So once our store had to accept twelve pallets. Twelve pallets. That’s six more then we’re supposed to hold. Four more then what’s safe. And what was more was it was only JJ and I to do it! We spent hours hauling boxes into the backroom and stacking them up as high as we could. Imagine us taking that big ladder, standing on that unsafe top step, and placing another box onto the tower. That’s how bad it was. Just boxes of Lego stacked a hundred feet in the air. The shelves were sagging from the wight they were so full, and everything else was against the wall. Double stacked even. You know how Ronald is a small normal sized human? He wouldn’t have been able to reach the back we had so much stacked up against the wall. Thankfully me and JJ were skinny enough to get back there.

Now you’d think with so much back there things would get buried and we couldn’t stock, and you’d be right. It was ridiculous. Anyways I remember trying to find something back there and squeezing past a tower of boxes to get to the aisle. Except I hit it. A corner snagged against my body and I felt behind me the wight of it all shift.

I knew right then I was going to die.

I cried out and ducked down, covered my head, and hoped to God he’d save me. I heard everything stacked behind crumble. I felt it fall, but I waited a moment, and then another one, and when I realized, I wasn’t buried looked behind me to see what had happened.

JJ, the man and the legend, had spread his spidery arms as far as he could to hold the falling boxes back. He had somehow managed to hold the falling tower with his back. One arm stabilized it, the other braced himself against the shelf on my other side. He stood straining beneath the weight. He looked down at me.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. Thank you”

“Move. Go CJ. I can’t hold these boxes back forever.”

I scuffed as fast as I could beneath him towards the exit.

“I won’t ever forget you.”

“I’m not done yet. Hhhrrrruuunnggg!”

And JJ showed me a feat of straight I’ve never seen since that day. He pushed the boxes back, knocking them into others, which in turn fell his way. With his other hand he stopped them. His legs buckled under the weight, and with a shot he lifted them back against the wall.

Only JJ had pushed too hard. In trying to save himself he had slammed the towers into the wall, and the old built-back-in-the-fifties architecture couldn’t take it! The wall collapsed! And with it went the towers of sets. All of it fell onto the sales floor and crashed into the support beam! A crack the size of Texas appeared, and every soul in the mall booked it to an exit.

As I ran the entire mall began to rumble. JJ had started a domino effect, and I had only just cleared the door with both stories of the mall collapsed to the ground behind me.

“JJ!” I shouted. “Did he make it out? Did anyone see JJ leave?”

“No!” said my coworkers. “He must still be in there!”

We all immediately ran to the rubble and began to clear it. But we couldn’t shift through the entire mall by ourselves. We couldn’t even get close to the store. It took days for a clean up crew to unbury our store, but when they did they still couldn’t find JJ.

Eventually a new mall and a new Lego store were built. But JJ’s body was never found.

Sometimes, at night, we think we still hear him. If you listen carefully in the back room. I tell you the honest truth. I’ve heard him.

“The people who send shipment is dumb.”

And that’s JJ for you. The myth, the man, and the legend.

San Levi’s Beach Boardwalk was unusually foggy that early dawn. The young fortune teller thought the morning mist strange, but in her odd occupation she saw many strange things. Her and her sisters contributed to the particularness of the place, and of all they had seen fog was nothing to worry about.

What La La did worry about was what might be lurking behind the curtain of clouds. She was sixteen years old and small for her age. So worried was she, that La La nearly ran along the length of the beach, and leapt high into the air whenever an unseen gull cawed. When she did see a figure through the fog approach she would cross to the other side and continue her way at an even faster pace, all the while keeping an eye on the stranger.

The Boardwalk was home to many novelty shops and services, but La La and her sister’s wagons were the most eye catching by far. The three Vardo’s took up the length of the alleyway between the florist and curiosity bookstore. The wagons stood front to back, so that one would travel through them like train cars; although the sisters would never allow a customer to do so. La La and her sisters took their guests in at the door facing the ocean, did whatever service they were to perform, and let them out the same way. The other two wagons were storage, with a space in the middle one for changing costumes.

For while there were three wagons, three sisters, and three different ‘gifts’ between them, there was only one ‘Esmeralda, Seer of stars and Reader of Cards’, which was what the girls and their employer preferred. Esmeralda was a persona each of them could play so long as the sisters kept consistent with their costume and character. This meant only one of them had to work at a time, and then only by appointment for the serious paying guest. The walk ins off the street, if whoever played Esmeralda had the time for them, would likely get the ‘fake’ version of the fortune telling experience; unless the sister working felt fresh enough to freely use her gift for them.

La La swung herself up to the wagon’s back door and took the large key from her pocket. She opened the first lock, entered, and bolted the door behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief. She took a second key from her pocket and unlocked and entered the second wagon. La La did not relock these doors. The wagons were so placed that the doors could only be reached from the porches of the other two, and so needed to be locked only when left for the night. La La took her last key from her pocket, and entered the third wagon.

Before her was the circular covered table and old bookshelves of ‘Esmeralda’s Reading Room’, but in the guest’s chair sat a man sitting so still that La La only noticed him when he unfolded his hands and spread them out in front of him. His presence was so unexpected that La La screamed and fell backwards over her feet to flee from him.

“Do not be afraid, young one,” the man said with so much boyish grin in his voice that La la doubted he was much older than her. “I, the great, uh, Esmealdo, am here to read your fortune.”

The intruder flaunted the skewed veil he wore around his face, the same veil the sisters wore for their act, and that La La had neglected to put away the night before. The chains bounced unevenly off his face, but together with the darkness his identity was hidden well.

“Get out,” La La said picking herself off the floor and feeling for the door handle behind her. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ll call the police!”

“I mean no harm,” the man, boy, said sounding worried now. “Please, won’t you take a seat and let me read your fortune? The stars have aligned! The card’s will reveal your… destiny.”

La La saw a deck of cards in his hands. Her heart stopped, then sped up rapidly. Her desire to get her cards back were so strong that she forgot her fear and lunged out towards them; but the boy was quick, and he leapt out of his chair and around the table away from her.

“Give those back! They were my mother’s!”

“Doubt it,” the boy said giving up entirely on the false voice he had been using. “Shall I read your first card? Behold! The first is-” here he had to hold the card close to his face because of the darkness of the room “-the Joker!”

“It’s called the Fool, you fool! Now give it back!”

The two ran around the table once more, circled back around, then spun around once again. La La tried to climb over the table at him, but she was too slow, and the boy only bolted around to the other side again.

“And the second,” he said drawing another card from the deck. “It the two of hearts! I think that means you’ll find your soul mate.”

La La stopped running. The boy stopped opposite the table from her.

“That’s a standard deck,” La La said.

“I knew that,” the boy said. “This deck’s mine. Brought it from home.”

But La La had stopped listening altogether and had turned her attention to the large

bookshelf by the wagon’s back door. On it were vases, decretive scrolls, and of course several old books. She took the largest and oldest looking from it, flipped open the lock hidden behind the pages, and found inside the glued paper her mother’s tarot deck. The cards fell into her waiting hand, and La La knew simply by the weight every card was there.

Their mother’s deck of tarot cards were special to the three sisters, and it was to retrieve them that La La had braved the morning mist. The cards were not overly valuable, but they were worth taking, and it was what La La had feared the trespasser had found.

“The next is the ten of Clubs,” said the boy flicking the next card off the top of his deck.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure how to read these. Maybe three bad things will happen to you for the next ten days?”

“Get. Out!” La La shouted. She stomped her foot for emphasis, madder now at him for making her think he had stolen her mother’s tarot, then for breaking in and scaring her.

The boy stepped back and felt for the wagon’s front door, never taking his eyes off La La as he did so. The door swung open, the lock either undone or broken, and the boy stepped onto the porch.

“Last card, the Black Joker! That probably means death or something, am I right?”

The boy slammed the door shut as La La hurled the false book at him. It fell to the floor, and as fast as she could, La La locked and bolted the front and back door. La La check the front lock again, reassured herself that it would hold, then sat down shaking at the table. She hugged herself and the deck of tarot to her until she gained control of her nerves. She waited a few more nervous minutes before working up the courage to unlock and open the front door. She saw that it was still misty out, but thankfully there were no signs of the boy.

