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James and Mary
Mary's eyelids drooped with exhaustion, her shoulders sagged as she leaned over the vibrant orange and yellow bouquet she had been working on. "My hands hurt," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her lower back throbbed with pain, causing her to frequently shift her position in a fruitless attempt to find relief.
James paused from arranging the small vase of flowers and looked up at his friend. He studied her intently, taking note of the furrowed lines of concentration etched on her face and the slight trembling of her fingers as she worked. "Are you almost done?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice, his eyes filled with concern as he gazed at her.
As she spoke, the woman’s eyes remained fixed on the bouquet before her. "I have a few more flowers to add, and then I'll wrap it up," her voice rang out in the quiet room. She pushed her brown, curly hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly from the strain of the task. James let out a whine of frustration. "I have like three more centerpieces to do. Why is it so hard to get flowers in a small vase to sit right?"
Mary looked sidelong at her friend before picking up the copper iron color wrap. Her fingers moved with practiced ease as she began to wrap the fabric around the delicate stems of the flowers. "I can't believe someone spent almost seven thousand dollars on flowers alone for their wedding," the woman exclaimed, shaking her head. "My flowers will cost at most five hundred." Mary carefully inserted the pins into the wrap, then handed the finished bouquet to James.
As he continued to admire the bouquet, he noticed something was wrong. His eyes widened in horror as he noticed that the petals on the bouquet were starting to wilt and turn brown. The beautiful colors that had once filled the bouquet were fading, and the sweet fragrance that had filled the air was replaced by a putrid smell of decay. He watched in dismay as the once-beautiful bouquet began to wither away and rot before his very eyes. The flowers that had once been so vibrant and full of life were now lifeless and dull.
James panicked and quickly flung the bouquet away, taking a few steps back to distance himself. The bouquet landed on the ground with a sickening thud, its once-vibrant colors now a twisted mass of rot and decay. Flies buzzed around it, and the stench was overpowering. His voice was strained as he wondered aloud, "How could this happen?" His eyes widened behind his glasses as he stared at the bouquet. His face paled, his heart racing and thumping loud enough that he swore Mary could hear it.
"Maybe the flowers weren't fresh..." Mary trailed off, but as she looked at the dead plant, she was shocked to see it growing broader and taller. The blackness of the stems withered off, and the flowers seemed to be back as if they had suddenly hit a regrowth period. The bouquet twisted and turned until an oval-shaped black hole appeared, with orange and yellow flowers surrounding the outer rim. Mary and James looked at each other, their eyes wider than before, hearts trying to escape their chests.
"You're seeing this too, right?" James spoke, his voice weak and trembling. Their eyes were locked on what was before them. The flowers decaying could have been explained, but not this. Something in the fabric or the wire could cause that. Not the flowers turning and twisting into something. Magical. Nobody could have heard of a black hole forming and causing flowers to rot away before reappearing with the same flowers all around its border.
The ground beneath their feet began to shake violently, causing the pair’s knees to buckle and fall under them. The black hole's pull became more vigorous, and the force was so strong that they could not escape its grasp. They tried to run, but their feet wouldn't move, as if rooted to the spot. The flowers around the hole began to levitate, and the petals started swirling around the black hole, creating a vortex pulling everything towards it. The air around them was thick and heavy, and they could feel the force of the pull tugging at their clothes and hair. They were completely powerless against it as they got sucked in.
AFTER Their vision returned, Mary and James looked around and found themselves in a forest to the east, shrouded in shadows. The trees were impossibly tall, with thick green leaves blocking the sun. The sky was a brilliant blue, without a single cloud in sight. The field they were standing in was a vibrant green, so bright it almost hurt their eyes to look at it. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly-cut grass. They were both completely disoriented and had no idea how they had gotten there. The forest was eerily quiet except for the sound of a nearby stream.
Mary and James took a deep breath, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization, but there was nothing. No roads, no buildings, no people. Just endless fields and forests stretched as far as the eye could see. They felt lost and confused, wondering how they had ended up in such a strange place. As they gazed at the sky, they saw the words "Welcome to the Game" floating in golden letters. It was as if the sky was alive, and the words were a message directed at them. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.
Lily
Lily was sitting at her desk, composing an email for her client. She believed her client was innocent, but the pMarycutors had proposed a deal. Her client, Mrs. Brighton, was facing possession charges with intent to distribute, with overwhelming evidence against her. The police had found a three-gallon zip-lock bag containing at least six hundred pills. Mrs. Brighton had been offered no jail time but would be sentenced to three months in a rehab center. Lily knew that given the severity of the charges, this was a reasonable plea, and it was the best option to avoid prison time for her client. She took a deep breath and clicked the send button, hoping Mrs. Brighton would accept the deal.
