, long hair is singed by the heated air around the flames.

I send another spiral of ice lances towards the dragon, Respira. She bats away at them with one claw as though shooing away an annoying, yet persistent fly.

Before putting my ice shield back up I take a moment to admire his imposing figure.

Standing over 3 meters tall the dragon towered over me. Her golden scales were tipped with red, and heir eyes glowed a menacing amber. Heir crimson wings were pressed up against the edges of the cave. Shards of broken stalactites lay below them. If it were out in the open, I guessed that its wingspan would have been about 8 meters, maybe 9. For just a moment, I let myself yearn to be at home painting this dragon instead of out here fighting it. I must protect the kingdom, I reminded myself.

I requip my shield and dart towards a pillar of stone even farther to my right. Only about two meters. I can make it. I vault over a boulder. My knees graze the top. They burn slightly from the friction. But my arm strength carries me forward. I glance to my left at the dragon. Her figure appears covered in a pale blue sheen from the ice shield. 

She cocks her head back and roars. 

The flames cascade into my ice shield, turning my field of view shades of light blue and white. A puddle of water trickles in on the floor beneath my feet. But though cracked, my shield still stands. The floor before and behind me burns with sparkling red embers. 

I steal myself, and, keeping my shield to my left, I sprint the remaining distance to the pillar. 

My feet thud rhythmically beneath me. They send an echoing thud, thud, thud through the cabin from the weight of my metal armor boots. However even through this, my feet burn. I suppress a wince. My nose wrinkles at the smell of singed leather and flesh that wafts up towards me.

Finally behind the pillar. I position my shield back the way I came.

Another roar follows. 

I hear the creak of stone beginning to crack. But the pillar holds firm. Damn, she’s still firing right at me. The residual heat and flames fans out from the pillar. 

A crack from down the center of my ice shield, sending shards of ice skittering across the ground before me, and thousands of tiny waterfalls cascading down its surface.

It has to regenerate. I’m running out of time.

I duck out from behind the pillar just enough to see the dragon. I send two more volleys of ice towards her rapid fire. Respira bats them away, but more sluggishly this time. I duck back behind the pillar, grabbing my knees and pant to catch my breath. We’re both running out of stamina. I just have to outlast her.

Creak, crack, pop! I hear the crack of the dragon’s bones echo throughout the cabin. Likely the sound of her standing, I knew from experience. And from the volume of the noise I also came to a realization; Oh thank god, she has arthritis. Get to avoid another chase. 

I almost missed the sense of dread that filled me the first time I fought a battle. It was still present, like my arms were dipped in a frigid lake, keeping me sharp. But it was dulled somehow. 

“I’m done with you, this battle will be mine!” I yelled performatively.

I ducked out of the pillar and fired my final volley of ice shards. Most bounced off her scales harmlessly. But one wedged into her glistening yellow eye. 

Respira stood strong. But she appeared to flinch and shudder backwards slightly. She tried to bat at her eye with a claw, but to no avail. The ice shard was edged in, and blood began to pool at the entry wound. The shard dripped down the side of Respira’s face as it melted. Drops of prismatic water bounced down the side of her face as it melted, clear liquid reflecting shades of yellow, orange and red.

It was time. Finally having met the requirements, I drew my ice spear from its sheath. I sprinted towards respira. Thankfully there were only pebbles underfoot, and the ground had cooled to a bearable temperature. 

Five paces away.

Four more paces.

Three paces.

I leap.

Directly towards the eye that I had already injured.

I twist my blade in the air as I fly through the air, reeling my arm back, readying to strike. I had no time to admire its glowing afterimage.

Recognition flashes in Respira’s eyes. She tries to lean away and dodge. And she tries to bat me away with a claw.

Both attempts are too slow. 

I wedge my left foot between two of the scales beneath her eye. And I stab my blade directly into where the previous ice shard left its mark. Respira’s eye exploded into a spray of reddish-bronze blood. It coated my armor and fine particles of it sprayed my face. I suppressed a wince from the heat of it.

The dragon reeled back from the pain. I fell forward and grasped her left horn as I fell. 

I used the momentum to continue falling but held firm to her horn. This allowed me to spin around the ivory horn counterclockwise until I was dangling on her back.

