Monsters often live with one eye over their shoulder unless they have an eye on their shoulder to begin with. It has taken decades, if not centuries, for them to relax from the medieval paranoia that plagued their being in their native homelands or environments. They see humans as prey, but most know how important it is to blend in.


    That said, tread carefully. Monsters are still dangerous creatures, and even now, they’re watching, and if they get a hint of your hidden intentions, you’ll never see them coming!


    Emma.


    “Emma,” Mom hissed in my ear with shaky words and sharp urgency. “You need to back away right now.”


    I complied without a second thought. Our target, a reformed dark witch mom simply referred to as Bianca, had been wandering around the grocery store and had come on as a nervous, timid wreck. That attitude completely changed in just a few minutes.


    Mom couldn’t take the chance to get close, and there was the possibility that Bianca would have recognized her voice. I had made the approach, and we confused her. She had been preoccupied so we used that, adding pressure to the potential threats. I had been Joey, while Mom had been the Joe.


    Mom stayed close to my side, and we proceeded toward the largest congestion of people. I thought about glancing over my shoulder, but I had no idea what I would do if Bianca was watching for us. Most of the time, if someone is looking for you, you give yourself away by double-checking your rear. A pursuer can lose sight of you among a sea of similar hair colors, and different shades of clothing. Bianca had acted bitter and indecisive, but the woman that had ended the conversation. She had shed her timid demeanor like a snake shedding its skin. Her ego was woven through her words, and she bled with confidence and had a model-level swagger; she accented her hips and straightened her back.


    Then there was that crackle. A real soul-shredding witch’s cackle.


    There are people who do impressions. There are people who command attention, and you respect the mood when they give the final word. Her cackle trumped any of those moments. Mom said nothing and tried to keep her pace even. For now, we had to simply be nothing more than a mother and daughter at the store. Mom''s complexion was pale, deathly pale. I pointed at a sale, and Mom nervously smiled, pretending to acknowledge me. The look in her eye had lost its usual twinkle, but I could tell she had one goal: we had to get out of there. Bianca’s attitude had been volatile and if she got curious, she would pick Mom out of a crowd. We pushed through a chatting group who were being watched by security guards, and they looked tired.


    I scanned the crowd, and Bianca was nowhere in sight, but that could change at a moment’s notice. She’d just have to strike up a casual conversation, have a minor accident, or ask an innocent question, which we’d impulsively attempt to avoid.


    It''s not a joke when I say that the things that start with “dark” are bad news. We had no cart, and there was no masking the urgency and concern, so we headed straight for the door. Once outside, we crossed the parking lot, and Mom got color back into her cheek once she turned the car on.


    “That was too close,” Mom hissed, but I knew she wasn’t looking for a reply.


    We drove around for several minutes, taking random streets and stopping carefully at each intersection while glancing through her mirror.


    “Are we clear?” I whispered.


    Mom nodded and called Dad.


    “We have names and some information, but I want to look into it.”


    “Roger that honey,” Dad said.


    “And let’s not do that again.” Mom said.


    I said nothing, but I was in complete agreement.


    Mom obeyed the speed limit, and we headed home without a moment’s delay. There was an obvious police presence and multiple first responders, but the real slap had begun to die down. Once at home, Dad conveyed to us that authorities hadn’t made any conclusive determination, but their initial investigation hadn’t yielded any larger cause for alarm.


    Tony and I both knew that there would probably be no determination. If what we had determined was right, and a dark witch had been mastermind. We had to assume this to be the first step.


    Two uneventful days later, I glanced at my phone to see a text from Mom asking me to swing by her diner. I joined Tony in the hallway, and we immediately headed to the entrance of Mom’s special domain, a door with a yellow stripe beside the washing machine. By outward appearance, the closet was a tall, narrow enclosure suitable for brooms, mops, and a thin vacuum and a little child playing hide and seek. I ducked inside, everything had been pulled out and three later I entered a vintage 50s diner complete with powder blue booths and a checkered floor; today, it was a mix of pink and green. There was a wide selection of memorabilia from sporting events to buttons and posters from both world wars and several presidential elections that were in display cases or tacked onto the wall. I could see a 50s street complete with people in the neighboring buildings, on street corners, and in the park partially hidden by a long line of shrubs. I had been here several times, and I knew it was Pop’s handiwork, but even then. It really felt that I had been taken back in time. Tony for his favorite leather bar stool colored in a shade Dad called “money green.” While Mom, meanwhile, worked at a shiny soda fountain while upbeat jazz music played from a neon jukebox while sitting in a far corner.


    I slid onto a stool next to Tony, who, unsurprisingly, was already halfway through his ice cream sundae. Once I was seated, it only took a minute before I had one of my own. Dad sat in a booth behind us, looking over something on his tablet, and graciously accepted a burger and fries from Mom as she strolled over and sat beside him. We enjoyed our food for a few minutes, and then Mom unfolded a menu and set it aside beside a metal rack where condiments were kept. Once in place, Mom put her fingers on select boxes titled Dinner, Drinks, and Desert. Upon contact, the ordering menus above my head vanished and were replaced by giant TV screens.


    “Alright, everyone,” Mom said, wiping her cheek with a napkin. “thanks to our haphazard encounter, we have reason to believe that at least one dark witch of concern is in this area. We were given names, and a hint as to where we could maybe start.”