La La had been about to go inside, but there, folded on the ground before her like an apology, was the veil. She picked it up, felt her face grow hot, and slammed the door behind her.

San Levi’s Beach Boardwalk was unusually foggy that early dawn. The young fortune teller thought the morning mist strange, but in her odd occupation she saw many strange things. Her and her sisters contributed to the particularness of the place, and of all they had seen fog was nothing to worry about.

What La La did worry about was what might be lurking behind the curtain of clouds. She was sixteen years old and small for her age. So worried was she, that La La nearly ran along the length of the beach, and leapt high into the air whenever an unseen gull cawed. When she did see a figure through the fog approach she would cross to the other side and continue her way at an even faster pace, all the while keeping an eye on the stranger.

The Boardwalk was home to many novelty shops and services, but La La and her sister’s wagons were the most eye catching by far. The three Vardo’s took up the length of the alleyway between the florist and curiosity bookstore. The wagons stood front to back, so that one would travel through them like train cars; although the sisters would never allow a customer to do so. La La and her sisters took their guests in at the door facing the ocean, did whatever service they were to perform, and let them out the same way. The other two wagons were storage, with a space in the middle one for changing costumes.

For while there were three wagons, three sisters, and three different ‘gifts’ between them, there was only one ‘Esmeralda, Seer of stars and Reader of Cards’, which was what the girls and their employer preferred. Esmeralda was a persona each of them could play so long as the sisters kept consistent with their costume and character. This meant only one of them had to work at a time, and then only by appointment for the serious paying guest. The walk ins off the street, if whoever played Esmeralda had the time for them, would likely get the ‘fake’ version of the fortune telling experience; unless the sister working felt fresh enough to freely use her gift for them.

La La swung herself up to the wagon’s back door and took the large key from her pocket. She opened the first lock, entered, and bolted the door behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief. She took a second key from her pocket and unlocked and entered the second wagon. La La did not relock these doors. The wagons were so placed that the doors could only be reached from the porches of the other two, and so needed to be locked only when left for the night. La La took her last key from her pocket, and entered the third wagon.

Before her was the circular covered table and old bookshelves of ‘Esmeralda’s Reading Room’, but in the guest’s chair sat a man sitting so still that La La only noticed him when he unfolded his hands and spread them out in front of him. His presence was so unexpected that La La screamed and fell backwards over her feet to flee from him.

“Do not be afraid, young one,” the man said with so much boyish grin in his voice that La la doubted he was much older than her. “I, the great, uh, Esmealdo, am here to read your fortune.”

The intruder flaunted the skewed veil he wore around his face, the same veil the sisters wore for their act, and that La La had neglected to put away the night before. The chains bounced unevenly off his face, but together with the darkness his identity was hidden well.

“Get out,” La La said picking herself off the floor and feeling for the door handle behind her. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ll call the police!”

“I mean no harm,” the man, boy, said sounding worried now. “Please, won’t you take a seat and let me read your fortune? The stars have aligned! The card’s will reveal your… destiny.”

La La saw a deck of cards in his hands. Her heart stopped, then sped up rapidly. Her desire to get her cards back were so strong that she forgot her fear and lunged out towards them; but the boy was quick, and he leapt out of his chair and around the table away from her.

“Give those back! They were my mother’s!”

“Doubt it,” the boy said giving up entirely on the false voice he had been using. “Shall I read your first card? Behold! The first is-” here he had to hold the card close to his face because of the darkness of the room “-the Joker!”

“It’s called the Fool, you fool! Now give it back!”

The two ran around the table once more, circled back around, then spun around once again. La La tried to climb over the table at him, but she was too slow, and the boy only bolted around to the other side again.

“And the second,” he said drawing another card from the deck. “It the two of hearts! I think that means you’ll find your soul mate.”

La La stopped running. The boy stopped opposite the table from her.

“That’s a standard deck,” La La said.

“I knew that,” the boy said. “This deck’s mine. Brought it from home.”

But La La had stopped listening altogether and had turned her attention to the large

bookshelf by the wagon’s back door. On it were vases, decretive scrolls, and of course several old books. She took the largest and oldest looking from it, flipped open the lock hidden behind the pages, and found inside the glued paper her mother’s tarot deck. The cards fell into her waiting hand, and La La knew simply by the weight every card was there.

Their mother’s deck of tarot cards were special to the three sisters, and it was to retrieve them that La La had braved the morning mist. The cards were not overly valuable, but they were worth taking, and it was what La La had feared the trespasser had found.

“The next is the ten of Clubs,” said the boy flicking the next card off the top of his deck.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure how to read these. Maybe three bad things will happen to you for the next ten days?”

“Get. Out!” La La shouted. She stomped her foot for emphasis, madder now at him for making her think he had stolen her mother’s tarot, then for breaking in and scaring her.

The boy stepped back and felt for the wagon’s front door, never taking his eyes off La La as he did so. The door swung open, the lock either undone or broken, and the boy stepped onto the porch.

“Last card, the Black Joker! That probably means death or something, am I right?”

The boy slammed the door shut as La La hurled the false book at him. It fell to the floor, and as fast as she could, La La locked and bolted the front and back door. La La check the front lock again, reassured herself that it would hold, then sat down shaking at the table. She hugged herself and the deck of tarot to her until she gained control of her nerves. She waited a few more nervous minutes before working up the courage to unlock and open the front door. She saw that it was still misty out, but thankfully there were no signs of the boy.

La La had been about to go inside, but there, folded on the ground before her like an apology, was the veil. She picked it up, felt her face grow hot, and slammed the door behind her.

The Pathless is a newly released game for the PS4 and PS5 made by Giant Squid Studios. To be clear the Pathless is a game very much worth the 39.99 if you like open world puzzle solving, nature, and exploring beautifully and freely in a way like no other game before it; but you should not expect it to be the powerful silent stories such as ABZU and Journey.

If you are familiar with the two other game Giant Squid’s directed, you will no doubt see similarities with its art style and story structure. ABZU’S influence can be seen everywhere, which is one of the game pluses. As the Archer you explore five different lands rescuing the sprits of five different animals, on your quest to bring light back to the world.

The difference between The Pathless and it’s predecessors is it’s best feature; the game play. The Pathless lives up to it’s name, as you are in complete control of where you go and do. There is essentially no hand holding, and it is up to you to use your ‘vision’ to help guide you around the steeps. The Archer shoots targets as she run, jumps, and flies. Moving is a joy and made me think of fondly of Gravity Rush in terms of The Pathless’s freedom and detail.

As someone who loves puzzles, I was overjoyed with how diverse and interactive the mysteries of the many ruins of the world. Often I had to explore more or give great thought to the tasks, but not once was I ever stopped or frustrated for being unable to solve. The Pathless is a fair game, but also a forgiving one. It makes clear how it’s puzzles work early on, and from then on you have the tools to solve them yourself.

It’s forgiveness also help when it comes to the combat of the game. The boss fights are essentially a combination of running, jumping, shooting, and occasionally quick time events. Like the fast-passed exploration, the battles are also streamlined to be quick and action driven. You cannot, however, die. At worst you will be knocked out of a ring and let recover until you chose to continue, or else you will simply fall behind a target or need to repeat an event from a short time ago.

Now as for the story I found it to be lacking when compared to the silent master pieces of ABZU and Journey. The end has emotion to it, and I enjoyed it, but The Pathless’s voice acting written lore works against the game. Not because any of it is done badly, but because it adds little more then what I could discern simply by what I saw happen in the game. If anything, uncovering the lore raised more questions then answers and robbed me of any vagueness I could use to imagine the story myself. I am all for branching out, and Giant Squid has done incredible jobs with their mechanics and gameplay, but a studio with such a good track record and style could have easily handled the plot and story without words. That style is a strength of theirs, and they weren’t far off from it already. Knowing less about the Godslayer would have made him more believable, and easily he was the worst part of this magnificent game.

The Pathless takes much of what works and what is fun and runs full tilt with it. Depending on how you like to play I have no doubt you will enjoy the time it takes you to play.

