At five in the morning, amid soft whirring of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the periodic thrum of cars driving by outside, her alarm woke Theora from a very long dream.

Memories ran haywire in her mind; pieces of dream and reality intermingled, disorienting her, making her dizzy. Old cogs in her head came back to life after it had been devising an imaginary world of magic and faux heroism for far too long.

The constant vibrations next to her pillow took her further and further away from that place, with the glaring sound of her favourite song piercing her mind. Muscle memory kicked in — she tapped the alarm shut, and her shoulder cracked a little as she reached. She’d halfway shed her thin blanket throughout the night. She pulled down her oversized shirt; it had shooting stars on it. Cute.

Right. She’d printed that herself with Serim’s help, years ago.

And then she’d put it on the night before.

That dream had really messed her up, to forget all that, if just for a moment.

Her back cracked as she pushed herself up; it hurt a little, probably from sleeping partly on the blanket. She rubbed a bit of sand out of her eyes, scratched her hair and noticed it was getting greasy. She might not have time to shower before work, but she could do it after.

It took her a few blinks of staring at the device that had woken her up to finally recognise what it was — her phone.

When had she last seen her phone?

But there it was, all rectangular and sleek, made up of a display, with a little dot blinking green at the top.

Her phone. She’d been using it for years. Of course she had — without it, she’d be late for work all the time, and she wouldn’t be able to listen to Serim’s playlists.

When a light pushed past the room, Theora dragged the rose-coloured curtain aside. A little neon sign hung over a shop across the street. Then, her hand still holding onto the curtain, she noticed that something was missing.

During her dream, for hundreds of years, she’d always had a red crystal bracelet on her wrist. But her wrist was empty now.

But… didn’t she actually use to have one like that? She’d stopped wearing it because work and volunteer guidelines often disallowed wearing trinkets.

The whirring noise called her attention back into the apartment — that faint buzz from her refrigerator, yes. She’d noticed that while dozing. It was unlike anything she’d heard in a while.

Why did the world feel so foreign and familiar at the same time? Like returning to your childhood home after decades, but nothing inside had changed; a discovery of surroundings and memories at once.

Her calendar hung next to a desk full of undone paperwork, illuminated by the glow of the town. Paperwork, of all things. And looking at it made her anxious.

This was so confusing. Was she inside another book? Had she fallen into DespairLit?

The little light on her phone kept blinking, so she unlocked the display to take a peek. Two new messages. The first:

Serim: daily reminder to take your meds

Meds. Medication. She instinctively looked at her night desk — there they were.

Right. This wasn’t DespairLit, this was just reality.

The second message came from an unknown number and read, ‘Hey! Did that work?’

Theora frowned and put the phone away. Somehow, she’d already spent fifteen minutes sitting around. She vaguely knew that was bad, so she got up to find some wearable clothes in the huge heap next to her bed. She settled on another shirt that looked and smelled only lightly worn, a pair of cargo pants that were only lightly stained, and a blue jacket, since it looked chilly outside and the calendar claimed it was the end of October.

She managed to write a reply to Serim while brushing her teeth.

You: Thank you. I would have totally forgotten.

Serim: so did you take em?

Oh. Of course she hadn’t. It took a while to figure out the correct dosage, but eventually, she was able to reply with, ‘Yes.’

Serim: good

Serim: don't forget the costume

Theora stared at the message with a deep frown. What costume? Costume for what?

Her appointments, in calendar and on her phone, had nothing, but she found the necessary context hidden in the message log — Serim had invited Theora to a costume party a few days earlier.

Theora swallowed. She only had one costume.

It was too late to back out now, so being a bit of a bad girl, she left this for future Theora to worry about… which was probably how past Theora had gotten her into this situation in the first place — and that was understandable, because costume parties were scary. They were still scary, so Theora pushed it out of her mind albeit feeling somewhat bad about it; but perhaps she’d be lucky and future Theora would be a kind girl and forgive her current self.

Ready to leave, she finally mustered the energy to reply to that other message, saying, ‘You must have the wrong number.’