    “Melanie Black,” Mom said, “But she goes by Mel on most of her public documentation and probably in her closest social circles.”


    A few details and an outdated picture appeared on the screens. The material was standard social media posts and law enforcement reports. She was far from a violent criminal, with several speeding tickets and some disorderly conduct citations. Mom cleared the screen as I sank my teeth into my food, but as new pictures appeared on the screen, the moment I saw them, my appetite went way down, even for any dessert.


    “They are considered to be dark witches?” Tony asked with a hard gulp and a fist against his chest.


    “Maya Elliott and Elise Meyer?” Mom said. Her tone was sharp, and she stirred her food around on her plate and then set down her fork.


    I could feel Bianca’s underlying disdain for these two, and just looking at them, I felt like Bianca had embraced the nice vindictive girl while speaking to the new girl at the back of the class, with gum on her shoe and mud across her face. That possibly meant they had history, or they had at least crossed paths, much to Binca’s distress. The simple memory of our conversation played in my mind, and I could see why these two would be at the top of Bianca’s list.


    “Both Elise and Maya seem like prime candidates as the probable mastermind behind the attacks,” Mom said. “They were both registered phantomists and have a history of wanting to pick a fight with M.A.G.E. Elise, the criminal queen, and Maya was a politician. Both were overeager, overzealous and thought they knew more than she truly did."


    “They’ve certainly been around the block,” Dad said, cleaning his mouth and taking a drink “And either of them certainly could have been behind the attacks, but we need to narrow it down.”


    “That is where Melanie will come in,” Mom replied. “And I’m not a fan of this because it was Bianca’s suggestion, based on what I found, I believe Melanie might have an ear to what’s going on and would know or be able to pin down who’s come to town and why.”


    Dad rested his arm on the counter and then motioned to the screen, “You have a third name there, in the corner. who’s that?”


    “Suzanna Sourblood,” Mom said with a twitch. “Bianca mentioned her by name, and she’s a powerhouse, but for the moment, it''s unlikely. Maya and Elise have been a bit more active and based on reports, if someone has attracted Suzy’s attention, she would have burned down the entire street.”


    “So, what do you suggest to get close to Melanie?” Tony jumped in. “Aren''t we on the clock to nail down a culprit sooner rather than later?”


    Dad pushed his plate away. We’d probably refer to this conversation as the appetite killer. “We’re on a tight leash, to be sure, but this is far from a werewolf running the Boston Marathon or some ogres causing problems on a construction site. A witch, if they are on the scene, they’re deal makers and skilled planners. They’re not brash.”


    “Aren’t you giving them a bit too much credit?” Tony asked.


    Dad shook his head, “You two have seen witches, but we’ve dealt with them, my parents have as well. There isn’t a one-fits-all label, but there are witches, and then there are dark witches. Their powers are untamed, and they don’t take kindly to prying eyes.”


    Dad then leaned on his hands and took a careful look at all of the images Mom had assembled.


    “I don’t think it smart to simply approach another witch until we have a little more information. We have names, but what we need is confirmation. Otherwise, we could be fighting someone’s battle for them.”


    Mom ran a napkin across her cheek. “I agree. Melanie might be a bit flaky or unwilling to talk to us unless we show indirectly that we know more than she thinks.”


    “So, we’ll plan it cool for the moment,” Tony asked.


    “We have too,” I added, “we’ve got more people watching for suspicious activity then they ever have.”


    “All good points to keep in mind,” Dad said, “The hysteria has died down a little bit, so I think we’ll back track to the Main Street attacks and see what people are talking about.”


    “And hopefully we’ll pick up on something that the authorities have overlooked,” I said.


    “Or disregarded,” Mom added.


    “That’s the idea,” Dad said, shifting in his seat toward Mom. “And from there we can assess the best approach. Hun, what do we know about this Melanie? Is she someone we need to actively be worried about?”


    In response, Mom removed the menu and flipped two pages. The screens changed when she returned it to the slot, and several more pictures appeared digitally dumped from a shoebox. Several photos, some polaroids, and others were more up-close portraits that were seriously sun damaged, nearly obscuring the entire image. There were subtle clues like a shoe, car, and outfit. I noticed some signs that hinted at historical events, fashion trends, and moments that undoubtedly had some relevance. Still, no phrase, title, or caption provided any detailed context.


    After the first dozen or so photos, Mom offered some commentary. “To answer that. These photos are from the 80s. As you can see-”


    I straightened as Mom cycled through photos. In each one, I recognized the facial features from the first photos, but they were in different clothes and were all taken in other locations spanning a few years to even a few decades. When I put her effort aside, which was considerable in how she dressed and carried herself. With effort, I could tell that her face was identical each time. We knew a lot based on experience, ancestors, journals, and Pop''s handiwork. Dark wizards and witches tended to live a long time, leaving a massive footprint in history’s footnotes, no pun intended.


    Mom settled on a picture of a riot outside a government office building and zoomed in to enhance the fading details.


    “Mel is a tough case to crack, and she is probably a good suspect to offer information because she is a noted supernatural activist masquerading as an animal rights activist. She started fighting the typical endangered species: cows, goats, horses, exotic cats, and birds. After a decade or so, she quickly changed course.”