#gaming #review #nospoliers #myopion #ThePathless #ps4 #ps5

The Pathless is a newly released game for the PS4 and PS5 made by Giant Squid Studios. To be clear the Pathless is a game very much worth the 39.99 if you like open world puzzle solving, nature, and exploring beautifully and freely in a way like no other game before it; but you should not expect it to be the powerful silent stories such as ABZU and Journey.

If you are familiar with the two other game Giant Squid's directed, you will no doubt see similarities with its art style and story structure. ABZU’S influence can be seen everywhere, which is one of the game pluses. As the Archer you explore five different lands rescuing the sprits of five different animals, on your quest to bring light back to the world.

The difference between The Pathless and it’s predecessors is it’s best feature; the game play. The Pathless lives up to it’s name, as you are in complete control of where you go and do. There is essentially no hand holding, and it is up to you to use your ‘vision’ to help guide you around the steeps. The Archer shoots targets as she run, jumps, and flies. Moving is a joy and made me think of fondly of Gravity Rush in terms of The Pathless’s freedom and detail.

As someone who loves puzzles, I was overjoyed with how diverse and interactive the mysteries of the many ruins of the world. Often I had to explore more or give great thought to the tasks, but not once was I ever stopped or frustrated for being unable to solve. The Pathless is a fair game, but also a forgiving one. It makes clear how it’s puzzles work early on, and from then on you have the tools to solve them yourself.

It’s forgiveness also help when it comes to the combat of the game. The boss fights are essentially a combination of running, jumping, shooting, and occasionally quick time events. Like the fast-passed exploration, the battles are also streamlined to be quick and action driven. You cannot, however, die. At worst you will be knocked out of a ring and let recover until you chose to continue, or else you will simply fall behind a target or need to repeat an event from a short time ago.

Now as for the story I found it to be lacking when compared to the silent master pieces of ABZU and Journey. The end has emotion to it, and I enjoyed it, but The Pathless’s voice acting written lore works against the game. Not because any of it is done badly, but because it adds little more then what I could discern simply by what I saw happen in the game. If anything, uncovering the lore raised more questions then answers and robbed me of any vagueness I could use to imagine the story myself. I am all for branching out, and Giant Squid has done incredible jobs with their mechanics and gameplay, but a studio with such a good track record and style could have easily handled the plot and story without words. That style is a strength of theirs, and they weren’t far off from it already. Knowing less about the Godslayer would have made him more believable, and easily he was the worst part of this magnificent game.

The Pathless takes much of what works and what is fun and runs full tilt with it. Depending on how you like to play I have no doubt you will enjoy the time it takes you to play.

#gaming #review #nospoliers #myopion #ThePathless #ps4 #ps5

There once was a boy who was lighter than air.

Mind you, he wasn’t always, but he did begin his life floating up to the ceiling with his mother, his father, and all the nurses in attendance staring up at him in astonishment. Thankfully one of them had the sense to shut the window before the breeze could blow him through it, and they quickly fetched him down.

Now you might imagine that it was hard to raise a baby who was in danger of floating away, but there was a very easy solution. His mother and father simply tied a length of cord around one of his legs and the other end around their own wrist. They always held him tightly to them back in those days, but if for any reason the baby were to slip free he would simply bob up to the end of the line and bounce around like a balloon. The baby actually found his quite funny when it happened.

But his parents were terribly careful to keep their baby boy inside their house as much as they could. They were nervous about the cord snapping or slipping off him, and on the few occasions they had no choice but to take boy with them to the store others would stare at him and the cord around his leg. His parents felt so self-conscious about it they would keep their heads down and hurry home.

It wasn’t long after one of these times that the father thought of another idea to keep his son from floating away.

“Wife, one day our boy will want learn to walk like other children. He can’t do that up in the air, and besides, we would feel much better if he could just stay on the ground like normal boys. I will make a pair of shoes for him with lead beads in the heels. The wight will keep him earthbound.”

“But we’d be trusting his safety to a pair of laces!” said the boy’s mother. “He’ll slip out of his shoes and rise up into the sky and then we’ll never see him again.”

“It won’t only be shoes that keep him aground,” said the father. “I will make for him a jacket, and shirts, and pants all with wights sewn into every hem! Why, we’ll weigh him down so much he won’t be able to jump!”

Now the boy’s parents were determined to do this for their son, but it took a long time before they could manage it. For one thing their baby boy, who was always smiling and giggling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, detested wearing cloths of any kind. Socks were a particular annoyance of his, and the baby boots his father forced him on him were torturous. A child that young couldn’t understand why his parents did what they did. He just knew he didn’t like it, and that the only way he could be made to understand, was to cry.

It was at this point in the boy’s life that the weather took a strange turn for the worse. Loving mother’s notice things about their children, but even the most uninvolved parent would have noticed storms blew in whenever the boy cried. Up to that point the skies had been abnormally clear and beautiful, and after dark and wet. The mother decided to test if her son was the reason for the change or not.

On Monday she left her boy mostly undressed and babbling happily and free on the ceiling of their house. Together they enjoyed the sunshine, but the next day she took her son down and dressed him in his weighted clothes, and sure enough the baby cried all morning and for the rest of the day a storm thundered and boomed and bellowed.

The day after the mother let her son float around freely and again the skies were returned to being calm. But on Thursday he was dressed, and his parents were forced to shelter inside as a storm and their son raged. His mother was afraid and no longer sure what to do.

“This changes nothing,” said her husband. “All children throw tantrums, and all children must learn. If we do not keep him safe and teach him how we will lose him forever when he learns how to open the door or window! Will we keep him locked up home all his life because he cries? No. I will not do that to my son.”

And so the father forced his son to wear the weighted cloths, despite the never-ending storm that raged around the house as the boy learned to walk on his own two feet. The boy was not at all happy during that time, but all children grow tired of being upset, and the boy eventually got over it and gave walking upright some real effort until he learned the trick of it. As soon as he could walk he ran, and his parents had a hard time keeping up with him. When the boy ran he smiled, and when he smiled the storm outside lifted.

So years pasted and Sky, since that was what the baby boy’s parents named him, grew to be a child of ten. By that time Sky had learned how to walk, and run, and act in all other ways like any other child might; but if ever Sky took off his weighted clothes he would lift off from the ground and float around happily until one of his parents could pull him back down again.

Now despite his parent’s warnings and their worry to never float around outside, Sky could not help himself but be wonder about what he could do. He could not answer why he could float anymore then his parents could, but he was determined to learn how. He was not foolish enough to attempt anything outside, but for an hour each day after school he would run home and experiment before his mother returned from the market.

Sky began cautiously, taking off one of his shoes and hopping around on one foot. He could not fly or float, but he was close to weightlessness and found himself able to glide down the hallway without touching the ground. Then he took off his other shoe and found himself standing against the roof.

Day after day he did things like this, sometimes discarding his jacket, or socks, or belt. He tried every possible combination and learned how much wight were sewn into his cloths, and how much he needed to wear to keep him on the ground. He secretly watched his father make his new clothes when he grew too big for his old ones, and Sky thought he could adjust the wight in them himself later when no one was looking.

Sky wanted to wear just enough wight to keep him from flying away, but just little enough so that he could kick around and float like the men on the moon. Sky thought it would be enormous fun, as long as he didn’t fly up to the moon himself. His parents didn’t have enough money to send a rocket up to bring him back down, and he thought he’d be terribly lonely if no astronauts were up there to talk to.

Experimenting and working in secret this way took longer than Sky would have liked, he was generally impatient as most children are, but he knew the importance of what he did. His parents would have never allowed it if they had known, but one day when they were both busy doing something or other Sky crept out of the house wearing the weighted cloths he had made himself. He could hardly feel the ground beneath him. With a smile on his face, and one powerful kick to the ground, he ascended into the air.

It was many days before Sky came back down.

There once was a boy who was lighter than air.

Mind you, he wasn’t always, but he did begin his life floating up to the ceiling with his mother, his father, and all the nurses in attendance staring up at him in astonishment. Thankfully one of them had the sense to shut the window before the breeze could blow him through it, and they quickly fetched him down.