Writing this felt somewhat unkind because she might have just forgotten who this person was. Asking about that would have been even more stressful, though.

Theora put her hand on the brass door handle of her entry door when, again, she noticed her wrist empty. For a few seconds she only felt the cold metal against her fingers.

Then she let go.

Theora did not want to leave home again without her bracelet. She’d be late, but it was fine, she could just work at the cemetery a bit longer. The dead would wait for her.

And indeed, she did find it, after about twenty minutes of search, tucked away in a box with her childhood belongings. Clicking it onto her arm made her feel safer, somehow. Where had she even gotten it?

Exiting the building, she stopped onto an empty, thin street — not the same one her bedroom was facing — and found herself in front of a sloped concrete wall; the street was ascending sharply outside of the small entry area that had been levelled next to it. There was a door in the wall, and Theora somehow knew to open it with one of her keys, and found her motorcycle crammed inside the small storage space.

Right, she had an adventuring bike. After they’d increased her area of operation, she’d had to abandon her previous means to get on scene. The bike looked like a relic of old times. Millennia gone by.

Theora didn’t remember there being any phones or bikes in her dream fantasy; at least not outside obscure stories. Dreams could feel so realistic, it was scary. She heaved the machine under her arm and carried it out on the street, earning a snort from one of her neighbours who was fetching her mail.

“How can you even carry that thing? Just leave it outside.”

“I don’t want to take away anyone’s parking space,” Theora said, trying to figure out how to start it. Then she realised that she’d forgotten her helmet — she wore it not because she needed it, but because she did not want to set a bad example for people who saw her. Luckily, the helmet was inside the small storage compartment too.

The phone buzzed again right before she wanted to leave.

Unknown: What’s a number?

Theora’s frown went a little deeper. She would have had more patience for this, she really would have — if she wasn’t already late for work, and if she wasn’t still so confused, and if the person wasn’t being so difficult.

You: Sorry. I need to get going. I don’t have time.

Unknown: Right! That’s what you went in there to fix, after all.

Theora had never in her entire life felt so tempted to block someone. Perhaps it was a poorly written bot. She did not have much to get scammed out of besides the scant remainder of her dignity, and she’d lose that at the party anyway.

So, ignoring the message, she drove off.

Theora had to take care of three local cemeteries. She cut the grass, watered plants, cleaned the graves and dug new ones, and sometimes, she’d bury people. Today, she was at the town’s forest graveyard. It was her favourite out of the three.

She drove home after completing her work day, took a shower to get the dirt and sweat off herself, put on some faint make-up, and then pushed her only costume into a bag. She would not drive through town in this, obviously. People knew her. They would not see a stranger driving around in an embarrassing outfit; they would see Theora drive around in it.

Serim and two of her friends were squatting in a little abandoned house at the edge of the town. It was a run-down place, held together by tape and glue and planks and nails. Serim’s surplus income and time went into things other than organising repairs for a place that, according to her, was ‘just fine’. But the storms were getting stronger by the year, and Theora couldn’t help but worry.

The yard was growing wild, which made for cosy summer nights — especially when they lay on the suspect roof of the little shed, surrounded by silvergrass grazing their dangling feet. Theora knocked at the entry door, breaking off a little more of dried, crimson paint. Muffled music and voices came from inside. She was probably late; Serim liked to start early after a short Friday because some friends of hers had to work weekends. That said, others would probably stay the night.

The door opened to a smiling face. Mira, if Theora remembered right. Long black hair, dressed up as a vampire, with little trails of ‘blood’ running down the corners of her mouth.

“Already ate everyone,” she said, grinning. “You’re too late to save them.”If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I can still hold their last rites.”

Mira’s eyes went wide for a moment, and she silently mouthed a ‘wow’.

“Told you she’s great at parties,” another voice said, maybe sarcastically, and a young man in a suit swept into the doorframe. He had some fake mushrooms on him and looked like he was being overtaken by nature. He pulled the door out of Mira’s hands to let Theora in. “I think the bathroom’s free, if you want to get changed.”

