Sadly, yes.

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It was the oddest thing, this feeling she woke up with, a feeling so much better than just a good night’s sleep. The feeling seemed to have come right out of the night’s ether as she slept, entering along with her breath. The strangest part of it was… she did not dislike the feeling. In fact, she laid there a good while reveling in it.

Outside her window it was still dark. Thinking back, Liza couldn’t remember the last time she’d been up before light, at least not since those Christmas mornings when she was a kid. Her memory replayed pictures of one of those Christmas mornings, surprising her with how bright and shiny the images remained after all these years; the colored lights, the empty cookie plate with it’s half-finished milk glass, and the myriad of gifts, both wrapped and pre-assembled ones, which awaited she and her sister. Smiling was a novelty Liza rarely experienced anymore, but the thought of her poor father up all night, putting together all those doll houses, and EZ Bakes, and bicycles brought a big one right up! She even chuckled, thinking of how he, not the handiest of men, must have dreaded the days leading up to Christmas Eve. God, she had loved him! It was a shame, their falling out, but he was so old fashioned that he just couldn’t see the world the way it was today, the way Liza saw it.

And the old movies her mother used play every Christmas morning! Mother had always loved movies, and had drug her girls to all of the newest ones, splurging on popcorn, soft drinks, and candies that you couldn’t get anywhere else. How special those Saturdays had seemed! Liza had gone to see a movie just last weekend, but it hadn’t been the same. The theater was mostly empty. Of course, the movie was pretty lousy and the acting even worse, but the message had been important, and that was something. You would think that all those talented people in Hollywood could make a good movie with a modern message. Surely equity and diversity were stronger social constructs to build on than the joys of Christmas… were they not?

The sun was just peeking through the blinds when she heard the coffee pot click on. Liza waited for the familiar aroma to work it’s way through her tiny apartment before sliding out of her warm sheets. As she poured she thought about that new guy at work, the one who had taken to bringing her a papercup full every morning since finding out that Liza drank hers with just a touch of hazelnut, the same way he liked it. It must be costing him a fortune, buying two at that snooty coffee shop every morning. She should give him a few bucks next time, but she really couldn’t afford it every morning and wished he would just stop. It was nice of him, though. She couldn’t imagine what had started him doing it? Hell, he barely knew her and probably wouldn’t like her if he did.

But the new guy was still on her mind as she eased herself into the shower, checking the water’s temperature. He’d taken to having his lunch with she and Sophie, the new guy had. Of course, they only allowed it because he mostly just listened, although he did interject occasionally. His interjections were usually pertinent, though. He was pretty smart in a goofy, clueless kind of way, even if Sophie did usually make fun of him after he had gone. Of course, Liza teased about him too, but only because Sophie did.

Funny, that odd feeling was still with her when she stepped out of the shower. Liza was surprised to find herself humming. She never hummed! Especially not in the morning, but she didn’t stop! She was still humming when she wiped the circle of haze from the mirror and examined herself. Nothing looked much different but that whisper of a smile on her lips… but no. She couldn’t be smiling, could she? She was all alone, and it was first thing in the morning. Jesus, she was fucking losing it. But smiling or not, waking up early had left her with some extra time, so Liza spent it on her hair. She even applied some eye liner and lipstick. Just a wee bit, but enough to give her a glow. Sophie would get a kick out of that!

The ride into work was uneventful. Well, other than that song that came on the radio. The song took her back to her high school days, cruising the strip with Allie and Beth. She should call them up sometime, just to say hi. She would love to know how they were doing. It had been so long since she’d seen them though, and all Beth and Allie had wanted to talk about was boys, and marriage, and babies. How cliche. They had no idea about what was really important in this modern world. The trio’s old favorite still had Liza singing along however. She even caught herself at a stoplight shimmying to the beat. She glanced around to ensure that no other motorists had seen her. What in the world was she doing? She wasn’t a kid anymore, so why did she suddenly feel like one?

At her desk “He” stopped by with coffee, as had become his custom. “Hey, you look great this morning!”

”Do I?” One of her eyebrows raised quizzically. If that was his reason for bringing her coffee he was shit out of luck.

He was smart enough not to push that too hard. “Say, you want to meet for dinner?”

”Sure, me and Sophie are going at 11:00.”

”No, not lunch. Dinner.”

”You mean, like a date?”

”Yea. I’d really like to talk, to get to know you better.”

”You would?” She said it with some disbelief. She was not the type that guys asked to dinner, or wanted to get to know better.

”Yea,” he said. “I really would.”