Now you might imagine that it was hard to raise a baby who was in danger of floating away, but there was a very easy solution. His mother and father simply tied a length of cord around one of his legs and the other end around their own wrist. They always held him tightly to them back in those days, but if for any reason the baby were to slip free he would simply bob up to the end of the line and bounce around like a balloon. The baby actually found his quite funny when it happened.

But his parents were terribly careful to keep their baby boy inside their house as much as they could. They were nervous about the cord snapping or slipping off him, and on the few occasions they had no choice but to take boy with them to the store others would stare at him and the cord around his leg. His parents felt so self-conscious about it they would keep their heads down and hurry home.

It wasn’t long after one of these times that the father thought of another idea to keep his son from floating away.

“Wife, one day our boy will want learn to walk like other children. He can’t do that up in the air, and besides, we would feel much better if he could just stay on the ground like normal boys. I will make a pair of shoes for him with lead beads in the heels. The wight will keep him earthbound.”

“But we’d be trusting his safety to a pair of laces!” said the boy’s mother. “He’ll slip out of his shoes and rise up into the sky and then we’ll never see him again.”

“It won’t only be shoes that keep him aground,” said the father. “I will make for him a jacket, and shirts, and pants all with wights sewn into every hem! Why, we’ll weigh him down so much he won’t be able to jump!”

Now the boy’s parents were determined to do this for their son, but it took a long time before they could manage it. For one thing their baby boy, who was always smiling and giggling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, detested wearing cloths of any kind. Socks were a particular annoyance of his, and the baby boots his father forced him on him were torturous. A child that young couldn’t understand why his parents did what they did. He just knew he didn’t like it, and that the only way he could be made to understand, was to cry.

It was at this point in the boy’s life that the weather took a strange turn for the worse. Loving mother’s notice things about their children, but even the most uninvolved parent would have noticed storms blew in whenever the boy cried. Up to that point the skies had been abnormally clear and beautiful, and after dark and wet. The mother decided to test if her son was the reason for the change or not.

On Monday she left her boy mostly undressed and babbling happily and free on the ceiling of their house. Together they enjoyed the sunshine, but the next day she took her son down and dressed him in his weighted clothes, and sure enough the baby cried all morning and for the rest of the day a storm thundered and boomed and bellowed.

The day after the mother let her son float around freely and again the skies were returned to being calm. But on Thursday he was dressed, and his parents were forced to shelter inside as a storm and their son raged. His mother was afraid and no longer sure what to do.

“This changes nothing,” said her husband. “All children throw tantrums, and all children must learn. If we do not keep him safe and teach him how we will lose him forever when he learns how to open the door or window! Will we keep him locked up home all his life because he cries? No. I will not do that to my son.”

And so the father forced his son to wear the weighted cloths, despite the never-ending storm that raged around the house as the boy learned to walk on his own two feet. The boy was not at all happy during that time, but all children grow tired of being upset, and the boy eventually got over it and gave walking upright some real effort until he learned the trick of it. As soon as he could walk he ran, and his parents had a hard time keeping up with him. When the boy ran he smiled, and when he smiled the storm outside lifted.

So years pasted and Sky, since that was what the baby boy's parents named him, grew to be a child of ten. By that time Sky had learned how to walk, and run, and act in all other ways like any other child might; but if ever Sky took off his weighted clothes he would lift off from the ground and float around happily until one of his parents could pull him back down again.

Now despite his parent’s warnings and their worry to never float around outside, Sky could not help himself but be wonder about what he could do. He could not answer why he could float anymore then his parents could, but he was determined to learn how. He was not foolish enough to attempt anything outside, but for an hour each day after school he would run home and experiment before his mother returned from the market.

Sky began cautiously, taking off one of his shoes and hopping around on one foot. He could not fly or float, but he was close to weightlessness and found himself able to glide down the hallway without touching the ground. Then he took off his other shoe and found himself standing against the roof.

Day after day he did things like this, sometimes discarding his jacket, or socks, or belt. He tried every possible combination and learned how much wight were sewn into his cloths, and how much he needed to wear to keep him on the ground. He secretly watched his father make his new clothes when he grew too big for his old ones, and Sky thought he could adjust the wight in them himself later when no one was looking.

Sky wanted to wear just enough wight to keep him from flying away, but just little enough so that he could kick around and float like the men on the moon. Sky thought it would be enormous fun, as long as he didn't fly up to the moon himself. His parents didn't have enough money to send a rocket up to bring him back down, and he thought he'd be terribly lonely if no astronauts were up there to talk to.

Experimenting and working in secret this way took longer than Sky would have liked, he was generally impatient as most children are, but he knew the importance of what he did. His parents would have never allowed it if they had known, but one day when they were both busy doing something or other Sky crept out of the house wearing the weighted cloths he had made himself. He could hardly feel the ground beneath him. With a smile on his face, and one powerful kick to the ground, he ascended into the air.

It was many days before Sky came back down.

Joe McIntyre waited below and out of sight of the security camera. The grocery store, much like the one he worked at during the day, had closed hours ago. Occasionally light from a passing car shown through the front window and cast the shelves’ shadows over each other. Otherwise it was dark. Joe stayed motionless. He hadn’t moved in hours, but stillness was a unique skill of his.

Though Joe’s second job paid less than his grocery store one, he found it far more important. Unfortunately is would likely never pay the rent.

A small noise from the next aisle over was all the warning he had. Joe leapt to his feet and rounded the corner. A girl, no older than eight and as thin as bones, had her arms full of all the meat she could carry. She hadn’t seen Joe in the darkness; and had turned to Walk away.

She took two quick steps, then crashed directly into the shelves.

The girl cried out and fell on her butt. The meat she held scattered across the floor, and blindly she reached to collect them.

“Hello,” said Joe in what he hoped was a friendly way .

The girl’s head whipped around to stare at Joe, or at least where his voice had come from. He wasn’t sure if she could see him or not, but he put his hands up peacefully just in case.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “But I can’t let you keep stealing Mr. Garcia’s food either.”

The girl said nothing. She was motionless. Her hand frozen on top the package she had reached for.

“Look,” Joe said slowly taking a glass container out of the bag he had brought with him. “I made this for you. A nice homecooked meal. You don’t have to steal anything tonight. Why don’t we put this all back and have a nice little chat together?”

The girl said nothing. Then she chucked the meat she was holding at him and leapt to her feet. She would have turn and ran, but Joe had already lunged forward and grabbed ahold of her. The girl screamed and hit him. She was so small however Joe hardly felt the blows. Quickly he grabbed both her hands in one of his, and with his other hand covered her eyes. The girl tried to bite him.

Joe focused on his studio apartment. He knew exactly where in the wide-open room he wanted to go, and holding the girl to him, Walked.

In a single step, from the store’s darkness to Joe well-lit apartment, the two traveled. Once their Joe immediately let the girl go. She turned to run but froze when she realized she was no longer in the store. Joe placed himself between her and the only door. Fearfully the girl turned to look at him.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, but I need to talk with you.” Joe said. “You’re a Walker like I am, aren’t you?”

The girl said nothing. She took a few running steps one way, and then the other. She looked around and sprinted to the bathroom door. It was locked.

Joe knelt and looked at the girl on her own level across the room.

“You and I are the same,” he said. “We’re Walkers. We can go anywhere in the world we want, that is, as long as no one sees us do it.”

The girl stayed silent. She was obviously still scared, but she now completely still. Her muscles frozen. She had become stock-still, and Joe took it as a good sign. Not moving was a trait they shared with each other. After a full minute had gone by without her blinking Joe became hopeful. It was not proof she was a Walker like him, but it was a very good sign.

“My name is Joe McIntyre,” he said. “I work at the Green Grocer most days, but in my free time I run a supernatural detective, craftsman, and consulting service. The store manager caught you on camera and hired me to exorcise you, he thought you were a ghost, but when I saw you on film I knew what you were. You’re a Walker. Like me.”

The girl continued to say nothing. Joe sighed. He stood up and walked over to his table and sat down. From his bag he pulled the leftovers of his dinner last night and dumped them out on the plates he had already set.

“You can still have this food,” he said. “But only if you eat it with me at the table.”

The girl’s eyes flicked to him, then she cautiously approached the table.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs,” Joe said. “It’s one of the few meals I know how to make. I have milk in the refrigerator too, if you want it.”

