Two young women stumbled clumsily down the streets of Little Rockwell. They had had a few too many drinks at a party and couldn’t quite remember which way their motel was. Their feet had become so sore from walking that they had to remove their heels, though the gravel wasn't too friendly either.

They had passed some oddly coloured shops a while ago; teal, lime-green, and apricot orange, but it was hard to distinguish them in the dark. Grey cumulus clouds engulfed the sky, vanquishing any light that attempted to weasel through.

“Mars, are you sure we were supposed to go this way?” asked the caucasian brunette with a braided ponytail, clutching her friend’s arm. “This place doesn’t look familiar at all …”

“What?! I was just walking in this direction because you were!” Mars retorted. She was also a caucasian brunette, except with a pixie cut flowing into long side-swept bangs. Both wore skinny jeans and a tank top.

“Should we call a taxi?”

“No way! Cabs are expensive!”

“But it's a long walk back, and it’s dangerous for us to be out this late at night.”

“What are you so scared about? I have a black belt in karate. Any idiot who tries to attack us is dead!” Mars asserted. It was obvious that she was a bit tipsy.

“Even if it isn’t Human—”

“There you go again! I told you a million times, Trish, there’s no such thing as ghosts!”

A sudden rustling sound came from within the alleyway ahead, causing both women to jolt in surprise.

“Haha!” Mars chuckled. “You silly goose, that was probably just an alley cat—”

“Wait, did you hear that?!”

“Hear what? The alley cat?”

“No! It sounded like a woman!”

“Well, there’s two standing right here.”

“Stop that!” snapped Trish. “I’m serious!”

“Look, I’ll prove to you that there’s nothing there — besides the cat, I mean,” Mars assured her as she staggered towards the alleyway. Trish was forced to go as well; she was still tugging on her friend’s arm. Mars peered inside but stopped in her tracks when she heard a mumbling voice say, “Wheeeere aaaaare yoooou? I know you’re heeeere …”

“Mars, tell me you didn’t hear that. Please.”

Mars responded with silence. The two shivered from the cold chill that swept by.

“You did, didn’t you?” whispered Trish. She tugged harder on Mars’ arm, trying to steer her away from the danger zone. “Come on, let’s go! I don’t want to know what’s in there …”

“HAHAHAHAHA! I fooooound yoooooou …” a figure exclaimed as it shot up in the darkness, laughing hysterically.

Trish screamed, “GHOST!!” as she bolted away, dragging Mars with her.

Pamela Moszkowicz readjusted her round-rimmed glasses. She thought she had heard screaming from the entryway, but was unsure, as she had been too excited about her find: a needle. It wasn’t any ordinary needle — oh no — it was proof that supernatural beings existed in this world. Although how it would prove it, she didn’t know yet. Pamela would have to return to her laboratory to conduct some much-needed experiments.

It was a couple of days beforehand, New York was not without its charms, but nothing ever compared to home. She enjoyed the summers on the Rochester Institute of Technology campus. The design created a wind tunnel through the main campus and kept things cool. On Wednesdays, she would usually walk up to the computer science building and choose something from CTRL ALT Deli, which was something she often found herself looking forward to. Today, though, was Tuesday, and there was much work to do. As per lab protocol, Pamela had donned full personal protective equipment. She chuckled to herself while analyzing a broken horn, her newest treasure. A group of white-coated researchers had gathered together, whispering distastefully behind her back.

“Is she at it again?!” boomed the deep voice of Douglas Trent, a man who towered above the others at a hefty six foot two in height. He never bothered to lower his voice compared to the rest. He had spent his early years in the armed services leading men and women of all sorts, puff postings in Germany, action in the Middle East, and later desk jobs. After an honorable discharge, he transitioned into the civilian sector. The GI bill helped him get a higher education, and from there, he had his pick of jobs in his field.

“She sounds so creepy … always laughing and talking to herself …” whispered April Woods. Her amber hair was tied into a tight bun. April’s ice-green eyes darted towards Pamela, checking to see whether she had heard them.

“Hey, new kid, come here,” Douglas ordered, pulling a young researcher, Lucas Lockewood, into their gossip group as he strolled by them. “See that woman over there? That’s Pamela Moszkowicz. She claims that there are mythical creatures in this world.” He was referring to her minor in Folklore Studies.

“U-um … okay …” the young researcher responded nervously, rustling his short black hair.

“You haven’t seen her before because she’s rarely in the lab,” added Willie White, a short, scrawny man with blonde, cropped hair and green eyes. “The princess likes bringing back everyday objects or animal remains, claiming that they belong to those creatures. Heck, today she brought back a broken horn. It’s just normal animal remains … as usual!”

“Didn’t she bring back a snake’s fang last time?” April asked. “How does the boss stand her? She’s getting nowhere with her research.” Also referring to her major in Biology.

“Obviously, it’s because she’s the boss’s daughter!” Douglas said snidely. “She can do whatever she wants!”

“Shush! She’ll hear you!” April urged Douglas earnestly. He never kept his voice down when it came to trash-talking about Pamela.

So that’s why she’s called the princess … thought Lucas.

“I ain’t trying to be subtle about it!” Douglas snarled indignantly. He turned and placed an arm around Lucas’s shoulders. “Don’t go near her, new kid, unless you want to miss lunch listening to her bogus theories.”