Theora nodded and moved past, eyes at the ground to avoid provoking additional social interactions for her to mess up. She left the lights off in the bathroom, dropped her jacket, got out of her pants, and pulled out her bunny suit.

It had long cotton gauntlets for the arms, a revealing dress that connected to her neck but left most of the back and some of the front exposed, and a pair of short pants — leaving her legs out in the open too, but at least she did not have to worry about sitting down.

To her horror, it had gotten very tight; apparently she’d changed a bit over the years. To her delight, the matching hair circlet with long bunny ears and colourful ribbons was still just as cute as she remembered, and this piece was why she owned this costume in the first place.

It was a decent compromise. Theora could live with this. She practised a careful smile at the dark mirror.

All things considered, this was a really bad Halloween costume, but it was a costume, and thus technically matched the requirements, so Serim wouldn’t complain.

Stealthily exiting the bathroom, Theora went to stuff her belongings into her usual spot in the cupboard of the entrance room. The buzz was concentrating in the kitchen, so she went to at least say hello to Serim.

On her way, Theora was startled by someone suddenly shouting, “Wow!”

It took a moment for Theora to realise that this was a reaction to her. Oh, gosh. Had she overdone it?

“Pris, shut up,” another woman next to Pris hissed — her name was probably Clee; Theora imagined it was short for ‘Clementine’.

Pris raised her arms in defence. “What, I couldn’t help it!” Her round glasses were threatening to slip off her nose, so she pushed them up.

“You’ll only make her more self-conscious,” Clee said, giving Theora a sympathetic nod.

“She should know. That’s all I’m saying.” She looked at Theora. “You look good. Glad you made it.”

“You are irredeemable.”

Theora gave them a small nod of wanting-to-get-away and moved past.

Meanwhile, Serim was unhelpfully sitting on a kitchen counter doing nothing except limiting the space the others had to work with while cutting countless vegetables. She was clothed entirely in black, which was not unusual for her, but this time bright stripes in the shape of human bones went along her body.

“Oh, there you are,” she went in her melodic voice, waving Theora over. She hopped off the counter to give Theora a hug, when Theora reciprocated, Serim’s skeleton costume flashed alight. “Ah, sorry,” Serim went, pretending to struggle to shut it off, “It’s just that you’re so electrifying.”

Theora tilted her head and raised her brows. “Do you say that to everyone?”

With a lopsided grin, Serim looked up at Theora, brown eyes blinking. “Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Help me move the table?” She lit her costume again as she pointed to the centre of the living room area adjacent to the kitchen.

“Really?” Theora let out a small sigh. Everybody around seemed to be busy, and the music drowned her low voice, so she added, “Is that why I’m here? You could have just asked me to come over yesterday.”

“What? No way. I mean, I could have asked you to do it yesterday, but I’d still have invited you to the party. Just wanna show you off.”

“Exactly,” Theora murmured. “That’s not happening. Please help me move it.” Nothing good came of letting people know that things were slightly different when it came to Theora.

Serim rolled her eyes half-seriously but indulged, hopping off the counter. “By the way, you alright?”

Theora shrugged as they stepped towards the table. “I’ve been feeling a bit off. I had a dream tonight. I think it’s messing with me.” She closed her eyes to focus its details back, but they were rather fleeting.

It was a table for about twenty people, but Serim typically kept it pushed against the long wall so it would take up less space. She had already wrapped a rope around the legs on the other side so Theora could take it into one hand, and grab onto the table with the other.

Serim went to the other side, to pretend she would be helping. “What kind of dream? I thought you didn’t dream a lot.”

Theora nodded. “I don’t tend to.” After making sure nobody was in the way, she gently lifted the table, making sure to step on the most stable planks of the flooring to not break through. “I think I was… a hero in that dream. But not really a good one, I always kept making things worse. I still feel a bit depressed from it.” At least it seemed like reality was quickly replacing those memories — remembering reality became easier as the gloom of that dream disappeared.

She heaved the table into the centre of the room. Serim frowned at her in thought, even forgetting to act along for a moment. “So it was a bad dream.”