The girl froze again, this time eyeing the door. Joe watched her, sure that he could out race her again if she tried to run for it, but then she spoke in a very small voice. “Please, can I go now. Sir?”

It was a fair question, and not one Joe was sure he could say no to. He had only wanted to talk with her, find out more about himself through her, but he was suddenly aware he had abducted this child. The thought made him uncomfortable. He felt himself become still as he studied her, then asked. “Don’t you want to eat? Your so thin it looks like you haven’t had a meal in weeks.

“Please,” the girl said again. “I won’t steal from that store anymore. I need to go.”

Joe put down his fork. This meeting wasn’t going at all like he expected, and far from how he hoped.

“Where do you need to go?”

The girl opened her mouth, but then shut it and said nothing.

“Actually,” said Joe. “Why are you starved if you’ve been stealing months’ worth of meat every other night?”

The girl looked down. Her black tangled hair hid her face from him. She took a few steps forward, then looked at Joe.

“Please stop looking at me. I need to go.”

“Go where?”

The girl became still and silent again.

“Fine,” said Joe leaning back in his chair. “You can go, but only after you eat something and promise me you won’t steal from that store again.”

“But I already promised.”

Joe realized that she had and waved her to take her seat across the table from him.

The girl remained quiet, but she did slide into the spot and look down at her food with hungry eyes. She glanced once at Joe, then picked up her fork and dug in. Joe smiled and watched her devour the plate of spaghetti. He might not learn anything about himself or his power tonight, but he could take some comfort in completing his job and feeding this starving girl. If only he could get her to open up to him.

“Where’s the milk?” the girl asked after leaving the meatballs but slurping up every noodle she’d been given.

“The refrigerator. Do you not like meatballs?” Joe asked. He had given her a larger helping of them assuming she like anything meaty. He quickly counted them and found she hadn’t eaten a single one.

The girl said nothing as she poured herself a glass. She return the carton to the fridge, sat down, and took a large mouthful of milk. Then she spat it all at Joe’s face.

Joe stood up and cursed. The milk stung his eyes and he shut them relexify. He wiped them clear, but when he opened his eyes he found the girl was gone. She had Walked away, and taken her plate of meatballs with her.

Joe didn’t move a muscle for a full minute. Then he kicked a chair over in anger and plopped himself down on his couch. He held his head in his hands.

He’d screwed up. Joe had never known why he could Walk, but the only other person who could had left without answers. She wouldn’t go back to the market ever again. Joe had no idea where to look for her, and it’d be impossible now to search for her. He hadn’t even learned her name. Just that she stole more then she could possibly eat and didn’t seem to eat it anyways.

“Why take my plate of meatballs?” he asked himself out loud.

Joe sat up. That was the real mystery, and he felt something about the word ‘meatballs’, which he found odd. His instincts were telling him to investigate, and so he turned on his laptop.

His laptop, which was near and dear to him, was also nine years old. It had been high quality at the time and also the most expensive gift Joe had ever given himself. It was reliable, if slow, though Joe hardly ever noticed the wait. Now however his gut was rushing him, and he wished his laptop was faster.

As he pulled up pages his mind began to workout why the word ‘meatballs’ stood out to him. As a self-employed supernatural detective he was familiar and fascinated with myths and legends, none of which would involve meatballs. He thought that perhaps he’d read something about a monster that stole or feed on meat, but that was the wrong path of thought too.

Something made him look back at the online message that had started this job. It hadn’t been a direct offer from Mr. Garcia, he hardly knew how work the decade old security cameras in his store, much less anything on the internet. The post he said had come from a friend, but it was the username that Joe found odd. It was: MEAT8411sWalker.

8411, was BALL in Leet speak, which made the name essentially MeatballWalker. Joe remembered being curious about the name because he called himself a Walker, but now he was interested in the first half of the name. Why did it stand out to him again? He didn’t see a clue here for him to find, but still his gut told him that there was. How did this tell him anything about the girl?

If he assumed it meant something, and that MeatballWalker referred to the girl, then what did he have left? Nothing, so his thoughts weren’t right. Broken a different way, it could mean ‘meat’ ‘ball’ and ‘Walker’. If ‘Meat’ was a code for the girl, and ‘Walker’ a code for himself, that just left him with ‘ball’. No, not ‘ball’, 8411. Four digits. A house number?

A quick internet search told him there was a house listed under that in San Levi just across the street from Faust’s Family Beach Boardwalk. He didn’t know if that was important, but where would a young homeless girl want to live more then next to an amusement park.

Joe decided to look into it and began to pace and concentrate on the open street in front of that address. He’d seen it a time or two before, but he found he couldn’t Walk. Someone must be watching the street for some reason. No matter, Joe would Walk to the boardwalk.

A couple more steps, and Joe found himself still in his apartment. Who was watching the boardwalk this late at night? He tried again. He failed again.

Joe tried to think of an enclosed space hidden from public eyes. He didn’t have one though. He might have tried the stores, restaurants, or bathrooms, but if they were closed he may have to break out of them like a common thief, and since for some reason eyes were watching the boardwalk he was sure to be discovered.

An idea occurred to him. leading to one bathroom was a hallway-

-and Joe Walked into it. It was pitch dark except for the moonlight shinning ahead of him at the entrance. Joe grinned and then ran. He came out of the boardwalk’s lower courtyard where the kiddy rides were and turned up the path towards the main park. He expected to see at least a few people there, but what he found was a crowd.

Children were crying, old folks shivered, and married couples held each other’s hands. All of them were in pajamas or bathrobes, huddled around each other and speaking fearfully. Joe was about to ask someone what was going on, but then he saw the flames. They came from the other side of the rollercoaster, where the house address Joe had been running to was.

“Sir,” a police officer said when Joe pushed his way past the crowd to the boardwalk’s entrance. “We’re doing all we can but-”

“Have you seen a little girl?” Joe asked. “Thin, white ratty jacket, maybe eight years old?”

“They’re doing all they can to reach her sir,” said the man. “You need to have faith and trust us to get her out of there.”

“There? You don’t mean she’s in that inferno!”

The officer hesitated, but it was enough answer for Joe. He tried to lunge past him, but the officer pushed him back.

“It isn’t safe!”

“That’s why I have to get her out!”

“You would only burn, and what good would that do anyone? Leave this to the professionals.”

The two stared at each other. Then Joe clenched his teeth and turned right around and ran back the way he’d came. The girl was a Walker just like he was. She wouldn’t need help escaping a burning building, but that was only if she was being careful. She had run in plain view of people into the flames however, which was decidedly dangerous.

Joe sprinted across the boardwalk onto the beach. From his own experience Joe knew it took very little to Walk under normal conditions, but he also knew things could stop him. If he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t physically take a step. What if breathing enough smoke was enough to prevent her from Walking, even if she wanted to.

He didn’t stop running until his feet felt water and he could crash into the ocean’s surf. He rolled in it once, then stood up and ran alone the coast.

“The entrance,” Joe said wadding through the water. “8411. The hall, the courtyard, the, the lobby, a bedroom-”

-Joe had never been there before, which meant his aim may be off, but the suddenly darkened ocean disappeared from sight. Light engulfed him. Then heat. Fire danced and crackled around him. Joe held up his soaking wet jacket sleeve to his face and tried not to breath in smoke. Any way he turned his face hurt from the heat of the flames. He bent it down and near blindly started forwards.

“Walker!” he shouted. “Little girl! Where are you!”

A wooden beam behind him cracked and toppled over. A shower of sparks and flames washed over him. Joe hunched down and crouched, and over the sound of everything, he thought he heard a voice.

“Get out of here!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

This time Joe was sure he heard the little girl’s scream. He ran through the fire towards it. His cloths hissed as the flames licked him. He continued to shout. The girl answered him sometimes, calling “Joe! Joe! Over here!” or else pleading with someone else named Sally to come to her. Joe hoped Sally was a firefighter who had happened to find her first. But with how the building was he wasn’t sure they’d be able to leave without Walking.

At last Joe entered the room and found the girl. She was safe, but stood alone and scared in the center of the room. All around her the furniture burned, but she had her eyes turned upwards.

“What are you doing here?” Joe shouted as he took hold of her. “We could die!”