Dear Mrs. Brighton,
I hope this email finds you doing well. This is to provide you with an update on your case. As discussed during our last meeting, the prosecutor presented a deal allowing you to avoid jail time by spending three months in rehab. After reviewing your options, I agree that this is the best course of action, given the evidence against you. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.
Best regards,
Lily Evans
Lily was sitting on an increasingly unstable chair as if it could give way. Despite this, she chose to ignore it. She assumed the chair was unstable due to her posture and tried to adjust herself accordingly.
Until she was yanked backward, her chair giving way beneath her, she landed on the hard floor with a loud thud, her head slamming against the ground. The pain was excruciating, and she couldn't help but raise a shaky hand to her head, squeezing her eyes shut. The shock of the fall was overwhelming. Her vision blackened out, and her body felt like it was being pulled.
Lily slowly regained consciousness and found herself in a spacious kitchen filled with many unfamiliar sights and smells. The room was bustling with activity, and her eyes were immediately drawn to a large pot on the stove, its contents bubbling and steaming with great intensity. She could see the sweat glistening on the other chefs' foreheads as they worked tirelessly, stirring another pot with a large wooden spoon. The heat emanating from the stove was so intense that Lily felt like she was in a sauna, her skin slick with sweat.
Lily was trying to make sense of her surroundings when a man suddenly appeared before her, waving his arms frantically. "Sorry, Lily!" he exclaimed, his face etched with stress. "But the Queen has changed her mind about the roasted turkey. She wants a roasted pig now!"
Lily took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She turned to look into the soup she noticed earlier, hoping to find some answers to this strange situation. As she peered into the pot, her eyes widened. The words 'Welcome to the Game' were visible, written in bold, golden letters. She tried to shake her head, thinking that maybe it was just a trick of the light, but the words remained, taunting her.
Regulus, Evan, Barty
Evan trudged into his shared apartment, his shoulders slumped and his eyes burning with unshed tears. It had been the worst day of his life, and he was completely drained. His mouth opened in another yawn, his body begging for some much-needed rest.
"How was your night, sweetheart?" Barty asked Evan, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at him. "I'm so stupidly tired right now. I can die," Evan replied. Barty laughed and ruffled Evan's hair. Regulus rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, forcing his way between the couple. "Move," he muttered, making his way over to the leather couch in the middle of the living room, with a matching chair to the left of it.
"Don't be upset now," Barty breathed out as Evan made his way towards the kitchen, the light burning Regulus's tired eyes that were used to the dark. "Shut up, Barty," Regulus replied, picking up the remote off the coffee table. "How was your day?" Barty asked softly as he turned towards Regulus on the couch.
Evan scoffed at his boyfriend as he walked into the room, a small smile on his lips. "It was okay," Regulus said, his eyes lingering on Evan. "Glad to hear that," Evan told Regulus, handing him a bottle and sitting between the pair in his usual seat. "Heard there was a bar fight on the second floor?" Evan muttered, laying his head on Barty's shoulder.
"Yeah, some guy decided it would be funny to hit on Classire while her boyfriend was there," the bouncer said, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and pulling him closer to his body. "Nobody got hurt?" Regulus asked, glancing at the pair from the corner of his eye as he took a sip of the beer in his hand, the cold liquid feeling nice as it slid down his throat.
Barty nodded, earning an eye roll from Evan. "Always making sure everyone is always safe, huh?" he teased. "No. It'll be funny if someone gets hurt," Regulus snapped back, causing Evan to laugh and Barty to smile.
Barty groaned, laying his head back on the couch. "I'm getting a headache," he muttered. The other two nodded, agreeing as their heads started to pound, their vision seeming to fade to black simultaneously. "Do you smell that?" Evan asked softly, his eyelids drooping, and he felt he was fighting to keep them open.
The smell was pungent and acrid, like rotten eggs mixed with burning rubber. It was so strong that it made their eyes water, and they could feel it burning their nostrils.
Regulus looked around the room, black spots cast in his vision. His friends’ faces were pale, their lips turning purple, his hands trembling as they struggled to breathe. He tried to force himself to stay awake but could feel himself slipping away. The smell was overpowering, and he felt like he would be sick. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave out from under him, and he fell back onto the couch.
Regulus felt a surge of energy as the man standing before the knights shouted, "Knights! Are you ready to fight for your king!" The man's voice echoed through the open field, and Regulus could hear the sound of the people dressed in silver armor raising their swords high, yelling out in excitement. Regulus's heart began to race, and he could feel the blood pumping through his veins as he stood at attention beside his friend Evan, who was by his side. He tried to take a deep breath, but the smell of burning metal and wood wafted, making breathing difficult.