Breath regenerated, she leaned back even more to prepare to roar again, readying herself to scorch everything around her. So that only she could withstand the flames. But I was ready too.

I let go of her horn with my right hand and grasped 

Then with my left I angled the blade and plunged it into the ridge between two of her scales. It plunged into her flesh. A sharp hissing sound emanate from her throat.

The next few moments passed in a blur. More steaming bronze ichor soaked my armor. Respira let out a final, anticlimactic croak. I fell with her. I barely kept my grip on my blade. But I managed, hands sticky and burning. I pulled the sword from Respira with a fleshy squelch. I climbed from the carcass. 

All in a haze. None with the glory I once hoped for.

I trudged from the cavern, shoulders slumped but duty fulfilled. As I neared the exit, I began to see the sun refracted on the rock around me, casting it in an ethereal blue light. The soothing sounds of bird calls and nearby streams returned to focus. 

Catching one such stream slightly down the mountain, I picked my way down the craggy mountain face towards it. Skirting down a small ravine, I could see it in more detail. The gentle rays of the late afternoon sun warmed my back as I trudged over. Bubbling, cool water splashed down past bramble bushes and stones. It sent a gentle sprinkling of white into the air around every stone, every fork in its path.

I busied myself with taking off my armor piece by piece: helmet, boots, every piece individually, and washing them methodically in the churning water. The water rinsed the fresh blood from the metal with ease, and I placed each neatly against a bramble bush along the bank.

With no menial tasks left to distract myself with, I plop down on the shore and dangle my feet in the running water

The water burned, but in a refreshing way. I breathed a sigh of relief, finally letting my eyes unfocus, my fingers relax, and my legs stretch out in the cool running water.

Have to make it back for the festival, they’ll be expecting me. I’ll probably have to give another speech. Maybe a toast too honestly. And get started on the paperwork…

But the kingdom is safe.

Respira burnt down the entire Sevas prefecture. Hundreds died and thousands more would have had they not been evacuated. And thousands more were left without homes.

No one knew Respira’s motives. But this simply wasn’t a risk the kingdom could take. Another prefecture could have been attacked any day. And whose to say it would have been evacuated in time?

The dragon had to be put down. She had to be murdered.

They had to call an ice mage. The only currently active ice mage. And that title lay on her shoulders.

Still, I mourned the loss of a great beast of the Veris mountain range. But what was the life of one creature in the face of a whole kingdom?

Respira had once been worshipped, hailed as one of the great beasts of the kingdom. Her golden visage still adorned temples and taverns alike. Her coiled form still made its way into homes every day in sculptures and engraved into mugs, seen as a harbinger of good luck and prosperity. Though they likely did not know which dragon it was based on, someone was almost certainly haggling for one such figure at this very moment.

But more still, I mourned the loss of my old life. But what was the life of one girl in the face of the whole world?

Being from another world, I was the only one who could wield the ancient ice magic without bodily alterations that would drive me mad.

But this doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I turned to the pale blue sky. I watched the sandy-colored ravens circle above. So alike to the ravens with wings sewn from the night sky I saw back home. But also a constant reminder of the home I had lost.

I will find a way back, I tried to remind myself. But the words felt hollow after so many years of searching.

I yearned for the cozy atmosphere of my art studio, the ferns I would brush past to enter, letting my fingers trace their feathery leaves, the warm smell of oak and birch wood burning in my studio’s fireplace as I worked, the soft purr of my pet cat, Peony, as she lay on the couch beside my work desk, napping peacefully in a patch of sunlight. I yearned for the rush of acrylic on paper when a piece finally began to resemble a reference, of a painting coming together just before a deadline, sharing my art at an exhibition, knowing that I was sharing this piece of myself with others. And that people were listening to this part of me, not just my accomplishments. I longed for the laugh of my best friend, my husband’s warm arms, the chatter of my young daughters. 

I reached out into the stream’s water as though to grasp at something. But nothing was there. Nothing was within reach. 

Except the water whistling past, too quickly to grasp.

Time to get going. 

I pushed myself to my feet and prepared to adorn my armor once again.