The girl struck him with her fists, but Joe didn’t let go.

“I can’t go without Sally!”

“Where is she?”

The girl pointed up at the chandelier above her. Joe looked up and gasped.

His mind hadn’t understood, wouldn’t have understood, if the girl hadn’t pointed it out. When he had entered the room he had only seen flames on top of the light fixture. Now he saw something else.

The creature had the talons of a large parrot, and feathers that burned and glowed like flames around it. The monster’s mouth had two rows of teeth like a shark’s, and its eyes were large and bright yellow with black slits. It squawked and hissed and spat like the around them. It flapped its great wings, and the fire around them burned higher. Embers fell on the girl and Joe, and she screamed as Joe tried to pat and put them out.

“What is that thing?” Joe asked her.

“That’s Sally! She’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend is going to kill you!”

“She’s sad! She needs me!”

Joe pulled on the girl, but the she scrammed, and the creature above flapped its wings. The fire around them burned brighter and hotter, and Joe let go of the girl.

“You won’t leave without that thing? Fine! Keep staring at it then!”

Joe stepped away from her, and as her eyes left him, Walked into the sea.

This time it was deep water. The flames had become unbearably warm, but now he was instantly cool. He wasn’t sure how deep below he was, but it hurt his ears as he felt himself sink down and touch the sandy ocean bottom.

Joe reached across himself and slid his jacket off his arms. He grabbed it in both hands. Took a step forward, and-

-flung the drenched duster up into the air. It spread outwards and wrapped around the creature like a new. The creature hissed, both in anger and physically as it struggled with the wet cloth. The girl spun around in surprise. Above her the creature lost its grip on the chandelier and fell to the ground just behind her.

“Sally!”

Joe moved quicker than the girl could and tackled the creature beneath the coat. The thing was angry, but blind, trapped, and ultimately not stronger than a determined man over twice its size. After a brief struggle Joe was able to hold the creature with just one arm. When the girl rushed to help it, Joe wrapped his other arm around her head.

With both their eyes covered Joe Walked them out of the fire and into the living room of his apartment. He released the girl but kept held of the struggling creature in his coat. His jacket was smoking and growing hot from the creature’s fire, but it held together long enough to unlock the bathroom door and toss the bundle onto the floor of his shower.

“You can’t!” said the girl trying to pull Joe’s hand away from the nozzle. “You’ll kill her!”

Joe ignored her and turned the shower on for a short quick blast. The creature flapped and the jacket was nearly no more, and so Joe blasted it with water again. The thing cried, shrank, but flapped its wings and embers up at the two of them. Joe hit it with water again. The creature cried out in pain, and so far had it shrunk that it was no larger than a baby chick.

“Stop it, stop it please,” begged the girl before throwing herself between the creature and the falling water. “Sally’s my own friend. She saved me.”

“Sally nearly burnt you down to the ground with those houses,” said Joe.

“That’s because she was hungry,” sobbed the girl. “She’s been getting hungrier and hungrier lately. That’s why I’ve been stealing meat for her.”

“Well that’s one mystery solved, but now I’m more concerned with what it is.”

“Her name is Sally,” said the girl scoping up the injured creature up in her hands. “And she’s my best friend and I won’t let you hurt her anymore!”

“Well as long as I don’t have to worry about her burning my apartment down with us inside I won’t.”

And indeed, Joe didn’t want to. He was afraid of the creature, but it was nothing like he’d ever seen before. It was similar to a phenix of legend, but also to some dragon’s he had read about.

“Where did it come from?” Joe asked the girl.

“Matches, and I’m not lying,” she said looking sharply at him. “I…lived in the yard of that house that Sally burnt down. The old lady there never used it, and there was a paved corner of it where I could lite a fire. Sally just popped out of it one day. She kept me warm and guarded me better than a fire would, but she was always hungry, so I always had to steal. But Sally just kept growing bigger and bigger, and she was wanting more food than I could give her. And, and tonight when you stopped me and made me come back late…”

“Sally went off to find her own food?” Joe guessed. The girl nodded.

“She was really upset,” she said. “I sure she didn’t mean to lite that old ladies house on fire. Please don’t arrest us!”

Joe looked down at the pathetic little girl and her fire creature sizzling in her cupped hands. Her jacket was smoldered made useless by the flames. There were angry red burn marks on her skin, and her hair was even worse than the rest of her. She was barefoot and looked about ready to cry.

“I’m not going to arrest you,” Joe sighed. “I never was, but only if you keep that thing under control.”

“Sally will be good. I promise she will.”

“Good,” said Joe. “At least that’s settled. What’s your name?”

The girl was quiet for a moment, then said “It’s Ashley.”

“Ashley,” Joe said trying out the name and deciding it sounded right. “Ashely I don’t think you should go back to that yard tonight. Do you have anywhere else to spend the night? No? The you should sleep on my couch tonight, and we can decide what to do in the morning. If you’re hungry you can help yourself to anything in the cupboard.”

“Thank you, Mr. McIntyre,” Ashley said already hurrying off towards the fridge.

“Just call me Joe,” he said. “And do you know who Meat8411Walker might be?”

“No,” said Ashley then to the fire creature she said. “Don’t worry Sally, Joe has a pork chop right here for you.”

Joe sighed; but decided to watch what happened. In the morning he’d decide what to do with the two of them, as well as look into who Meat8411Walker might be, but those we’re mysteries for another time.

Joe waited below and out of sight of the security camera. The grocery store, much like the one he worked at during the day, had closed hours ago. Occasionally light from a passing car shown through the front window and cast the shelves’ shadows over each other. Otherwise it was dark. Joe stayed motionless. He hadn’t moved in hours, but stillness was a unique skill of his.

Though Joe’s second job paid less than his grocery store one, he found it far more important. Unfortunately is would likely never pay the rent.

A small noise from the next aisle over was all the warning he had. Joe leapt to his feet and rounded the corner. A girl, no older than eight and as thin as bones, had her arms full of all the meat she could carry. She hadn’t seen Joe in the darkness; and had turned to Walk away.

She took two quick steps, then crashed directly into the shelves.

The girl cried out and fell on her butt. The meat she held scattered across the floor, and blindly she reached to collect them.

“Hello,” said Joe in what he hoped was a friendly way .

The girl’s head whipped around to stare at Joe, or at least where his voice had come from. He wasn’t sure if she could see him or not, but he put his hands up peacefully just in case.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “But I can’t let you keep stealing Mr. Garcia’s food either.”

The girl said nothing. She was motionless. Her hand frozen on top the package she had reached for.

“Look,” Joe said slowly taking a glass container out of the bag he had brought with him. “I made this for you. A nice homecooked meal. You don’t have to steal anything tonight. Why don’t we put this all back and have a nice little chat together?”

The girl said nothing. Then she chucked the meat she was holding at him and leapt to her feet. She would have turn and ran, but Joe had already lunged forward and grabbed ahold of her. The girl screamed and hit him. She was so small however Joe hardly felt the blows. Quickly he grabbed both her hands in one of his, and with his other hand covered her eyes. The girl tried to bite him.

Joe focused on his studio apartment. He knew exactly where in the wide-open room he wanted to go, and holding the girl to him, Walked.

In a single step, from the store’s darkness to Joe well-lit apartment, the two traveled. Once their Joe immediately let the girl go. She turned to run but froze when she realized she was no longer in the store. Joe placed himself between her and the only door. Fearfully the girl turned to look at him.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, but I need to talk with you.” Joe said. “You’re a Walker like I am, aren’t you?”

The girl said nothing. She took a few running steps one way, and then the other. She looked around and sprinted to the bathroom door. It was locked.

Joe knelt and looked at the girl on her own level across the room.

“You and I are the same,” he said. “We’re Walkers. We can go anywhere in the world we want, that is, as long as no one sees us do it.”

The girl stayed silent. She was obviously still scared, but she now completely still. Her muscles frozen. She had become stock-still, and Joe took it as a good sign. Not moving was a trait they shared with each other. After a full minute had gone by without her blinking Joe became hopeful. It was not proof she was a Walker like him, but it was a very good sign.