Shit! Why did his smile have to be so fucking cute?

Her heart reminded her that it was still down there, never-minding her head as it gave a great forward leap, blurting it out before her mind had time to think the offer through. “Sure, I guess.”

”Awesome! Gotta run! See you at lunch?”

”Yea. See you then.”

When he was gone Liza could not temper her excitement. Her hands were actually shaking! She wondered if she should tell Sophie? No, Sophie would think she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had lost it? How else could she explain her morning, with all of this “allowing herself to feel happy” shit?

But she did feel happy. And she liked it. Maybe she could share the feeling? Should she dare? On a whim Liza took out her phone and texted her father. “Do you mind if I come by this weekend? Just to hang out?” That would shock the shit out of him!

“Hallelujah!“ The reply was incredibly quick. “I’ll make chili.”

Uh oh! Liza couldn’t resist texting back, hoping it wouldn’t ruin everything. “No meat?”

Again with the quick reply. “No meat.” Followed by a smiley-face imogee. Her dad used an imogee? Ugh!

“Isn‘t this the craziest thing,“ Liza thought. “Waking up not woke?”

"No, Mom," I growl, yanking on her. "You can't have him."

"But- but- he's hot!"

"He's also taken. I thought even you at least had standards, but you want a man who's already claimed? Seriously?"

My youngest brother, Brack, latches onto her other side. "We don't need more half-siblings! Now come on, we have to keep moving!" We work together to pull her backwards down the street. "Mom, stop dragging your feet. I've lost track of how many safe houses your antics have gotten us kicked out of, and we still need somewhere to stay tonight!"

She pouts, but finally relents. "Oookaaay."

We sigh with relief and stop pulling as she finally starts walking on her own again. Checking my straps, I tug lightly to make sure my sisters are still connected to me. When they tug back, I smile a little and check in with Brack, who tugs his own straps and nods. I know we look weird walking down the street like this, but five out of our seven family members have the tendency to wander off.

Just when I think that we won't find another safe house because we've already been kicked out of all of them, a man appears, waving at us. "Come quickly! Night is coming!" Brack and I pick up the pace, dragging our siblings and mother with us. "Faster! Darkness comes early in this area!"

We dash inside just as the shadows swallow up the road where we were just standing. Panting, I stretch backwards to breathe a little more easily. "Thank you," I manage to say. "What do we owe you?"

He shakes his head. "I don't take payment for saving people. Stay here tonight. I would suggest longer, but the fact that you're way out here so long after the disaster means that you've been evicted everywhere else, right?"

I hesitate before nodding. "Yeah. We have some, ah, troublesome people in our group that don't think before doing things. If you know anywhere that could take us..."

He tilts his head. "I'll do some thinking. Do you need help out of those harnesses?"

I shake my head, letting him lead us deeper into the safe house. "We have a lot of practice. It's also better that we keep them on." I can see him trying to figure out what exactly we're wearing, so I decide to explain. "Our mother is the type of person who acts on every whim. We were actually lucky that the Collapse happened. She couldn't hold a job and had six kids."

He blinks at me. "That might be the first time I've heard someone say the Collapse was a good thing."

"I didn't say it was good, but it probably saved our lives." I catch him eyeing my mom up and down. "If you make a move, so will she."

He startles. "Pardon. That wasn't my meaning. I was noticing that none of you look like her, and that she looks normal enough. Why couldn't she hold a job?"

I bark out a laugh. "Our mother is a nymphomaniac with a policy of never sleeping with the same man twice. She was on birth control for most of it and swears that she always used protection, but still managed to get pregnant six times by six different men. You were curious about the harnesses, right?" He nods. "Four out of six of us inherited her habit of doing random things without thinking. Brack and I didn't. He's the fourth child, youngest son, large for his age, so he took the boys and I took the girls and we're both strapped to Mom because between us we're strong enough to keep her from getting herself killed."

He stares at us. "Well, you seem to be doing all right. You're each still in one piece, after all. Here's a tent for the night. This basement isn't the most comfortable place, but it's dry and no one has died down here, so it's decently safe."

I nod, but keep him in my periphery until he stops to talk to someone else. For a refugee safe house, it's surprisingly orderly down here, and I can see where they've expanded the room beyond the original basement. That's a good sign; expansion means there's a fairly permanent population. Even still, I shoot Brack a look that he easily interprets: trust no one.

As we settle in, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, the man comes back. "There's a place, about three days' walk from the city. Rest stops each day's walk between. It's fairly organized, almost a city in and of itself if you look at the people, run by some ex-military. Probably safer than any city safe house. Straight east, along the road. Can't miss it."