Authors note: This was inspired by u/Smartbutt420 on r/WritingPrompts with the prompt "You have been summoned to another world. Once the excitement wears off and you’re alone with your thoughts, there’s one burning question in the back of your mind: Can you go home?"

Note: Credit to u/Kitty_Fuchs on r/WritingPrompts for the prompt this story is based on: "Magic requires a certain "spark" and if you don't have that, then you will never be able to learn magic. Your girlfriend is missing this spark, thus dooming her dreams of being a witch, but she recently found out that *you* have it and now insists that you take up magic in her stead."

The door to the cabin closes behind me as I shuffle inside, exhausted. I glance down at my hands which are covered to the wrist in charcoal stains. A gentle smile spreads across my face as I take off my jacket and hang it on the wooden coatrack to my right. The sunflowers of my rain poncho seem to smile back at me. Their gentle orange and yellow petals seem to almost glisten in the evening light.

Suddenly I am swept up in my girlfriend’s arms.

She picks me up with ease and swirls me around in a half circle around her. My pale blue dress swirls gently around us as she smiles up at me with her goofy, unrestrained grin.

She places me down and I take a moment to admire her. Her kind brown eyes, her flowing blonde hair with her parting every so slightly to her left, the dimple that appeared every time she smiled. As I pulled away from her, I let my fingers brush softly against the satin-textured skin of her arms.

“How were things at the lab today?”

Cordelia looked down, scratching the back of her head, “Oh you know. Deadlines, deadlines. But at least my code finally runs.” She chucked quietly to herself as she turned and began curving her way through the living room to the kitchen.

I followed just a few steps behind her.

Stepping through the living room I noticed a tarot deck laid out on the wooden coffee table. A fun hobby for most people. But for those able to do magic, it was the best starting point for deciding how to narrow down your craft.

Cordelia must have left these here before I got back from work. She really isn’t letting this go. Best I wait it out, I suppose. 

Entering the kitchen, I saw Cordelia reaching into the cupboard at her eye level and bring out a pack of rosemary crackers. 

Meanwhile, I busied myself with making tea for the both of us.

I tried to focus on questions about Cordelia, asking them rapid-fire in hopes to keep the focus away from me and my ‘spark’ for magic. I asked about milestones in her applied physics lab’s conductivity project, the current team drama within her project, even what lines she changed in her code to get it to start working.

“C’mon, Mags. That’s enough about me. 

“Hey, I can be curious about your day. Your project’s interesting; I don’t know what you want from me,” I chuckled, teasingly. Though I felt a knot in my stomach beginning to build.

“Well, what’s the progress update on your hummingbird series?”

The tension in my shoulders eased slightly.

I eagerly showed her my updated sketches on my phone. She leaned onto my shoulder to look as she had many times before. Tiny strands of her hair fell onto my phone screen and I brushed them out of the way absentmindedly. 

I let myself get absorbed in thoughts of my work. How I wanted to use guasch to turn a hummingbird purple and blue after I finished the charcoal sketch, despite that not being the species’ natural coloring, how I felt I was finally getting used to the proportions of hummingbirds right after weeks of just working on this series of art pieces, how beaks were the hardest part to draw despite seeming the simplest because of their subtle shading. I got particularly engrossed in my most recent piece, though at this point it was only a sketch. I needed to get Cordelia’s take. Was the hibiscus the best choice of flower? What would be a pretty background? Was three birds in one painting too chaotic? But with a sinking feeling of dread, I realized I had begun to repeat myself. And there were no more thoughts to give.”

“And,” she elongated the syllable playfully, “given any thought to trying your hand at magic”

The floor seemed to fall out from under me, “I thought about it, but girl I don’t know that I can.”

“Madeline. You have the spark for magic. I believe in you. I always have.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, love. But I’m not asking you to enroll in the Cypress Academy or go full witch or something. Just that it would be nice for you to give it a try.”

“I want to be able to try magic in your stead, I really do,” I take a deep breath in, “And I know this is really important to you.”

Cordelia cocked her head, “But?”

“But,” I paused to collect myself, “It’s just not worth it to put both of us in danger like that.”