    “Let me guess,” Tony said. “She fights for troll rights. Is that even a thing? Don’t most monsters have some kind of political rights and legal protections?”


    “Most do, and M.A.G.E has worked hard to secure them,” Mom confirmed, “which is why we’ve only dealt with the nastier ones.”


    “There are species of trolls, Imps, fairies, among others, who didn''t have the power to integrate into modern society.” Dad said, “The nocturnal, the occult ones like a wendigo and demons. These species still lurk in the shadows. They cause problems for the unsuspecting traveler. And they''re the kind of creature that keeps the Monster Hunter demographic in business.”


    I rose to my feet and leaned toward the screen. “Mel is fighting for the right to avenge the quote the brutal massacre of these misunderstood creatures. If she’s a witch, wouldn’t she be fighting to get C.O.V.E.N on board with the movement?”


    “Based on what I uncovered,” Mom said, “Mel did excel as a coven witch, but she didn''t have enough connections to secure a full-fledged job or gain any kind of recognition. She’s a washout.”


    “So, what is her real story?” Dad asked.


    “On paper, she not a protégé but rumor has it she runs a massive underground movement. She knows the heavy hitters, and she knows when power changes hands. She’ll aid in a monster''s petty crimes and almost has a law degree in monster law, if that was a thing,” Mom continued, “She''s potentially written the textbook of monster anatomy, customs, and habits. She was pretty knowledgeable about uncultured creatures, and there are suspicions that she has domesticated and protects several creatures who moonlight as her bodyguards. Some people think she has a secret society, but there are no publications or any indication of a secret network.”


    “Did MAGE issue any warrants to confirm that as a possibility?” Dad asked.


    “A few were issued in suspicion, but none were confirmed,” Mom replied. “The best anyone seems to know is that she''s been present at multiple demonstrations, some even on the same day. She is politically aggressive and has been cited to have a violent streak. M.A.G.E has questioned her in a few times, but they could not connect her to any wrongdoing.”


    “So, she’s connected and dedicated with skills that match her zeal,” Dad said, “that means we can’t just waltz right up to her front door.”


    “It would probably bite at our knees,” Tony added.


    “It’s likely,” Mom said, “Mel has been at this for a while so like a zookeeper on the grounds. The good one’s command serious loyalty.”


    “Sounds like we need to run a play to get intel,” Dad said, “We’ll need innocent conversations and chance encounters to see what she knows.”


    “We’ll have to get creative,” Tony said, “A lot of monsters would know and react if we had any enforcement active on approach. It might take too much to garner her trust.”


    “If a heavy hitter is in town,” I said, “she’ll probably be nervous, and she could let something slip. We just need the opportune moment.”


    It’s still going to be hard,” Tony said, “one wrong move and there would be very little we could do to ensure she doesn’t have some rabid wombat or pointy tooth goblins waiting to strike like a hit squad?”


    “That’s an extreme, but it’s possible.” Dad said, “But Mel has been smart. I doubt she’d be reckless to send creatures into a fight she wouldn’t know they couldn’t win.”


    “And a dark witch is a big deal,” I said,


    “Indeed,” Dad said in a reflective tone. He was putting pieces together, “but we have a chance to see her in a perplexed state. The longer we wait, the quicker our interaction window closes. If she’s worried, she might jump down a lair and wait it out.”


    “I just filled Pop in,” Mom said, “he’s willing to join in.”


    “That would be helpful,” Dad said, pulling out his phone. “It would be good just in case things go wrong. Tony, we''ll start with a broken-down driver. Pop can help me break a few things that we’ll take some time to fix.”


    “Our camera feeds could be helpful,” Mom said, “and if we could pass a few hours on her street. We could get a sense of her neighbors, her visitors and her general lifestyle.”


    Dad then turned to Mom, "That’s a good idea and if we have an opening and could leave a vehicle overnight, that would be a great way to get eyes on her. Jenna, while we tackle this, will you and Emma take the press or law enforcement badges and do a follow-up on the Main Street attacks?”


    “We’ll have to split up to maximize the badge effect,” I said.


    “As long as you stay in contact,” Dad insisted, “you should be fine. I wouldn’t linger for too long in one area, but see what you can do to press workers, owners, pedestrians, and anyone who is willing to talk. We need to see if anything jogs their memories.”


    “Emma,” Mom said I saw her motion to me, “let’s go to the wardrobe.”


    “Coming,” I said.


    “And above all,” Dad said, “keep an eye out for anyone loitering on the street. I would employ the usual measures to check for threats. Until we know more though, we must assume that whoever did this might come back for round two.”


    LATER IN THE DAY.“Thank you so much for your help,”


    Some phrases always seem hollow the twentieth time you say it. I handed off a business card with details and an alias that would come link to a special phone if they decided to call. No one ever did, but we needed to have multiple avenues active in order to get some information.


    After several hours and some strategically picked individuals, I set up shop in the corner drugstore. A few of the businesses had been completely cut off. I glimpsed portions of the destruction, but from a distance, there were no telltale signs of the villain and there hadn’t been any suspicious characters hanging around. So far, it seemed that people were bouncing back from the attack.


