Christie had stood stock still when the robbers had came into the store guns held high. She had heard the guns explode as the man behind the register was shot and felt great fear come over her when they were turned on her and the others who happened to be in the store. However, she wasn’t ready for the quiet cold that seeped into her body and the weightlessness that followed.

From lack of oxygen her mind started to grow fuzzy and she felt dizziness overcome her senses. She didn’t feel herself fall to the ground, but she was lacking any feeling anymore. The last thing she saw was a great amount of light that seemed to come from nowhere.

In darkness, Christie felt herself rise and fall. There was nothing around her. The void that she seemed to be floating in held an absence of all things. She knew she had no body now, but she was more than nothing. She was a part of the void. A single dot in the complexity of all the void was. Before she knew what was happening, Christie felt herself ripped from her nothingness and back into a rigid shape of being.

There were noises all around her and people shouting things to other people. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself on a gurney being wheeled towards the back of an ambulance. An oxygen mask clung to her face and the medic beside her was pushing the cart quickly through a streaming group of cops, firemen, and other medics. Christie reached up and touched the man who was pushing her on the forearm. He looked down surprised and moved faster to the ambulance. He began to ask questions and shone a light in her eyes. Christie tried to tell the man that she felt more than alright but he would have nothing of it. Eventually she gave up and took the ride to the hospital, very aware of the money she would have to pay for the well intended inconvenience.

Christie spent a couple hours in the hospital as a doctor poked and prodded her and finally told her she had a clean bill of health. Since her car was still at the gas station store, Christie called a cab who drove her back to the scene of the crime. She paid the driver and stepped out of the car, very aware of the caution tape and splatterings of blood that could be seen on the blacktop. She tried to remember what had happened but could only remember feeling cold and then some kind of flare shooting towards the thieves.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Christie ducked under the tape and ventured into the scene of the crime. The coolers were still chilled and the shelves were still stocked, but this place was changed. It no longer was a safe place. Violence had changed it and marked it as a store that was dangerous. She went to the spot where she had fainted or at least thought she had only fainted. The sense of being a part of something and yet completely nonexistent crept into her soul as she looked at the chips she had come in to buy. She had fainted but something felt off. She hadn’t merely fainted, she had died, or come close to dying. Now the question remained of how and why.

How had she died? And why did she come back?

She looked around the store quickly and got chills. The kind of chills that tell you you shouldn’t be in a certain place. Her senses seemed to heighten and she could hear every little noise that infiltrated the walls of the store. Christie quickly got out of the building and found her car where she had parked it. She got in and turned it on and drove out of the parking lot.

There wasn’t much left for her to do but go home and so she did. The drive was uneventful and her cat showed little interest in her late arrival. Her shower and a frozen pizza were calling her name. She unwrapped the pizza and put it into the oven and then hopped in the shower as it cooked. She could feel the day wash off her skin in the warm water. The timer went off for the pizza and Christie reluctantly got out of the shower, not wanting to leave the comfort only a shower can bring.

The pizza wasn’t necessarily good, but it hit the spot and bed was soon calling the girls name. The grey comforter of the bed felt softer than usual against her skin and she quickly fell asleep. It wasn’t long before Christie’s eyes bolted open and she took a gulp of air. Something had woken her up. She wasn’t sure what it was. Either a bad dream or a bad feeling had created panic in her sleep. The blankets on her bed were twisted into knots and she felt a sheen of sweat covering her body. Pulling a blanket over her mouth, Christie tried to force away her fear and fall back asleep. Gently rocking herself back and forth, the girl drifted into unconsciousness again. She dreamed of a single white cord in a sea of white cords being mended. It tied itself together and fused its strings to their proper spots. There was nothing extraordinary about the dream, except for a girl who had flowing black hair seemed to be in control of what the cord did.

Christie woke up the next morning early. Her brain had switched on and there was no shutting it off now. Quickly getting around and making breakfast and lunch, Christie headed to her car to get an early start on work. The small ceramics store was only a short distance from her apartment and she was sure she could throw a good fifty mugs by noon.

Pulling into the parking lot, the first thing she noticed was a lack of cars. The ceramics store shared a lot with a coffee shop, which was usually open and collecting customers by now. She looked in the windows of the shop and found it deserted. There were coffee cups on tables still steaming but not a single person could be seen. Not sure what to make of it, Christie unlocked the door to the ceramics shop, stepped in and then locked the door behind her. They still had an hour before they were open and the coffee shop scene had spooked her a little bit.

Going to the back of the store, Christie found her clay and wheel exactly where and how she had left them. Grabbing a chunk of clay, the girl kneaded it until she was sure the air bubbles were out, then sat down and began to work it into a mug. She was almost done with her fifth mug when a knock could be heard coming from the front of the store. Not wanting to have to talk to anyone or open the store so early, Christie peeked past the doorframe of the back studio to see if she could see who was knocking.

There was no one there but then she heard the knocking again and it was definitely coming from the front door. Scared, Christie grabbed a broom and walked through the store. She slowly unlocked the door and opened it a crack. Seeing no one, she let out a sigh of relief but was then pushed back as the door was forced open. The push on the door caused Christie to fall backwards on her butt where she tried to get back into a standing position as fast as she could.

No other action or sound was seen or heard. In fact, the door was now shut and Christie clung to the broom handle in a room that felt no more disturbed than it had been minutes ago. Thinking herself silly and overdramatic, the girl walked back to the studio when she noticed a paper on the ground. It was a heavy paper, thick and the color of cream and it had definitely not been there before. Picking it off the floor, Christie could see typed letters that formed words and sentences on its face.

She read it over once and then read it again.

‘You have been touched by an Other.’ It read.

‘This can be an unusual experience but we’re here to help. There are those who would find you to potentially harm you through experimentation or interrogation to see the effect of an Other on a person such as yourself. If you have reason to believe you are being watched or feel unsafe at anytime, please don’t hesitate to call.’

At the bottom of the page a phone number was written out neatly. This note was obviously a prank. What was an Other and why would someone try to interrogate or experiment on her for any reason. She was more than normal. Nothing had happened to her. She would have remembered an interaction with something called an Other. The note went on a nearby table and Christie went back to her mug making. When it was nearly time for the store to open, Christie went back to the front and unlocked the door again. She looked out the window and saw that the street was still strangely empty, safe a lone man in jeans and a V-neck but with black loafers. He seemed to be staring at the store but the girl didn’t notice. She turned and walked back to her ceramics. Fifty before noon was the goal and she was almost a quarter of the way done. There was nothing going to stop her from reaching that number, not even a man in casual wear and black loafers who was talking into his wrist or the group of people who were descending on the little store from every side.