I nod my thanks. "Our gratitude. Any messages to carry?" That's the biggest repayment I can give him. Travelers are often requested to carry messages in return for shelter or food, since the postal system fell apart in the Collapse.

I relax a little when he nods. "I'll have a satchel with the messages ready for you first thing. I suggest you leave at Lightbreak. I'll let you know when the signs begin."

I nod again and settle back. That's another change since the Collapse. Darkfall and Lightbreak have replaced dusk and dawn, now that the coming of darkness is no longer cyclical and consistent. We have to watch for signs now.

As promised, he wakes us just before Lightbreak and passes us the bag of letters. I let Brack check through it; troublemakers sometimes add bait to their packages so that the spectres follow the travelers away.

The bag is clear, though, so with compass in hand, we set out. Here's hoping we get to refuge.

"Identification please," said the short stout grumbling man, leaning over his desk.

"I didn't know I needed my identification," tears began to spill like a waterfall as the hostile monster glared over me, quickening the rate of my usually steady heart beat.

"Reveal your purpose boy," his cold dark eyes causing me to shudder.

"My father,” I stuttered, "he was-he was in the fire-"

"I'll just borrow your horoscope then," he remitted, allowing the gate to hover, permitting my presence into the cold cemetery. "You're quite the project aren't you?" He laughed just as everyone did drawing light to my negligent natal chart. The concentration of water elements left me cosmically and comically imbalanced.

My breath started to expand as my love for the angry old troll softened. My frown learned to reverse into a smile, as I nudged my horse forward with the tap of my heel.

"Thank you sir, it was nice to meet you," I said, nodding my head.

"Sorry for your loss," he grumbled in apology.

Before I could consider a response, the gate pressed firmly behind me, his glower in my past, the stench of death to my front. I struggled a swallow as the stones symbolizing life long gone painted a nauseating aroma of nostalgic noises silently stirring before me.

"I'm here father," I whispered to the wind, willing me forward, willing me strength I hadn't the courage to muster on my own. "I'm here."

My life is multicolor.

Every friend around me has chosen a stripe on a rainbow flag to declare their intentions. Each one standing proudly with their self-understanding and their newfound confidence in their own lives. Yet, I remain with no color, a flag gifted to me by a friend that includes black and white and only a triangle of color (search up the pride ally flag) as though my friends know I might never claim a flag that declares me a part of the rainbow.

I love them, though. I love it when my best friend brags to me about his boyfriend. I love it when the junior I adopted tells me about her last ex-girlfriend. I love it even when I can't remember their name because they change it every few weeks tells me in detail about how it feels to be attracted to 'everybody' even if I know they probably exaggerate because just because they're pansexual doesn't mean they don't have standards. I love it when my cuddle buddy tells me to calm down because he's not upset that I messed up his pronouns again - he never reminds me, so he thinks it's okay that I forgot (it really isn't okay to me though). I love it when my friend asks me whether her boyfriend would be mad if she kisses a girl. I love it when my senior explains to me how it's possible to not feel any sexual attraction at all and still be in a romantic relationship. I love it even when I can't keep track of names and pronouns and my entire world is swept up in a technicolor rainbow swirl so dizzying that I start to be surprised that my girl friend is dating a guy.

My life is multicolor. I may be uncertain, I might not know who I am or who I'm into, but my friends are whirlwinds of color that will keep me from ever getting bored. They add the color to my life that I didn't know was missing... because those who seek acceptance - whether from others or themselves - are the most likely to give it to those who need it.

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

On the channel today, we congratulate last week's winner, and officially announce the new Challenge of the Week, and let the new blood know who's who in the admin zoo.

Here's the video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oA03jVqp9Hc

And here's the link to CotW CCXXIII.

https://theprose.com/challenge/13980

And.

As always...

-Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

She had lived her entire life in a self-sustaining concrete home, underneath a small city. The water was filtered from the river and the only place where she could see out was a small balcony behind the waterfall.

And yet, there were areas she had never visited. Doors that were always locked. She had many caretakers who acted as her family, though rarely were they all there at the same time, but she knew from a young age that her parents were dead. How they died, she had not been told; all she knew, from a little eavesdropping, was that their deaths were honorable acts of sacrifice to let others escape.

All of her caretakers had strange abilities. Having grown up watching them, she believed it was normal, and wondered why she didn’t have any. When she was about fifteen and a half, her powers burst into being. While some of her caretakers were ecstatic, most acted as if she had just died and they were already mourning her death. Her power to ‘undo’ things - locks, spells, etc. - meant they had no way to keep her out of more dangerous areas of the complex.