Cordelia’s pace quickened as she spoke, “But it can be done safely. I’ve looked into it. You can look at my section in the library. People have been researching this for hundreds of years. Anyone who gets injured now is because of freak accidents. I can help you. I mean, look, you drive to work every day, right?”

I fixed her with a level stare, “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I know, I know,” Cordelia slumped against the countertop behind her, “And I don’t mean to pressure you. Do you want me to drop it?”

“No, you’re fine. I know you’ve been dreaming about this since you were what? Like nine? Ten? I can never remember but you get my point,” I shook my head at myself.

Cordelia turned to stare out the window at their small vegetable patch, saying nothing.

Finally, she spoke, “Still, that’s not fair to you. Madline, I love you. You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I give myself a moment to collect myself as well. The tomatoes are just beginning to ripen and the basil is growing in nicely. A gentle breeze swayed the leaves of carrot tops. It was shaping up to be a comforting, mild spring.

“Your dreams are my dreams too,” I finally responded. My voice softened, “And, look. Magic is just newer for me. The whole world surrounding magic is too, honestly.”

“I know,” Cordelia turned back to face me, tears in her eyes, “You don’t have to go through with this.”

“Yeah. But I will.”

Author's Note: I wrote this while doing a writing exercise a couple days ago and I felt it had an interesting angle for a haunting story so decided to post it here! Please let me know your feedback, and if you'd like to see a polished version or a part 2. :)

The butterflies danced around her like stars as she lay on the sloped grass of her best friend’s garden. She counted clouds, then ladybugs on her arm, then blades of grass tickling her legs. All to avoid that conversation.

And yet it seemed she could never wait long enough.

When the sun began to dip gently dip behind emily’s house she sat up and watched the shadows creeping gently up the trees behind her.

But when the shadows completely obscured the trees in blankets of dreary haze, it could be delayed no longer. 

She trudged down the gravel path and opened Emily’s screen door.


Yet peering her head inside Emily's living room she found no one there.


She breathed a sigh of relief that Emily was still out.


But she also felt her dread deepen. There is only so long a conversation like this can be delayed, after all.


She snaked her way through the living room towards the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen the warm smell of baked goods encased her in the warm embrace of comfort and home. Emily had made some freshly baked cookies with her just the day before. She remembered how they had smiled and laughed. Jokes ranged from everything from poodles with weird hats to weird shitposts they had found online. Iris had laughed until her stomach hurt, clutching her sides as though that were the only thing preventing her from toppling over with laughter. 

But since the housing incident, she felt she was simply relying on Emily too much.

Her vacant apartment, which she had once made cozy and homey. How rendered dark corners and forgotten bookshelves.

How could she ever tell Emily that the reason she had left her apartment was because it was haunted. That the reason she had been avoiding home wasn’t because of some scorned boyfriend, or some neighbor tussle.

It was a ghost.

Iris, with all her tarot cards and crystals, simply wouldn’t entertain the idea of a real haunting

Or worse yet, she would tell Iris that she told her so.  That there was something beyond her notebooks, late night study sessions, and law degree. But this wasn’t something petty, this was life-threatening.  

She remembered coming home that Sunday evening, reading to rush off the moving books and flickering lights as she always had.

But then the wailing began.

Trying to shake herself from her reverie, Iris attempted to busy herself with Emily’s tea rack. Darling, green tea of all kinds, herbal teas, all perfectly organized. 

They sat in a small metal rack in the corner of Emily’s kitchen, immediately to the left of her herb garden. All with their place. 

She picked a tea from the rack, peach green tea, and set the kettle that had been filled earlier that day to boil. 

“Hey Emily, I know I always give you crap for your horse shit but a ghost is trying to kill me”  

Iris continued to stare at the water continuing to boil. Nope not that.



“Hey bestie!! Hope your classes went well! ANyways there’s a small chance my house might be just a tiny bit haunted”  

Too casual. And too quirky.

“Please you have to let me stay over at your place until I can find a new place.”  

She could just not give Emily the reason, yeah. She had agreed to let her stay in her place with no questions asked when she sent the panicked text on Sunday. And Emily would be too kind to ask questions. With her soft smiles and gentle voice.