    The customer, a woman with dark hair, took the card and hastily set it in her purse before she took off toward the cashier. The drugstore had fared better than its neighboring buildings. The smoke smell was mild and there were mild scorch marks across the ceiling and along the conjoining wall.


    I tapped a pen against a notepad, but I hadn’t really noted anything worthwhile. Most people who had chatted with me had basically said that it had come out of nowhere. There had been a select few eager to speculate on any number of potential culprits and villains ranging from political figures, internet loudmouths, and some older high school teachers.


    Unlikely on all counts.


    Now, on my own, I relaxed my professional posture, quickly stashed my badge in an inside coat pocket, and moved to my knees, pretending to tie my shoe. After a moment, I rose and put a smile on my face. You can''t distract a large crowd very easily. There are too many variables to consider. I glanced at the options on the racks and shelves and kept an eye on the door to watch the woman leave. I wasn’t worried about crossing paths again, if we did, she wouldn’t have a clue who I was. It didn’t work so well in large groups like a large group of police officers. It would have been idiotic to infiltrate the chaos in the moment. For small groups and a face-to-face, my badge was loaded with distractionary enforcement. With one of these on hand, its inner workings had a charged focus on a fictional idea, like being a seasoned detective instead of being a neighbor or a resident. I wasn’t wearing latex, glasses, or a wig and thanks to the badge, I didn’t need to. The badge needed to be charged for a few minutes, and its case kept it active. So, until I needed it again, or if the charge timed out, as long as I had it put away, as far as anyone else was concerned, I was just another patron shopping around. It was a fantastic way to get information in an area where someone might know me. This did present challenges because I couldn’t fool anyone for very long, especially if they knew who I was, even the quickest of conversations could cause problems. In addition, if a subject had any ties to my parents or grandparents, I had to avoid any personable questions. Fortunately, since most of my high school teachers had retired, and we had a university that brought a steady influx of new people in their twenties I had a better chance of questioning people who had no clue who I was and would take the badge a bit more seriously. I was the furthest thing from an official detective or a federal agent, but they don’t exactly have rules about dealing with mythological and supernatural creatures. My task centered on looking the part and as long as I could act, genuinely act and keep people’s attention on the badge instead of the face holding it. I didn''t have to worry about anyone calling me out for being a phony.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    After a few minutes, I checked my watch, and once I was sure that the coast was clear. I decided to head out to the parking lot. Mom had taken similar tools into other neighboring businesses, and it was about time to come back together. I waited for a few cars to pass the building and then I crossed toward a shaded area where I noticed our car next to a yellow fire hydrant sandwich between two large cement posts painted in a matching shade.


    “How did it go,” Mom asked as I climbed inside.


    I padded at the pocket where I had placed my badge. "It worked like a charm, just like Pop said it would. Sadly, out of a half dozen people I had been able to interview, no one had any current information to share, and most weren’t too keen on sharing; they were getting mad or were incredibly nervous. I got blown off a few times. There were some comments of maybe either a pair or group of teenagers came into a store and asked for directions, but no one was sure.”


    “I heard something similar about directions but mine were adults,” Mom said as she pulled the car out of the stall and headed to the road, "Illusions and glamors can affect people in several different ways, so they could all be right and at the same time, they could all be wrong."


    I folded my arms, " I guess that is one of the perks of having a dark witch as your employer."


    Mom looked at me and nodded, "I won''t argue with you about that."


    Once we were on the road, Mom hit the gas, and we headed into a residential area where Halloween was now in full force. Several large yards were now proud cemeteries of grotesque skeletons, severed limbs, and Grim-looking statues. The further we ventured into the subdivision; I caught glimpses of witches riding brooms who had unceremoniously crashed into a tree. There was caution tape across some bushes and some lengthy fences. Mom crossed an intersection, and once we neared a School Zone, there were child-friendly displays with décor ranging from plastic or real jack-o''-lanterns, along with witches who had crashed into one part of someone''s house instead of their trees. There were also large houses with inflatable decorations with licensed characters like Mickey Mouse or the cheesy yellow Minions who were dressed like clowns, wearing a Dracula-inspired cape or an oversized wizard''s hat.


    “Did you learn anything else of note?” She had an excellent poker face, and I got the feeling that she was suspicious, but hadn’t come to any conclusion. Mom tapped the steering wheel. “I managed to find a reporter who willingly let me into the studio, which wasn''t too far up the street. There weren’t a lot of people there, but I got worried that the badge’s enforcement would attract the attention of the studio’s in-house legal team.”


    “Did you threaten a warrant?” I asked.


    Mom shook her head. “Luckily, I didn’t have to, and no one seemed suspicious of me. In fact, they were quite accommodating. I thought I''d struck gold, getting a chance to see the unedited reels.”


    “Did the attempt go south?”


    “It did,” Mom said, “because the reporter was willing to help me, but he had to run my request up the chain of command, so he went to talk to a producer, who was on a conference call, and it got complicated real quick. I wanted to push, but I was afraid the badge might power down since I hadn’t been able to close the case to charge it.”


    "I had a similar problem when I ran into a group from the campus. They’re a bit more inquisitive despite- Oh hey, dad''s trying to call."