Instead of trying, they personally unlocked the doors one at a time, letting her use her own judgement on how to act, though they did supervise in case they needed to stop her from doing something that would get her killed. In each room, she took careful stock of the situation - looking for traps, inlain spells, curses - before putting even one foot in. To her caretakers’ surprise, she was able to completely undo what they had been scared of for so long.

They were debating whether to let her see the most dangerous room when the one who had been tutoring her raced into the room, breathless. The girl had claimed a need to use the restroom and slipped away; when the tutor had gone looking for her, the door to the basement was unlocked. They all immediately raced down.

When she had reached the bottom, she had been surprised to find that it was flooded. She disabled the spell that was keeping it that way and began looking around. The basement was a large common area with only one hallway; the only rooms were the bathroom, an exercise room, and what appeared to be a trophy room of some sort. She headed down the hallway, choosing to start with the bathroom at the far end and work her way backwards toward the entrance.

Luckily, the bathroom wasn’t booby-trapped, and all she had to do was use a basic cleaning spell to fix the rusted pipes and dusty counters. The exercise room was a bit more complex; it seemed that if a person touched something, they were doomed to be stuck to that item for eternity - and worse, the objects couldn’t leave the room. She undid each of the curses separately, not wanting to mess up when the original structures of the spells had been that complex. She wondered absently who could have done such things.

Finally, she headed to the last room. The entire time, she had been trying to figure out why this all seemed so familiar, from the formerly locked rooms upstairs to the basement that she had never before entered, and why with each cleansed room, her caretakers cried with relief.

The last room was strange. According to the plaques on the wall, the former occupant had been the leader of some kind of special squad. She could see a curse laid on the room, but she couldn’t interpret it. Without stepping in, she stretched out her arm and picked up a dangerous-looking book that she could sense was tied to the curse. She began to read:

“If you have entered this room, you can never leave. You will die if you take a single step out of it. Perhaps not immediately, but slowly and painfully. Yet, to destroy the crystals which are the source of this curse, you must step into the room. You may be considering zapping the crystals to destroy them. Let me tell you now, this will not work; the crystals have been programmed to absorb any destructive magic.

“There is a catch. If you can destroy the crystals and exit the room within 20 seconds of entering it, you will be safe. However, this is impossible. Teleportation spells are ineffective inside my curse. After 20 seconds, you will be unable to destroy the crystals through any means. If my curse is not destroyed within ten years of being placed, all Specials will be killed and I will be free to destroy the world. Good luck!”

She stared at the book for so long that she didn’t notice the approach of her caretakers until one of them set a hand on her shoulder, startling her. She put the book back - she wasn’t going to risk setting off a hidden trap by removing it from the room - and allowed them to lead her to a seat, where they began to explain.

Once upon a time, the complex had been a base for a group known as the Specials. It was an organization made up of those with extraordinary powers and those able to use spells or curses. They had been operating out of what was then known as the Compound for decades.

One morning, 9 years and 10 months ago, they woke up to find that their water supply had been tampered with. The supply line provided by the city had been cut off and their purified water was now just river water.

Such a thing could only have been done by someone within the Compound, but no one could imagine who would do it. The teams sent to fix it succeeded, but died immediately after. Their dried-up corpses were magically teleported back to the Compound by spells woven through the curse.

They were all going through their normal morning routines when the multitude of curses spread over the Compound began to make themselves known. All of the bodies were teleported into the Room of Respect as soon as they died; every single one was perfectly preserved, as if awaiting a time when they could be properly laid to rest.

The most dramatic one was the room of the Specials’ leader. All those remaining were in the basement holding a strategy meeting - the leader was participating from the entrance to his room, having read the magical guidebook as soon as he’d seen the curse - when suddenly the traitor made herself known. It was someone they had all trusted, but who had harbored extreme grudges toward many of the members for quite some time.

Apparently, she had waited until the day that the youngest child, the daughter of the vice-leader, had turned six. She claimed it was to make her games more fun, and that it would leave a bad taste in her mouth to kill a kid younger than that. She said that this entire thing was her revenge - for what, she never said. When the leader pointed out that ‘all Specials will be killed’ included her, she laughed and shook her head. Pulling out a small crystal, she told them that she had never been gifted with anything but luck.