But the thought of it put a pit in her stomach. Sure, she didn’t tell emily Everythign. She didn’t tell ehr about why she sprained her ankle in sophomore year of undergrad. Or that she had snuck out of her dorm to see her freshman year friend with benefits and nearly cried after getting in trouble with her RA.

But all the important things? She told Emily.

Sniffling about her first break up, the first exam where she didn’t get an A, arriving ten minutes late to her own presentation. Every missed internship, fight with her parents, night spent crying alone. She told her all of it.

The kettle began to boil. She was so caught up in her thoughts she scarcely noticed Emily come in through the front door. Her reflection on her tea kettle as she slung off her violet side bag and stamped dramatically up the stairs.

The tea kettle began to whistle.

Iris turned, leaning against the marble countertop to face Emily.

“What happened?”

Emily grounded, sliding into a stool on the bar island across from Iris.

“You’ll never believe this dude. Started trving me shit for the courses I was taking during our project discussion. How is that relevant? I’m allowed to take a Physics class whatever my major. I swear.”

“You’re telling me. You work so hard I don’t know what his deal culled be”

“And then he went on this whole rant>”

“What else could he have to day”

“Nono like so much. Started saying I couldn’t have opinions about the slide deck beyond the formatting. Said I was there to be the social glue or something. Why add me to the project if you don’t even want to listen to my opinion?” Emily sighed and slumped down. She paused.

The silence seemed to ground Emily. It allowed her space to ground herself. Iris had learned to respect her silences, no longer jumping to solutions. 

But all the silence did was suffocate Iris. Warm tendrils of dread oozed down her arms. They coated her fingertips. She wanted to pour her tea. To turn off the kettle. To do something. But the black tar spread down to her fingertips, gluing them in place atop the countertop. The sticky indigo  ichor flowed through her veins. And she somehow felt both frozen and skittish. A fly trapped in a spider’s web. And every time she would try and untangle herself she would just get more stuck.

After about a minute, Emily’s gaze moved back from her own hands to Iris’s eyes. Her brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry. I know I don’t normally get like this”

“No it’s not that, I just, well-” Iris’ tongue felt dry.

“I know I got back hours later than usual. And you’re going through it too. I just had to spend those extra hours in the library”

“Yea, I mean of course”

“And well, I had to show them I was putting in the effort. I don’t know. I know I should have texted.”

“No I mean that’s not it. I mean, I have to. Well, you know how I said staying in my apartment was rough?”

“Yeah for sure. Talk to me.”

“Well I had a near miss in my apartment on Sunday.” Iris’s fingers still felt stuck to the counter. Her breaths still came raggedly, without rhythm. 

“A near miss?”

Iris’s words suddenly came to her in a chaotic flood “It’s like when I got that ant colony in my kitchen. I thought it was fine and I had dealt with them you know?” Iris continued, not waiting for an answer. “And then that one day Jack was coming over and she stepped in the fully grown ant nest. ANd I was like I thought I got rid of them and then I hadn’t and then they were back but in a ‘ruin your life and leave no ashes’ way a d I was totally crewed because pest control closed at nine PM and it was already nine thirty-”

“Girl,” Emily cut in, “Tell me what happened”

“Well, something happened, and I don’t. Well, I don’t know what to do”\

“Love I got that” Emily shook her head, “Sorry. Snarky Emily powering off. Hug? I’ll get your tea ready for ya.”

THe warmth of her bestie’s hug and the her smile allowed Iris’s bone oil to liquify enough for her to shuffle her way onto one of the stools.

Soon a warm cup of tea was in front of her and a comforting plate of oatmeal raisin cookies set in front of her with a paper towel as a napkin.

Finally, she felt comforted enough to tell her.

Although not in this order, and instead a much more difficult to piece together one: she told Emily about how at first it was just whispers after an all nighter about her diet when eatin g in the kitchen, how she had to start cutting carbs if she didn’t want to gain weight. How she ahd attributed this to her papers. And to the stress of needing to graduate and find a law firm, all of which Emily already knew about but listened without interruption nonetheless. And then her papers flying around her room. Iris thought that sleeping with the windows closed and turning down her fans would help. And it did, for a time. But then she would wake up with pages scattered across the ground haphazardly. She had considered going to a doctor. Maybe she was sleeptalking. But there was no time with impending deadlines and applications. And so she waited.	