“O-okay …”

Pamela tried her best to ignore their looks of pity and Douglas’ disgusted gaze as she swabbed the horn and isolated the swab into a vial for further testing. Her frizzy dark chocolate hair was tied into a low ponytail, and huge, round glasses protected her eyes, covered by protective goggles. Her coworkers continued listing her previous finds in disbelief: scales, tufts of fur, another large broken horn, and metallic trinkets. The list went on.

Why do they always say that?! I’ll prove them wrong. Tata allows me to stay because I’m capable, not because I’m his daughter! Pamela thought to herself. She unlocked and pulled open a drawer full of specimen objects held in jars and plastic bags. I’m sure my intuition is right. She stared intently at her collection.

“Huh, I guess little towns aren’t safe either,” Willie remarked as he browsed through his phone.

“Why do you say that?” April asked as she peeked over his shoulder.

“My friend just told me that their neighbor’s son was jumped last night,” he replied. “He even sent me the link to their local newspaper.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Go for it.”

April took the phone and began reading out loud, “Hmm … let’s see … Little Rockwell … where on Earth is that?”

“It’s a little town in New Hampshire.”

“… Two people randomly jumped … wow, one of them doesn’t even remember what happened—”

Pamela shot up in her chair. The last part had piqued her interest.

“Can I see that?!” Pamela requested excitedly, cutting April off. The two researchers leapt in surprise, unsure of how she had gotten there so swiftly. She towered in front of the two with her five foot nine and a half frame.

“Stop doing that!” Willie exclaimed. He appeared as though he had nearly died.

Alice reluctantly handed over the phone; she hadn’t finished reading it yet. Pamela immediately skimmed the article titled Retro Records’ Employees Randomly Jumped after Work.

Lost memories … small peaceful town … I think there’s something more to this. Without a second thought, Pamela handed the phone back to Alice, grabbed her large tan shoulder bag with slight difficulty from her desk, and rushed out the door.

“Hey! You’re still wearing your protective equipment!” Willie shouted after her.

Douglas rolled his eyes as he remarked, “I see the princess is off on another little adventure.” Noticing she still had the protective equipment, he called out, “Hey! That’s company property!”

“She just came back a little while ago!” Alice complained.

With their gossip topic out of the room, they soon lost interest and wandered back to their own desks. Douglas was furious and made no attempt to hide it.

How did I lose to someone like that?! His wounded ego lashing out, watching her licorice black van disappear. 

He referred to when it came time for choosing the head of research and development.

It had taken Pamela roughly two days to arrive at Little Rockwell. The townsfolk were very friendly, and an elderly woman wearing a flowery blouse had directed her to the motel she was currently staying in, The Rockwell Inn. It was a squared-off horseshoe-shaped building painted dark blue. Built onto the hillside, it had a roadside ramp leading into the parking lot. The town was larger than she had expected, perhaps because it had previously prospered as a mining town. But unsurprisingly, many areas required urgent revamping; some signs and roofing looked like they were about to fall.

Pamela was already on her third cup of coffee that night, and she wondered whether she’d be able to sleep afterwards. The laptop felt hot on her bare thighs as she sat cross-legged on top of the covers of the twin bed. The local newspapers were scattered about beside her: Retro Records’ Employees Randomly Jumped after Work, Jumpers Found during Attempt to Sell Stolen Goods, and Underage Status Prevents Disclosure of Jumpers’ Identities.

She absent-mindedly munched on some black licorice, her favorite snack, while browsing the internet. There were over twelve million search results for living silver, and Pamela visited every link possible. Her curly bangs were tied up like a spouting fountain while the rest of her frizzy hair splayed everywhere. Her nose was only a couple of inches away from the laptop screen, which fogged a bit from her breath.

“Nothing in that one …” she pouted, exiting the website and opening another. “Nope … Oh, darn! Another pop-up!”

“Why don’t you just get Adblock?” Willie had asked one time.

“Because the content creators wouldn’t be paid for their hard work!” she had responded, exasperated at the thought of not paying for their efforts.

Willie had rolled his eyes, and Douglas, who had overheard, guffawed mockingly.

Pamela continued skimming through more sites while eating another licorice stick, but none of them had what she was looking for.

“Nothing in that one either,” she mumbled. “Hmmmmm … maybe just a couple more before I turn in for the night.”

*SNORT*

The sound had come from beside her. Pamela turned to check on her dull green iguana, who was lazing about on the pillow. She usually kept the room a little bit on the warm side; he complained when it got too chilly.

“You think it’s time to sleep too, Iggy?” she asked him. The iguana turned his head away. Sometimes she felt like he didn’t like his name. “Just a few more, okay?” Pamela promised as she turned back towards her screen. She entered another website, skimmed through it and then clicked out of it. “Nothing in that one …” she said.

Pamela visited a gloomy blog and scanned it before exiting again. “Nothing again—wait a minute!” Iggy jerked from the sudden outburst. Pamela reentered the blog and clicked on a link, staring intently at her screen as the page loaded. She skimmed the contents while reading out loud, “… shadowy animal-shaped monsters — look at these amazing sketches, Iggy! — fuzzy memories … hmmm … interesting! Who is the author of this? Oooooh, The Dark One, how ominous.”

*SNORT*

“It’s just like the other cases I’ve seen!” she exclaimed, admiring the contents of the page. The blog outlined how they’d forgotten a few hours of the day on several occasions. “The Dark One … I’ve gotta contact this person!”