    I turned on the monitor as Mom cleared a new intersection. After about a block, we pulled over beside an elementary school’s soccer field. A few balls had been left in the grass, and even from a distance, I could see shadows bouncing up and down inside the hallway, meaning the school was still in session.


    “Hey honey,” Mom said. “Any news?”


    Dad huffed, "Well apart from confirming that we have a ton of friendly people in the neighborhood. We had a good setup and a good vantage point, but we were unable to make contact. We caught a few quick glimpses of Melanie, but she never spoke to us, and she came off flustered, if not tense.”


    “It stands to reason that she’d worry about the dark witch,” Mom said.


    “We came to that conclusion as well,” Dad said, “but we didn’t see any threats and she had no visitors, but she left in a hurry about twenty minutes ago.”


    “Are you trailing her?” I asked.


    “We tried,” Dad said, “but we had to put everything back together and by the time we had done that, we had lost track of her.”


    “So, it is possible that someone was following her,” Mom said.


    “Possibly,” Dad said, “We all agree that she looked super concerned and laser-focused about something, but it’s anyone’s guess what was on her mind. She’s pretty good at evasive tactics because she was only ahead of us by two, maybe three minutes.”


    “Where would she go?” Mom said, “If no one came to visit and if she’s not a target. Is she worried? Or is she planning to commit some kind of crime? Maybe she’s supporting a new movement.”


    “I think,” Dad began, but then Tony cut in and there were multiple cars honking off in the distance.


    “Did you find her?” Mom pressed.


    I heard some more engine noises and multiple car horns before Dad could reply. “It appears that she went up Main Street and blew through a few subdivisions; we found her loitering on a corner, which was annoying several people. My best guess is that she''s heading towards the high school."


    "We''re not too far from there." Mom said, checking her mirrors to move onto the road, "What is the make and model of her car and-"


    Mom trailed off as shadows overtook the sky, darkening it for several seconds while a swift gust blew leaves, twigs, dirt, and small rocks against our windshield.


    “What happened?” Dad demanded, “That gust! It wasn’t natural! It knocked two cars onto the sidewalk.”


    I tipped my head to look toward the sky, feeling speechless.


    “I’m not sure,” Mom began as an eclipse engulfed the sky, washing the houses, the school, and the soccer field in thick shadows. The whole thing took place in a short span of just a few seconds, and then sunlight cut through the darkness. It appeared through some trees towering over the homes in front of us and then it webbed itself over the area until things were back to normal.


    “Dad,” I said, “I think this is round 2.”


    The words slipped off my tongue and seconds later, the entire street flooded with several dozen high school students, all coming around the corner in a full sprint. Several of them carried jackets, junk food, textbooks, and papers, which they discarded as unholy screams split the air, drowning out the traffic. Several cars pulled off the road, and a few faster students rushed past our vehicle, panicking, scrambling out of desperation and visible dread.


    I cracked the door just as one of the students yelled, “Ghosts!”


    “Did I hear ghosts?” Dad called.


    Neither of us replied as the students reached us, and the stampede of students rocked our car while some were knocked into the hood or our doors as they desperately attempted to get away. When a break occurred, Mom and I jumped out of the car at the same time some of the locals came onto the sidewalk or wandered into their yards to get a sense of the commotion. Mom and I exchanged glances and did our best to avoid the oncoming crowd as the temperature dropped. Autumn weather can be brisk, but I rarely had ever seen my breath this time of year before 5 pm in the afternoon.


    If the temperature drops rapidly and without warning. That is the telltale sign of ghosts.


    Ghosts break all the rules. The first visual incorporeal entities appeared beside some trees, and they soared through the air wearing long, tattered cloaks, and they extended thin arms with clawed fingers. After about the first twelve, a wave of young students appeared, and they were being taunted by marshmallow-shaped clouds covered in sheets. We hurried forward and several other adults hurried to save the kids from being plowed over. I helped a teenage boy to his feet and flinched when I saw multiple disfigured bodies that had once been soldiers, knights, and commoners from ancient history. With each new wave of ghosts, there were new waves of cold. I clenched my fists as they all came tumbling around the corner with eager smiles and arms over their heads as they made unholy and stomach-churning noises.


    “Emma,” Mom exclaimed. Her face went white, and for a split second, her skin seemed tinted purple. “This is no accident. The ghosts, they’re here because they’ve been compelled.”


    I don’t think we need additional evidence that a dark witch was in town.


    I shot Mom a thumbs up as throat sounds drowned out additional comments, but I knew what she would say. Brisk cold washed over the street, and the high schoolers screamed in unfettered terror. The locals motioned to a few kids who graciously accepted the chance to get inside a home, which was honestly the safest place these people could be. Ghosts whether they’re hapless visitors or compelled henchmen. They haunt buildings, and they can cause nightmares and insomnia when given a chance to interact with non-living things, like pots, pans, pipes, pianos, Bluetooth speakers, etc. It is a process, and unlike popular culture, monsters can’t enter a dwelling unless sufficiently empowered or invited in.


    The cold and the sheer number of them. Along with the notion that they were here to do someone’s bidding. That meant they would have more substance and could cause bodily harm.


    I dialed Dad.