And then came the flickering lights and the slamming doors. This was when Iris stopped having guests over. She cited grumpy neighbors to strangers and acquaintances alike. Except for to Emily, whom she didn’t give a reason.

At this point, she went on a tangent about how this didn’t mean she was insecure in their friendship. How she didn’t tell her out of care for her. Because she wanted to sort things out herself first. Emily provided comfort but brought her back on track at this.

And Iris knew she was right, she had to keep talking about it.

“Well this all seems like a horror movie haunting. But then there was the hair;”  

Iris continued to detail how she had found clumps of hair clogging her sink, her bathroom drain, even strands of hair from her shower nozzle. Maybe a hair loss problem, she had told herself. More sleep and it will all be better. But only one problem

The hairs were blonde.

Iris had black hair.

And even still, she had brushed it off.

“For a whole week!” she scolded herself.

And then came last Sunday. She had returned home as usual. Cleaned up the hair and put it in the trash, as she had for the past few days. Picked up the papers from her floor and sort them into neat stacks, as she had for the past few weeks. Eaten dinner and brushed off the critical whispers, as she had for the past few months.

But then as she was pulling on her pajamas, a faint wailing began to echo around her. And then it goat louder. And louder. Until it creschendo-ed into a near deafening roar with hints of iron and tangy shrieks. 

After a few seconds, it quieted into an ever-present, mournful shriek.

Realizing there was no more ignoring it. It may be carbon monoxide or something but no point in risking her safety, Iris had hurriedly grabbed her bag, shoving laptop, notebooks, charger, all the essentials except a toothbrush and toothpaste into her backpack.

“I’ll spend the night somewhere. A hotel. Maybe. Then I can come back tomorrow and see where things are at. Maybe call someone. I’m not sure who yet but at the very least, a doctor. And I’ll come back and see what things are looking like. Look things over in the daylight. This place is creepy and unsafe though. Have to get out.”

Iris stepped gingerly towards the door of her apartment. She kept her back close to the ball. And passing by the entryway to her bathroom the clung to one door frame then nearly leapt to the other. No safety without a surface behind her. Finally she reached the door to her small one bedroom apartment. 

She opened the old oak door gradually, wincing at every small creak it made on its unoiled hinges. It felt an eternity before she was finally able to wedge the door open enough to squeeze her small frame outside. She slammed the door behind her. And with so much force the wailing seemed to pause for a second. Though she remained sure it was only her imagination. Eternally grateful that she kept her keys on her belt loop.

She made an effort to quickly scurry down the stars from her apartment, as it was the only room in her apartment block on the fifth floor.

Only eleven steps left.

Only ten steps left.

She continued like this, trying to comfort herself with the monotony of it.
Only five steps left.

Before she had processed what was happening. Her stomach lurched. And she fell. The world seemed to spin for a second, a dizzying kaleidoscope of old carpet, musty smells, and unexplained circumstances. 

And then she was at the bottom of the stairs. Grateful that her hands were splayed out in front of her to catch her fall. THe carpet felt like a web of microscopic hairs beneath her fingertips.

It was as though she had tripped on nothing. The feeling of tripping over a lump of something. But she knew she had seen nothing. Her eyes were trained on every step.

Wen Iris returned to reality, Emily was staring at her with open concern.

Iris buried her face in her hands, looking for any way to avoid eye contact.

“Hey hey,” Emily rested her hand on Iris’s  shoulder,”I trust we can figure something out”

“But what’s going on? I don’t understand why- what happened” Iris stammered out, losing her footing in words once again once the waves of her memories receded and reality came crashing back.

“We don’t have to figure out the meaning behind this now. Have you eaten?”

Iris shook her head, numbness creeping in.

“Okay then I’ll make extra soup. You stay here tonight. Then later, we can go together. Check things out, figure out who to call. But not until you have some food in you and you’ve gotten some rest”

“But, it’s not worth it. What if you get hurt? Or what if it’s all in my head?”

“Then it’s better to have two of us. If I’m not there with you I know at some point you’ll try and go alone. And that sort of risk isn’t okay with me.”

Iris nodded, smiling weakly for the first time all day.