Joleen stands frozen, paralyzed by fear, her eyes locked on the gleaming barrel of the gun aimed directly at her chest. Her breath catches. The fluorescent lights in the bank hum overhead, harsh and cold. Behind the ski mask, the robber’s eyes are bloodshot and frantic—sweating, twitching, one wrong move from breaking.

Huh? What’s going on? Is this really happening right now?

“You!” he barks, pointing the gun away from her just long enough to gesture toward the teller line. “Get the damn money from the back. Now!”

Her coworker, Ethan, flinches like a kicked dog. He hesitates—just a second—then bolts through the swinging door behind the counter.

“Don’t play with me!” the robber shouts after him. “You think I won’t kill someone?!”

Ethan better not do anything dumb!

Joleen’s heart slams against her ribs. The customers are on the floor, quiet. Crying. One of them whispers a prayer. She can't move. Her knees threaten to give out.

Moments stretch like hours.

Should I talk him out of it? Would he kill me if I tried? He already seems like he’s ready to risk it all.

Ethan returns, arms filled with bundles of cash. His eyes flick toward the silent alarm button tucked beneath the counter. He stumbles. Fumbles. Press it.

Dumbass. He knows the alarm is broken. What the hell is he thinking? I better not get the bullet.

The alarm isn’t so silent. A piercing whine screeches through the room.

The robber spins, wild with rage. “You think I’m playing? You think this is a joke?!”

His gun whips back toward Joleen. Their eyes meet.

“Wait—please, don’t—” she breathes. Bang.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? What are the odds of this? On my day off. Dad told me to leave this job.  But I guess I'm going to see you soon, let's be a family again.

The shot echoes like a thunderclap. Red blooms across her blouse like spilled ink. Her body jerks backward, weightless, and crashes to the cold marble floor. Gasps erupt, screams tear through the room.

Joleen’s vision blurs. The ceiling flickers. She tries to breathe, but can’t. Her breathing is shallow and slow.The world stretches thin—like smoke unraveling.

Then everything goes black.

What are those strange cracks? Is that the gateway to the other side?

Joleen wakes to the sound of trickling water and the soft rustle of wind through leaves. Her body lies still in a shallow stream, the coolness of the current wrapping around her limbs like silk. Where there had been pain, there is now calm. Her muscles, once locked in fear, relax on command. Then it hits her.

The memory. The gun. The shot. The scream.

I died. Bullet to the chest. I felt it pierce my heart. My body dropped cold, lifeless. I died. I was murdered. In my chest.

Her body jerks upright, water splashing as she gasps for breath. Heart pounding, she stares at her hands—smaller, slimmer. Not hers. She leans forward, using the clear surface of the stream as a mirror.

I was murdered for Ethan's stupidity. I was killed. I…. I don't understand. Who is this? 

Staring back at her is a face she does not recognize. Long, silky black hair clings to her shoulders. Her skin is smooth and a warm brown tone, dusted with pastel green freckles that stretch like a constellation across her cheeks, forming a bridge from one side of her face to the other. A cluster of those same freckles wraps around her left eye like a crescent moon. Her irises match the green of her freckles—a haunting, beautiful glow.

This is not her face.

Where am I? I thought I had died. I felt my life slip. I felt the bullet kill me. Whose face is this? Is this the after life?..... She looks like a nymph or… she looks and feels so..

It’s unrecognizable. Unnatural. Otherworldly.

“What the hell...” she whispers.

She splashes more water on her face, hoping it will change. Hoping the image will snap back to what's familiar. But it stays.

This all feels so surreal. I need to calm down and think. Where can I go to find civilization, get help? How the hell do I end up in the body of a spirit? 

 Suddenly, Joleen knows: she’s not just in a new body. She’s in a new world. She stumbles out of the stream, still reeling, and crashes into a nearby bush. Through the branches, she spots an old log cabin tucked away in the forest. It looks abandoned—weather-worn and crooked—but something about it pulls her in.

What's this strange tug at my heart? Is this your home?.... Or is this the forest home? Is she the protector of this forest? Will I find out more about you? I have a strong instinct that I will.

“Well, that’s conveniently hidden,” she mutters, rolling onto her stomach and crawling out of the bush.

She pushes herself to her feet and heads toward the cabin. Inside, it’s quiet. Not abandoned. Someone has tried to fix it—patching leaks, repairing floorboards, cleaning. It’s small. A door to her left, one to the right. She checks the right: nothing. Empty.

The left: a bed. A dresser. That’s all.

Have you been here all alone? In this stuffy dark woodsy cabin. I wonder how long, and why. Where are you protecting? Waiting for someone, maybe something? Were you locked away for evil crimes?

She sits down, the mattress sinking under her weight. A worn journal slides out from under the pillow. She picks it up, hesitates, and then opens it. A tidal wave crashes through her.

Memories—not hers—flood her mind.

A baby born in this very cabin. A mother cradling her, singing lullabies through tears. Nights without food. Days of laughter. Years of love and sacrifice.

Rena. The girl whose body she now occupies.

Her mother had died here. Sick, and too poor to afford medicine. Rena stayed behind, a silent promise to herself to her mother. She tried to keep going. She tried to fix the cabin as best as she could. With the skill that she was taught with.This cabin, this stream—it was her joy. Her safe place. The only thing she truly ever knew in the world.

 I understand your sorrow. That deep hollow pain, that makes you vomit.

“Oh… my condolences, Rena.Death can be cruel, unfair, unfortunate. But all in all sad” Joleen whispers in Rena's voice, tears returning. Burning heat creeps up her face.

You spent your whole existence here. You're  young, and missed so much of the world… of life. But who am I to complain about wasted life?