Making sure the table was properly positioned, Theora let go. “I wouldn’t necessarily say so, especially towards the end. Everyone else in that dream was amazing. It was like I had a big family.” A bit lower, she added, “And I even had a girlfriend.”

Serim arched her brows and blew a whistle. “Oh really? What was she like?”

Theora pulled up her arms into a bit of a self-hug, sliding along her bare shoulders; she couldn’t help but smile at the fading memory. “She made it all worth it. I mean, the others did, too, but I only met them because of her. To be honest, she can be a bit of a brat. But she likes to help people out. Wants to see others happy. She complains a lot, but it’s not serious most of the time? In fact, I only ever see her truly upset when she’s too late to help someone.” Theora saw flashes of memory, with the two pacing through a harbour town in ruins. Her smile waned.

It was just a dream. Did that mean she’d never see her again?

What even was her name? Everything was crumbling away between her fingers like dry ash.

“A brat, huh?” Serim let out a hum, sitting down on the table.

“Yes.” Theora swallowed, trying to hold onto each thought. “She’d… often tease me, and look up at me with sparkles in her eyes.”

“Look up at you? I thought you were into taller girls.”

“I mean, I like tall girls,” Theora said. “But that’s just a preference. Also, she was really strong. She could lift me up easily.”

“To be honest, that all sounds like someone I know. Want me to introduce her?”

Theora shook her head and rolled her eyes a little. She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think I could do relationship stuff in real-life. It sounds difficult. Dream girl must have been very patient with me.” Theora looked around, trying to find a way to change the topic, and then her eyes fell on Serim’s drum set under the stairs. “Wait. You play again? I haven’t seen it set up in a while.”

“I wouldn’t say I ever stopped playing,” Serim said, but they both knew it was a bit of a lie. She probably hadn’t touched it in two or three years.

At that, Mira chimed in, saying, “Gonna play for us?” — to which Serim turned around with raised eyebrows, as if accepting the challenge.

Theora took this as her opportunity to recharge her social battery, and found herself settled deep into a large couch shortly after.

Clee eventually decided to sit next to her.

“My dad still talks about you, by the way,” she remarked.

Theora pulled up her legs, and realised she’d forgotten to shave them. She rarely, if ever, showed off skin, so the idea of shaving for the bunny costume hadn’t even occurred to her.

It was fine. Just another thing to try not to think about.

“For your help with the shop back when the flood hit,” she added to grab Theora’s attention back, who managed a shy nod in response. “Also, I think Pris has a crush on you.”

It was at that moment that Theora’s phone started blaring. Heads turned from the loud siren sound.

Serim, who was just about to start playing, threw up her drumsticks. “You’re on call today?”

“Sorry,” Theora let out, already on her way to the door.

She fetched her helmet from the wardrobe and went out into the cold. Her phone gave a location on the other side of town. She still wanted to be there as soon as possible. No details available yet.

Most of the time, these calls were innocuous. The chances of this actually being something were relatively low; but it could happen, and in these situations, every second counted. And so, Theora tried her best to recall the layout of the town she’d spent her entire life living in. She quickly gave up and activated her navigation app, and was on her way within a few seconds.

A few streets in, Theora could vaguely recall the place she was being led to. It was on the edge of the industrial side of town, with a few large storage halls and a small facility to construct medical equipment. Maybe it had caught fire? Or perhaps there had been an accident with machinery.

The app led her around two traffic hotspots in the town centre, and she used the siren on her motorcycle to make it through the largest crossing without waiting for a green light.

That’s when she noticed the rainfall. It started slow, but the drops were thrumming heavier against her skin over time; and that’s when she realised with suppressed horror that she was driving through town in her bunny suit after all.

When Theora had made it about two thirds of the way, she got notice that she was being called to an animal rescue.

The dispatchers had long-since realised that Theora was, occasionally, able to perform miracles, so long as nobody was watching.

This meant she would likely be there alone.

Something was off at the scene. Theora couldn’t tell what it was.

She’d been called to an abandoned building with a long-since collapsed roof, with a massive oak growing into it from the side. On the grassy field surrounding the building was an old stone well with a dark, organic-seeming lump attached to it, covered from the rain by foliage.