    “We have a literal herd of ghosts by the high school,” I yelled the moment he picked up. Dad said something, but my attention split as a few robed ghosts broke from the pack and began taunting small groups of kids bunkered down at the base of trees instead of trying to move through the crowd. One ghost in particular, a woman with wild hair and sunken features, centered her attention on some young girls. One older than the rest attempted to shield the younger ones. Who kept their eyes tightly shut, and they gripped their protector with trembling fingers.


    “We’re coming!” Dad bellowed. It hurt my ear, but I ended the call and sprinted toward the tree.


    I think I’ll call you Hideous Helen. I thought as I hurried toward them. There were so many ghosts, but Helen stood out as one of the worst. Most ghosts tend to exhibit a growl, a howler, or some kind of cry. Helen smiled and let out a cackle that overtook her demeanor, and she cocked her head toward the sky. For one brief second, I caught sight of a malicious twinkle in her eye, along with a mostly toothless grin. A few students who had been close by shuffled in place or skidded to a halt in bewildered surprise or utter terror. A few students further behind managed to pull away while the rest fell to their knees or collapsed, wholly overtaken by unconquerable fear.


    I didn’t like doing this kind of thing out in the open, but I couldn’t just watch. Helen’s glee was unnerving, and I wanted to sleep at night.


    Mom hurried up beside me and handed me one of Pop’s inventions; a collapsible baton composed of iron alloys. From experience, I knew there were many ways to deal with ghosts, such as salt and iron. Pop built this baton with many features, from a dagger to extending several feet, nearly becoming a spear. The options were essential for close quarters combat or public spaces with many moving people, which could obstruct my field of vision. I opted to split my baton into two parts. That way, I could strike from either side.


    “I’ve got the ugly one!” I said, motioning toward Helen, who wiggled her fingers at a kid who was now heavily crying on the older student’s shoulder.


    “It''s ok!” the older student said, but her consolation fell mute against the screams, wails, and cries of everyone close by. I rushed forward and vaulted over a car, swiping at Helen, who shot a glance over her shoulder and then rose higher into the air. I watched her move but couldn’t do anything as my attention fell on Mom, who had split her baton in two as I had done. She hurried into the crowd''s heart, encircled by several ancient warriors wearing animal skins and carrying spears. Just beyond them, I spotted a burly lumberjack laughing like an evil Santa as he swiped at kids'' heads with an axe. The kids screamed and tried to duck for cover, and with each yelp or tumble, it only made him laugh harder and gear up for a new strike with more force and enthusiasm.


    “Ha Ha!” The lumberjack roared, and he held up his axe as some Viking-looking ghosts, complete with animal skins across their shoulders and horned helmets. They pounded their chests and rushed across a field where, unsurprisingly, there were large kids, undoubtedly football players, ushering those around them away from the street.


    I sprinted toward the lumberjack, tightening my grip as I lashed out, catching his axe with one baton a second before striking at his chest with my second one. The lumberjack grumbled, spit, and then coughed before his form disintegrated.


    Ghosts tend to have a semi-solid substance. That lets them interact with the living world, and certain kinds of metals can counteract their ability to maintain their form. I felt several pairs of eyes on me, and I heard their footfalls as I straightened up. From the corner of my eye, I watched groups of kids hurry toward the closest houses, where they were all rushed inside. I ducked from view as Helen hovered in the air with her arms across her chest. She watched the distinct groups and then glided overhead, clacking and pointing at specific students who immediately became the target of new ghosts. Several looked like butlers, lawyers, and individuals who had all suffered gruesome and horrific deaths.


    Helen, I wondered. It had seemed realistic, but she was more in control than I had initially considered. Are you the ringleader?


    I made a note to check with Mom, but Helen had the undivided attention of her ghostly counterparts. Where she pointed, the nearest one responded. I moved back into the street, swiping at each ghost I could. The number of students just kept growing, and the fear everyone exhibited created mass pandemonium where several of the younger students were either bullied into corners or found themselves pinned to the ground as their classmates trampled them in a desperate effort to escape, but in the end, the most aggressive students only seemed to stumble and trip and then they were on the ground themselves.


    This is a well-coordinated attack. I helped some kids to their feet and knocked a musket-wielding soldier into a trash can. By now, I was breathing heavily and sweat plastered against my face.


    They just keep coming. Helen and the other ghosts, a bizarre combination of hooded figures, soldiers, and missing limbs. Individuals on horseback, both soldiers and Cowboys, all seemed pleased with the chaos.


    “Mom!” I called out, but I had lost sight of her in the crowd. I jogged to the next house.


    “Get out of the way!” someone yelled as I came within striking distance of another soldier who, noticing me, decided to heed the advice instead of attacking me. I took a quick look but couldn’t pinpoint the speaker. I hesitated but then spotted Helen, who had decided to move down towards an unsuspecting group of students. I looked around for the speaker, but failing again, I set my sight on Helen, who had assumed a toddler-like demeanor as students rushed through heavy piles of leaves before taking refuge in a garage.


    This isn’t fun for them, Helen. I advanced toward the open garage, and Helen, who circled this street a few times, grabbed a broad-shouldered boy and pushed him into a garbage can. Then she turned and looked at the house.


    Why are you looking at the house? I wondered. You can''t go in.