“My name is Joe McIntyre,” he said. “I work at the Green Grocer most days, but in my free time I run a supernatural detective, craftsman, and consulting service. The store manager caught you on camera and hired me to exorcise you, he thought you were a ghost, but when I saw you on film I knew what you were. You’re a Walker. Like me.”

The girl continued to say nothing. Joe sighed. He stood up and walked over to his table and sat down. From his bag he pulled the leftovers of his dinner last night and dumped them out on the plates he had already set.

“You can still have this food,” he said. “But only if you eat it with me at the table.”

The girl’s eyes flicked to him, then she cautiously approached the table.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs,” Joe said. “It’s one of the few meals I know how to make. I have milk in the refrigerator too, if you want it.”

The girl froze again, this time eyeing the door. Joe watched her, sure that he could out race her again if she tried to run for it, but then she spoke in a very small voice. “Please, can I go now. Sir?”

It was a fair question, and not one Joe was sure he could say no to. He had only wanted to talk with her, find out more about himself through her, but he was suddenly aware he had abducted this child. The thought made him uncomfortable. He felt himself become still as he studied her, then asked. “Don’t you want to eat? Your so thin it looks like you haven’t had a meal in weeks.

“Please,” the girl said again. “I won’t steal from that store anymore. I need to go.”

Joe put down his fork. This meeting wasn’t going at all like he expected, and far from how he hoped.

“Where do you need to go?”

The girl opened her mouth, but then shut it and said nothing.

“Actually,” said Joe. “Why are you starved if you’ve been stealing months’ worth of meat every other night?”

The girl looked down. Her black tangled hair hid her face from him. She took a few steps forward, then looked at Joe.

“Please stop looking at me. I need to go.”

“Go where?”

The girl became still and silent again.

“Fine,” said Joe leaning back in his chair. “You can go, but only after you eat something and promise me you won’t steal from that store again.”

“But I already promised.”

Joe realized that she had and waved her to take her seat across the table from him.

The girl remained quiet, but she did slide into the spot and look down at her food with hungry eyes. She glanced once at Joe, then picked up her fork and dug in. Joe smiled and watched her devour the plate of spaghetti. He might not learn anything about himself or his power tonight, but he could take some comfort in completing his job and feeding this starving girl. If only he could get her to open up to him.

“Where’s the milk?” the girl asked after leaving the meatballs but slurping up every noodle she’d been given.

“The refrigerator. Do you not like meatballs?” Joe asked. He had given her a larger helping of them assuming she like anything meaty. He quickly counted them and found she hadn’t eaten a single one.

The girl said nothing as she poured herself a glass. She return the carton to the fridge, sat down, and took a large mouthful of milk. Then she spat it all at Joe’s face.

Joe stood up and cursed. The milk stung his eyes and he shut them relexify. He wiped them clear, but when he opened his eyes he found the girl was gone. She had Walked away, and taken her plate of meatballs with her.

Joe didn’t move a muscle for a full minute. Then he kicked a chair over in anger and plopped himself down on his couch. He held his head in his hands.

He’d screwed up. Joe had never known why he could Walk, but the only other person who could had left without answers. She wouldn’t go back to the market ever again. Joe had no idea where to look for her, and it’d be impossible now to search for her. He hadn’t even learned her name. Just that she stole more then she could possibly eat and didn’t seem to eat it anyways.

“Why take my plate of meatballs?” he asked himself out loud.

Joe sat up. That was the real mystery, and he felt something about the word ‘meatballs’, which he found odd. His instincts were telling him to investigate, and so he turned on his laptop.

His laptop, which was near and dear to him, was also nine years old. It had been high quality at the time and also the most expensive gift Joe had ever given himself. It was reliable, if slow, though Joe hardly ever noticed the wait. Now however his gut was rushing him, and he wished his laptop was faster.

As he pulled up pages his mind began to workout why the word ‘meatballs’ stood out to him. As a self-employed supernatural detective he was familiar and fascinated with myths and legends, none of which would involve meatballs. He thought that perhaps he’d read something about a monster that stole or feed on meat, but that was the wrong path of thought too.

Something made him look back at the online message that had started this job. It hadn’t been a direct offer from Mr. Garcia, he hardly knew how work the decade old security cameras in his store, much less anything on the internet. The post he said had come from a friend, but it was the username that Joe found odd. It was: MEAT8411sWalker.

8411, was BALL in Leet speak, which made the name essentially MeatballWalker. Joe remembered being curious about the name because he called himself a Walker, but now he was interested in the first half of the name. Why did it stand out to him again? He didn’t see a clue here for him to find, but still his gut told him that there was. How did this tell him anything about the girl?

If he assumed it meant something, and that MeatballWalker referred to the girl, then what did he have left? Nothing, so his thoughts weren’t right. Broken a different way, it could mean ‘meat’ ‘ball’ and ‘Walker’. If ‘Meat’ was a code for the girl, and ‘Walker’ a code for himself, that just left him with ‘ball’. No, not ‘ball’, 8411. Four digits. A house number?

A quick internet search told him there was a house listed under that in San Levi just across the street from Faust’s Family Beach Boardwalk. He didn’t know if that was important, but where would a young homeless girl want to live more then next to an amusement park.

Joe decided to look into it and began to pace and concentrate on the open street in front of that address. He’d seen it a time or two before, but he found he couldn’t Walk. Someone must be watching the street for some reason. No matter, Joe would Walk to the boardwalk.

A couple more steps, and Joe found himself still in his apartment. Who was watching the boardwalk this late at night? He tried again. He failed again.

Joe tried to think of an enclosed space hidden from public eyes. He didn’t have one though. He might have tried the stores, restaurants, or bathrooms, but if they were closed he may have to break out of them like a common thief, and since for some reason eyes were watching the boardwalk he was sure to be discovered.

An idea occurred to him. leading to one bathroom was a hallway-

-and Joe Walked into it. It was pitch dark except for the moonlight shinning ahead of him at the entrance. Joe grinned and then ran. He came out of the boardwalk’s lower courtyard where the kiddy rides were and turned up the path towards the main park. He expected to see at least a few people there, but what he found was a crowd.

Children were crying, old folks shivered, and married couples held each other’s hands. All of them were in pajamas or bathrobes, huddled around each other and speaking fearfully. Joe was about to ask someone what was going on, but then he saw the flames. They came from the other side of the rollercoaster, where the house address Joe had been running to was.

“Sir,” a police officer said when Joe pushed his way past the crowd to the boardwalk’s entrance. “We’re doing all we can but-”

“Have you seen a little girl?” Joe asked. “Thin, white ratty jacket, maybe eight years old?”

“They’re doing all they can to reach her sir,” said the man. “You need to have faith and trust us to get her out of there.”

“There? You don’t mean she’s in that inferno!”

The officer hesitated, but it was enough answer for Joe. He tried to lunge past him, but the officer pushed him back.

“It isn’t safe!”

“That’s why I have to get her out!”

“You would only burn, and what good would that do anyone? Leave this to the professionals.”

The two stared at each other. Then Joe clenched his teeth and turned right around and ran back the way he’d came. The girl was a Walker just like he was. She wouldn’t need help escaping a burning building, but that was only if she was being careful. She had run in plain view of people into the flames however, which was decidedly dangerous.

Joe sprinted across the boardwalk onto the beach. From his own experience Joe knew it took very little to Walk under normal conditions, but he also knew things could stop him. If he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t physically take a step. What if breathing enough smoke was enough to prevent her from Walking, even if she wanted to.

He didn’t stop running until his feet felt water and he could crash into the ocean’s surf. He rolled in it once, then stood up and ran alone the coast.

“The entrance,” Joe said wadding through the water. “8411. The hall, the courtyard, the, the lobby, a bedroom-”

-Joe had never been there before, which meant his aim may be off, but the suddenly darkened ocean disappeared from sight. Light engulfed him. Then heat. Fire danced and crackled around him. Joe held up his soaking wet jacket sleeve to his face and tried not to breath in smoke. Any way he turned his face hurt from the heat of the flames. He bent it down and near blindly started forwards.

“Walker!” he shouted. “Little girl! Where are you!”

A wooden beam behind him cracked and toppled over. A shower of sparks and flames washed over him. Joe hunched down and crouched, and over the sound of everything, he thought he heard a voice.