“Oh, there you are!” someone let out, probably recognising Theora by the emergency lights rather than her outfit. It was a young girl in a green shirt. She had her phone out; the dispatcher was perhaps still on. “I heard noises coming from the well, I think there is a hurt animal inside. But the bees are angry, so I couldn’t look.”

When Theora glanced over her arms, there appeared to be a few stings on her skin.

“I’ll take a look.”

It was raining stronger by now, and there were no sounds coming from the well, so Theora was a little scared about what she might find.

It was then that Theora noticed what felt off. Her red crystal bracelet was glowing. Each step made it gleam more intensely. It had never done that before. She wasn’t even aware it could do that.

The bees were still humming about, having nested along the side of the well, but noticeably, didn’t seem aggressive. Soon after, the faint scent of smoke was carried over by the wind, with a little note of biting sulphur. Perhaps that had calmed them down? Bees showed restraints during fires.

Finally, Theora peeked down the side of the well; it was dark, but the bottom was faintly illuminated by a red light, and two glowing amber eyes looked up. Theora blinked, and turned back to look at the girl who had called her.

“There is someone inside.”

“Oh, yea,” the girl said, shaking her head in mild annoyance. “She showed up right before you, forgot to mention. Said she was going to calm it down? I think she slipped and fell.”

The girl seemed unimpressed. How could she possibly have ‘forgotten’ to mention that?

Either way, this was a person-rescue mission now. Theora looked back down and found the woman smiling as she held onto what appeared to be a large skunk, hugging it over her shoulder. “Well, well, well!” she shouted up. “Who do we have here? A bunny came to save us? I've been down here for ages!”

Those words pierced Theora’s mind like rods of hot red iron. Still, she managed to ask, “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, just didn’t think the rocks were gonna be that slippery. Luckily missed the skunk, though.” She nudged it, and it nudged back. “Dema, by the way. Who’re you?”

The well was already filled up to Dema’s hips; depending on how saturated the ground in town was, the rainfall might push the water up quickly.

The rocks inside the well were slick with moss. Theora did not have the equipment to get someone out of a well, which meant she might have to call reinforcements after all. However… that would mean her colleagues would see her in a bunny suit.

It was a very weak excuse. Yet, her brain reacted on impulse. Maybe there was something Theora could have done to stop it, but it went by too quickly. A fraction of a second, maybe less. She wanted to help Dema, and she didn’t want to leave her behind.

And so, Theora jumped down the well, sliding her arms and feet over the walls to keep steady, and came to a halt halfway through. There, she switched to a climb, pushing her fingers deep into the crevices to reach the bottom safely.

“Damn,” Dema’s voice echoed up. “Thought you were gonna fall for me.”

Theora’s legs felt numb. Her mind, gone hazy. What was she doing? And why? It was entirely unlike herself to do these things when seen. Because she knew that everything would fall apart. This little reality she’d escaped into would fall apart.

Except, she knew why.

She hopped down into the bottom of the well. The skunk screeched — her arrival surprised the little animal so much that it tried to jump away.

But Dema held it tight. “Wha! Wait, we’re stuck, remember? Gotta get you out first!”

Theora expected disaster to hit right that moment, but after a few strokes, the skunk somehow calmed down. Dema giggled. Their bracelets were burning, standing apart just a step.

Dema tilted her head in askance. “So… You gonna carry us out or something? I kinda expected a rope.”

“I could carry you out,” Theora said, flushed red. “But we might slip, and it could stress out your little companion.”

“So…”

Theora swallowed. “I have a different idea.”

She couldn’t believe she was saying this.

“If you would close your eyes, and let me touch you for a second.” Theora’s voice was laden. “I will get you both out safely, but it might be confusing, or feel weird.”

“Oh! … Sure?” Dema offered a hand. Theora took it.

That scent of smoke and sulphur. The cadence of that raspy voice rang in her head. The horn protruding from unkempt dark hair.

Theora knew why she was doing this — even though she did not understand at all. But there was no mistaking it.

These bright, amber eyes.

“Retain.”

This was the woman of Theora’s dreams.