    I cleared the hedge, intending to put up a fight. But I hadn''t stepped more than a dozen. Steps onto the grass before I heard screams coming from inside the house. I looked at the door, and then I looked back at Helen, who put one hand on her chest; she put the other up in the air as though she was trying to dance with an invisible partner.


    How had they managed to do that?


    “This is unexpected,” I muttered as two mummy ghosts appeared, and they had their attention squarely on me. I moved back as the mummies opted to pursue. Ghosts are a weight class all of their own. There are many kinds of spirits. In the standard human form, reflective from some period, there are zombie-like ghosts, flowing clouds of mist, some ghosts called seekers, haunters, ghouls, wraiths, phantoms, and poltergeists. Every culture has historical stories about them, and with the right amount of fear, and belief in superstition, they can do way more than just say boo, mess with your cabinets, and or change a room''s temperature. One of the mummies lunged at me. And I dove forward managing to come out into a roll to avoid getting tackled. Luckily the mummy duo moved slowly. And they were hardly able to bend their knees. It wasn’t just a thematic look, they were the ghosts of real mummies, so they were limited by their form. As I came up, the second one launched an attack, and I knocked him down with my baton. I didn''t have the most incredible reach. But fending off one after the other allowed them to strike quickly and it afforded me a small window that limited my ability to get away, and that window was shrieking with each passing second. Us Fosters, we’re good but we still get tired.


    I blocked several additional attacks, mostly swipes and using their thick arms as clubs. The first one came at me, and his attack was followed by his buddy. Then, with a single-moment advantage. I rushed the pair of ghosts. Their jaws hung loose, but I got the impression they were furious or maybe surprised as they disintegrated. True to form, ghosts and iron or salt just don''t mix.


    Now cleared, I spotted a mom fending off another lumberjack while three robed figures glided into view. They sat a considerable distance away, and surprisingly, Helen laughed when she acknowledged their arrival.


    Now, who are you three? There were other ghosts wearing robes, but unlike those that could be mistaken for monks, sorcerers, or bandits with clues highlighting how they died or the kind of life they had lived. These three looked different. They stood in a triangle formation; two stood a step behind the third and didn’t look like zombies or poor spirits who had been ripped from the afterlife.


    These three were different, but Helen’s cackle drew my attention back to her.


    One problem at a time. I took a long, hard look at the three-robed figures but then turned my attention back to Helen as she glided closer and closer to a window. If the ghosts could get into houses, something else would be in play, moving things from dangerous to deadly. I clicked my batons back together, then clicked a section that linked the two halves with a cable attachment. With this feature, they basically became nun chucks, but they had a much longer space between them. I grabbed one hand while I spun the other and cleared the distance to move in for a strike.


    I wasn’t entirely sure if it would help, but I was confident Helen needed to go.


    Helen reached toward a window, and I had a split second to set the best position. I withdrew a portion of the cable and put my hand grip on it for the best use of force. I doubted I’d get more than one shot at this.


    “Get down!” I heard the same male voice call out. The moment he spoke, I felt that the command was meant for me. I pulled my tool back and dove to the grass as a firework-level shot cracked through the chaos. I rolled onto my back and got to my feet as Helen screamed in indignation. I worried she was about to throw a fit and cause even more trouble, but then I spotted the smoke, and Helen padded at her legs as sapphire blue fire engulfed her skirt.


    Ghost fire.


    I couldn’t see the shooter, and the outburst hadn’t sounded like Dad, but my gut instinct was to look at Mom; she had no gun. The fire engulfed Helen, who flapped her arms and tried to escape higher into the air, but she had lost all control, and the ghosts nearby panicked and began to flee, except for the three-robed ghost monks. They lingered where I had seen them and appeared content to watch the events unfold.


    I considered moving toward them, but something inside me made me feel twisted and uncertain. There was no dizziness or disorientation, but their mere presence sent chills up my spine. The screams, shouts, and cries carried down the street, and school officials were poking their heads outside. I spotted several running across the field to check the situation, and was of them was the school resource officer. It had all happened so fast and unsurprisingly, the street was beginning to clear. It was all moving really fast, and the shot. That was going to make headlines.


    As the street cleared, I felt my wits return, and I joined the crowd to hopefully avoid getting singled out by the oncoming help and I moved to find Mom to give her cover. While on the move, only a few feet ahead near a group of students in PE clothes, I spotted two people: a woman in a white fedora and a man wearing a heavy coat, which looked suspiciously like it could conceal a firearm. He kept one arm close to his chest while ushering students away from the area with the other. I pushed myself to get close. Their outfits screamed shady, and I got the feeling they were monster hunters. I scanned the street for Mom, but the duo appeared equally eager to escape, and she was nowhere in sight.


    “Emma,” Mom said, coming up beside me.


    “Those two,” I said, I tried to point them out, but the crowd had grown fairly large.


    “They’re not important,” Mom said, and I followed her gaze, which fell on the three robed ghosts who drew their hoods over their faces, and they turned to leave. Mom stiffened as she followed their movements.


    “Mom, who are those three ghosts?”