“Get out of here!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

This time Joe was sure he heard the little girl’s scream. He ran through the fire towards it. His cloths hissed as the flames licked him. He continued to shout. The girl answered him sometimes, calling “Joe! Joe! Over here!” or else pleading with someone else named Sally to come to her. Joe hoped Sally was a firefighter who had happened to find her first. But with how the building was he wasn’t sure they’d be able to leave without Walking.

At last Joe entered the room and found the girl. She was safe, but stood alone and scared in the center of the room. All around her the furniture burned, but she had her eyes turned upwards.

“What are you doing here?” Joe shouted as he took hold of her. “We could die!”

The girl struck him with her fists, but Joe didn’t let go.

“I can’t go without Sally!”

“Where is she?”

The girl pointed up at the chandelier above her. Joe looked up and gasped.

His mind hadn’t understood, wouldn’t have understood, if the girl hadn’t pointed it out. When he had entered the room he had only seen flames on top of the light fixture. Now he saw something else.

The creature had the talons of a large parrot, and feathers that burned and glowed like flames around it. The monster’s mouth had two rows of teeth like a shark’s, and its eyes were large and bright yellow with black slits. It squawked and hissed and spat like the around them. It flapped its great wings, and the fire around them burned higher. Embers fell on the girl and Joe, and she screamed as Joe tried to pat and put them out.

“What is that thing?” Joe asked her.

“That’s Sally! She’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend is going to kill you!”

“She’s sad! She needs me!”

Joe pulled on the girl, but the she scrammed, and the creature above flapped its wings. The fire around them burned brighter and hotter, and Joe let go of the girl.

“You won’t leave without that thing? Fine! Keep staring at it then!”

Joe stepped away from her, and as her eyes left him, Walked into the sea.

This time it was deep water. The flames had become unbearably warm, but now he was instantly cool. He wasn’t sure how deep below he was, but it hurt his ears as he felt himself sink down and touch the sandy ocean bottom.

Joe reached across himself and slid his jacket off his arms. He grabbed it in both hands. Took a step forward, and-

-flung the drenched duster up into the air. It spread outwards and wrapped around the creature like a new. The creature hissed, both in anger and physically as it struggled with the wet cloth. The girl spun around in surprise. Above her the creature lost its grip on the chandelier and fell to the ground just behind her.

“Sally!”

Joe moved quicker than the girl could and tackled the creature beneath the coat. The thing was angry, but blind, trapped, and ultimately not stronger than a determined man over twice its size. After a brief struggle Joe was able to hold the creature with just one arm. When the girl rushed to help it, Joe wrapped his other arm around her head.

With both their eyes covered Joe Walked them out of the fire and into the living room of his apartment. He released the girl but kept held of the struggling creature in his coat. His jacket was smoking and growing hot from the creature’s fire, but it held together long enough to unlock the bathroom door and toss the bundle onto the floor of his shower.

“You can’t!” said the girl trying to pull Joe’s hand away from the nozzle. “You’ll kill her!”

Joe ignored her and turned the shower on for a short quick blast. The creature flapped and the jacket was nearly no more, and so Joe blasted it with water again. The thing cried, shrank, but flapped its wings and embers up at the two of them. Joe hit it with water again. The creature cried out in pain, and so far had it shrunk that it was no larger than a baby chick.

“Stop it, stop it please,” begged the girl before throwing herself between the creature and the falling water. “Sally’s my own friend. She saved me.”

“Sally nearly burnt you down to the ground with those houses,” said Joe.

“That’s because she was hungry,” sobbed the girl. “She’s been getting hungrier and hungrier lately. That’s why I’ve been stealing meat for her.”

“Well that’s one mystery solved, but now I’m more concerned with what it is.”

“Her name is Sally,” said the girl scoping up the injured creature up in her hands. “And she’s my best friend and I won’t let you hurt her anymore!”

“Well as long as I don’t have to worry about her burning my apartment down with us inside I won’t.”

And indeed, Joe didn’t want to. He was afraid of the creature, but it was nothing like he’d ever seen before. It was similar to a phenix of legend, but also to some dragon’s he had read about.

“Where did it come from?” Joe asked the girl.

“Matches, and I’m not lying,” she said looking sharply at him. “I…lived in the yard of that house that Sally burnt down. The old lady there never used it, and there was a paved corner of it where I could lite a fire. Sally just popped out of it one day. She kept me warm and guarded me better than a fire would, but she was always hungry, so I always had to steal. But Sally just kept growing bigger and bigger, and she was wanting more food than I could give her. And, and tonight when you stopped me and made me come back late…”

“Sally went off to find her own food?” Joe guessed. The girl nodded.

“She was really upset,” she said. “I sure she didn’t mean to lite that old ladies house on fire. Please don’t arrest us!”

Joe looked down at the pathetic little girl and her fire creature sizzling in her cupped hands. Her jacket was smoldered made useless by the flames. There were angry red burn marks on her skin, and her hair was even worse than the rest of her. She was barefoot and looked about ready to cry.

“I’m not going to arrest you,” Joe sighed. “I never was, but only if you keep that thing under control.”

“Sally will be good. I promise she will.”

“Good,” said Joe. “At least that’s settled. What’s your name?”

The girl was quiet for a moment, then said “It’s Ashley.”

“Ashley,” Joe said trying out the name and deciding it sounded right. “Ashely I don’t think you should go back to that yard tonight. Do you have anywhere else to spend the night? No? The you should sleep on my couch tonight, and we can decide what to do in the morning. If you’re hungry you can help yourself to anything in the cupboard.”

“Thank you, Mr. McIntyre,” Ashley said already hurrying off towards the fridge.

“Just call me Joe,” he said. “And do you know who Meat8411Walker might be?”

“No,” said Ashley then to the fire creature she said. “Don’t worry Sally, Joe has a pork chop right here for you.”

Joe sighed; but decided to watch what happened. In the morning he’d decide what to do with the two of them, as well as look into who Meat8411Walker might be, but those we’re mysteries for another time.

He’d stuck gold. Whoever she was the hottest goth he’d ever met, and she’d practically throwing herself at him all night. When she suggested to go somewhere ‘more comfortable’ the two couldn’t leave the party quick enough.

They hit the streets running, and she led the way. The man didn’t know the area, but he held her hand he found the city becoming quiet. After a few blocks the streets seemingly abandoned, and even the sound of cars faded into the distance.

She led him to an alleyway and up a flight of stairs to a door. inside the room was dark, but on the other side she opened curtains to allow just enough moonlight to illuminate the bed. It was the only thing in the room.

“Close the door,” she growled to him. “And come to me. Slowly.”

The man shut the door, and as he did as she said he took off a different article of cloths with every step. The woman however stepped suggestively towards the bed but made no move to undress. That excited the naked man even more, and when they met he forced and pinned her to the bed.

He tore her cloths from her, and she made a comment about him being rough. He ignored her, but she seemed to like that. She wiggled her hands free and drug her sharp nails across his muscles. He flinched, but then dug at her with renewed furry.

At last the cloths were gone except for the hat she wore, and she moaned as she spread her legs for him beneath him. The man hovered above her not believing his luck. The woman was acting like something from his boyhood fantasies.

A real girl of his dreams.

To do a complete job undressing her, the man grabbed the cap off her head and tossed it across the room. She made a moan of approval and beckoned him to her. Their lips slammed together, and a moment later she was biting his lips, ears, and neck with a passion. The man enjoyed it until it became to passionate. Her teeth pierced his skin, and he jerked back before regaining his wits and pressing his mouth back against hers. He forced his tongue into her mouth, sure that would give her enough to think about without wanting to bite him…Then he pulled back and laughed.

“A split tongue?”

She smiled and hissed like a snake at him, and he almost bent down to kiss her again.

Something had caught his eye. There was something beside her head. He thought it an odd shape pillow, but when he grabbed it he found it hard. The thing moved with her head. She grinned up at him.

“What…”

“It’s because I’m horny,” she giggled. “Get it?”

The man tried to pull away form her, but she wrapped a scaly tale around his waist too quickly. She threw her head back and laughed wildly. Her bloody fangs glistened in the moon light.