She then activated the other two curses she had placed. The first was a one-time-use-only that specified that one person must die per minute for thirty minutes, but that if anyone was left in the basement after the time was up, they would be killed automatically. The second curse forced all Specials who had ever been a part of the organization to return to the base at least once every thirty days or they would die, and there had to be at least six people within the Compound at any given time. She had also set up a spell so that anyone killed by any of her curses would be automatically transported to the Room of Respect perfectly preserved, but that if any of the bodies were buried before all of her curses were destroyed, those involved with the burial would all be killed.

The first to die was the leader. He purposely stepped outside of the boundaries of his room and died a gruesome death to give the rest another minute. twenty-nine others immediately stepped inside his room, having already decided to sacrifice themselves. Each minute, one of them would step out, resigning themselves to a painful demise to buy time for the others to escape. The vice-leader and his wife were the last to go, having used the preceding twenty-eight minutes to set up a flood spell that would prevent anyone else from being caught.

When the last group (who were carrying the vice-leader’s struggling daughter) was on the stairs - technically out of the basement - they turned to watch two of their most beloved members. They wanted to shield the child’s eyes, but couldn’t bring themselves to prevent her from getting closure. The vice-leader died first; his wife never released his hand, even as she died. Neither looked away from their daughter until the very end. The last few that were on the stairs fled, just in case the curse of the basement included the stairs. The flood spell was activated as soon as the one-time curse disappeared.

The group chose to wipe away the memories of the girl’s first 6 years, tying the spell to the traitor’s curses so that the memories would return when the curses were all canceled.

The traitor was never seen again, but they all knew she was still out there.

As her tutor finished explaining the circumstances of her 6th birthday, she noticed that she was crying. Touching her cheek absently, she wondered if she could destroy the curse on the leader’s room. Her eyes shifted to it and the knowledge that it was that curse which had taken her parents’ lives, even as willing sacrifices for the sake of others, hardened her resolve. She focused all of her power on that one room. She knew she couldn’t reverse the activation of the curse, so instead of undoing the curse or the magic cast on the crystals, she undid the crystals’ very existence. She could not change history, but she knew that she had just created a separate timeline where those crystals had never existed in the first place, though she had no doubt that the traitor in that timeline would just find other crystals to take their place.

The curse over the room vanished. Her caretakers, no, her comrades stared at her in shock. She headed up the stairs to the center of what she now knew was the Compound and spread her energy over the entire structure, reversing each curse placed there one by one. When they had all been erased, she asked the people she had grown up with where the Room of Respect was, and they guided her to it.

She had already undone the curses on both the room and the corpses, but they still required burial, and a small part of her wanted to check if reversing the curses would bring her family back. She knew it was unlikely, and therefore wasn’t surprised when they were still dead. One by one, she and her comrades began laying their friends and families to rest.

When they were finished, she used the slight traces that had been left behind by the curses to track the traitor. Her comrades wanted to take care of it on their own, but she was determined to face down the person responsible for her parents’ deaths.

First, they contacted the government. They had been taking only short-term jobs for the last almost ten years, and now they were ready for something bigger again. Then, the newly-reinstated Specials paid a house call to the traitor who had destroyed their lives. One of the things discussed with the government was permission to do whatever they wanted to a specific person; the government only agreed after the word ‘traitor’ was used.

The woman was not expecting those she had scorned to ever find her, much less en masse. They stormed her house, trapping her; the girl had already reversed all of the magic that had been set up to detect and stop intruders. Next, she erased the crystals, and anything else in the house that appeared to have the ability to cast magic or curses.

One of the Specials held the woman in place as the girl padded toward her. The traitor wondered who the girl was until she was close enough to see the resemblance to the vice-leader and his wife, and then began to struggle. The girl had no mercy. She erased the woman from existence and took her relief in the fact that she had just created an entirely new timeline where the traitor had never existed at all. It occurred to her that this action might have consequences, but she shrugged it off. She refused to regret her actions.

The Specials resumed their work, assisting many governments in times of crisis, and they have continued to do so to this day.

When I'm at the front of the left turn lane, waiting for the light to turn green, cars coming from the right, turning left, look into their turn as they pass in front of me. I don't know them. They don't know me, but for that rare moment in time, our paths narrowly cross; and there I am, grinning ear to ear, flipping each of them the bird as they continue on their commute. I just enjoy their facial reactions. No one can possibly foresee it. It's shocking, invigorating, comical, for them and for me. The thing that upsets me is when they clearly see me, but have no reaction at all. Those are the ones who sadden me. It's as if someone randomly flipping them off while grinning is just par for the course. Those are the dead souls, the downtrodden, the serial killers. I pray for them; and when the light turns green, I remember their faces. All of them.