    Mom didn’t reply, but the look she gave those three ghosts could have frozen a blaze on a three-story building. I could see that she was genuinely disturbed that they were there. Once the three ghosts were a considerable distance away, I choked back a gasp as Mom pursued them. We typically didn’t do something so rash, but I trusted her instincts nonetheless, and I wasn''t going to let her do anything alone, so I followed. We came to the next corner, and something about the ghost struck me as odd. They weren''t savage. They weren''t scary. Something about them was different, and the only word that came to my mind was powerful. But I did not understand why. After the first block and then into the second. The ghosts did not pick up speed. Nor did they seem aware that we were coming after them. Gradually, though, we began to wear down. As we came to a stop beneath a shade tree, I noticed several of the neighboring yards completely torn up. The skeletons had been ripped apart and thrown around like shredded paper. Monster statues had been pushed over or smashed. Some displays simply were missing hands. Then there were garbage cans. streamers. broomsticks. witch’s hats. Along with multiple plastic bags, used tissues, wrappers, and moldy food had been discarded from shredded trash bags that now lined the sidewalk and the gutter. The undoubtedly pristine cul-de-sac was now in complete disarray.


    “Emma, we''ve got to catch those three ghosts.” Mom began.


    “Mom,” I interrupted, quickly ducking beside a large SUV. “Look over there.”


    Mom hesitated but then pulled back to my side as I pointed down a second cul-de-sac equally torn up and destroyed like the first. The one big difference idled in the middle of the road: a garbage truck. It moved a few inches and then we watched six garbage men rushing across each of the respective yards, grabbing decorations that they tossed into the back of their trucks. One by one, each house was ransacked like children digging through a toy chest. A few workers considered using the garbage cans, but they only moved him a few feet before they tossed the contents onto the street.


    “Those aren''t garbage men,” I said.


    “Definitely goblins,” Mom confirmed. “But what are they doing? They like getting dirty, but this isn’t typical behavior.”


    The garbage men piled onto the truck once their job was completed and after a few seconds. It slowly began to inch forward. Once it moved a few feet, we saw someone, Melanie Black.


    “What are you doing?” Melanie yelled.


    Over the deep, throaty purr of the garbage truck, I could barely hear her pleading with the garbagemen to listen to her as she questioned and seemingly offered warnings against their actions. Garbage trucks don''t typically move very fast. And Melanie didn''t have any problem keeping up beside it. Yeah, with each word she spoke, the Garbagemen just ignored her. As she drew closer, I could hear desperation and concern in her voice.


    “You''re stealing decorations. There are a lot of people who aren''t going to be happy with this. This isn''t gonna go over well for all of you."


    The garbage truck moved into the street and began to pick up speed. Melanie stayed by his side for several feet. And she and she shouted plea after plea, question after question. But when that didn''t do any good, she moved to the other side to try to talk to the others.


    “Talk to me, please,” Melanie begged. “What are you doing? This doesn''t make any sense!”


    The truck speed was getting a bit harder for Melanie to keep up. She tried her best, and Mom and I watched it unfold.


    “You''re going to undo all of our hard work. You''re putting this entire agenda in jeopardy.”


    We followed the rest of the block, and Melanie slowed down as we reached the next intersection. Her breathing was suddenly labored, and she had tears in her eyes.


    “Mom, are you seeing this?” I whispered. Dad had reasoned Melanie had been up to something, but this had been the last thing I would have expected.


    Mom didn''t reply, and the questions seemed to hang in midair as a circle of glossy turquoise caught my eye. I hurried and plucked it out of the gutter. It was a coin roughly the size of a 50-cent piece. The surface was surprisingly smooth, but I noticed small indentations similar to sanded wood or weathered seashells.


    Where did you come from? I was intrigued. But then a steep chill washed over the entire St. I saw the darkness coming but didn''t realize what was happening. For 10 seconds, the cold lingered, and almost at once, it was replaced with a burst of intense warmth. In an instant, it was going in. The street plunged into darkness. The eclipse spread across the street, and it zipped over the houses and the trees, moving toward the sch-


    I felt impaired. I spread my legs and chanced, looking around to get a sense of my bearings. I heard a *whoosh and then the rumble of a weary engine. The darkness cleared, and I found my intention in a plastic Jack-O-Lantern sitting in the back of the garbage truck. I wouldn''t have noticed otherwise by the darkness highlighting it, smoking white eyes that glowed and struck my eyes like staring into the high beams of oncoming traffic.


    I felt a hand on my shoulder.


    “Emma, it''s time we go.”


    “Right behind you,” I said. I felt stupid as it came out of my mouth. It should have sounded similar, but I felt indecisive and timid. Then there was the strange coin I had picked up.


    I moved to put the coin in my pocket, but when I looked up, I stumbled and stuttered when the three robbed ghosts stood in my path. I could only see small portions of their faces. The rest sat obscured behind shadows, their translucent composition and the depth of their deep, almost monk or Jedi-like robes.


    “No reservation Emma Foster.” The middle one said with a matter a fact tone.


    “What?” I said. I blinked twice and then they were gone.


    “Emma!” Mom called as sirens blasted through the neighborhood which shook me out of my stupor. I brushed it off the mixed emotions and followed Mom back to the car. There were a lot more questions than answers. Goblins were stealing Halloween decorations; a dark witch had attacked the magical government agents, and now, for some unknown reason, a large army of ghosts had been unleashed on the town.


    I climbed into my seat and was about to put the turquoise coin into the drink holder when I paused, feeling a subtle warmth tingle across my palm.