Remus
In Remus's hands was a rumpled piece of paper that held the first draft of his published novel. His heart was pounding as he thought of what he had accomplished. "Creating this novel was a journey, but I'm proud to say that I stayed true to the map I had drawn," he said, his voice filled with passion.
"It's so easy for writers to lose their way while creating their works," he continued, "which is why they need to focus on their maps. Reading their work fully and carefully examining the map is essential to ensuring that the story stays consistent and has no plot holes." Remus said, "It's a lot of hard work, but creating a cohesive and well-crafted story is essential."
Remus felt his head swimming as a wave of dizziness washed over him, blurting his vision. He staggered, feeling like something was pulling at his clothes, dragging him away from his classroom. He fought against the force, but it was too strong, yanking him away from the conversation. His heart was pounding, he struggled to maintain his balance and consciousness, and his face paled as he struggled to whisper a word.
Remus's eyes widened at the sight before him as he lifted his gaze. A giant black hole, its edges adorned with beautiful crimson flowers that seemed to glow in the darkness. But the void surrounding it was a deep, inky blackness that stretched on and on, an infinite vastness that seemed to stare at him with its empty eyes.
Remus felt a powerful force pulling at his legs, dragging him toward the void. He scrambled to resist, but it was like being caught in the grip of a runaway train. The feeling was disorienting, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt himself being swallowed by the black hole. A scream stuck deep in his throat.
Remus slowly clawed his way back to consciousness, his head feeling like it had been wrung through a wringer. The dull, persistent ache in his skull distracted him as he blinked away at the haze, trying to make sense of the world around him. As his vision gradually cleared, his eyes settled on the golden words the man beside him had been staring at. The words seemed to float before him, their vibrant color and intricate pattern catching his attention. The man's face was a mask of pure terror, his eyes wide open and his mouth gaping as if he had just seen something unimaginable. The image was haunting, and for a moment, Remus felt a chill run down his spine, wondering what in the world had happened to this man. He tried to speak, to ask if he was okay, but his voice was weak, his mouth dry, and his throat tight.
Peter
He missed these nights when she worked the night shift at the hospital. But it was worth it since now; they could curl up together, enjoying the warmth of the hot mac and cheese he had made while watching a movie. The soft glow of the candles on the table added to the ambiance, casting a warm, flickering light over everything. The rain tapping on the windowpane created a soothing background noise, and Peter felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over him.
He looked over at Amelia, who was snuggled up beside him, her eyes fixed on the screen. He felt a surge of love and gratitude for this woman who had stuck by his side through thick and thin and brought so much joy and happiness into his life. He felt happy and satisfied as he took another bite of the mac and cheese, knowing he couldn't ask for anything else. He would rather have this simple, cozy life with Amelia than all the riches in the world.
The black hole came out of nowhere, forming quickly and forcing Peter into it before he could even process what was truly happening. He felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of panic and terror as he was sucked into the darkness, his body contorting and twisting in impossible ways. The force of the black hole was so intense that it felt like his face was melting off, the skin peeling away in layers as he screamed in agony. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The pain vanished, replaced by a strange, weightless sensation as he floated in the empty void. Peter was disoriented and confused, his mind struggling to understand what had happened. He looked around, but there was nothing to see, only darkness stretching out in all directions.
Peter inhaled deeply. His eyes pinched shut as he attempted to soothe the rapid pounding of his heart. He told himself it was just a bad dream, but the more he thought about it, the more confident he became that something was wrong. Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes and scanned the room around him.
He found himself in a strange, unfamiliar place, with no sign of the cozy living room where he had just been moments before. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings, his heart racing faster each minute.
The walls around him were made of smooth material. The throne was adorned with plush, vibrant red cushions framed by intricate golden trim that sparkled in the light. The sparkling jewels adorned the throne glinted and shimmered with every movement, casting a dazzling array of colors across the room. As Peter approached, he marveled at the intricate carvings on the throne's wooden frame, each curve and line so detailed that it looked like a work of art. The craftsmanship was remarkable, with every inch of the throne exuding a sense of grandeur and majesty.
Peter stood in awe as he gazed around the palace, taking in the sights and sounds around him. The walls and floors were made of gleaming white marble, so polished that they shone like mirrors. The floors were covered in soft, plush red carpets that felt like silk under his feet. The air was filled with the sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine, and the gentle melody in the background added to the sense of peace and tranquility that filled the room.
As Peter looked around, he saw that he was surrounded by a group of people, all dressed in the finest silk robes and adorned with glittering jewels. They all looked at him with awe and reverence, as if he were someone important, someone special. Their faces were filled with admiration and respect, and Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and wonder at the attention he was receiving.
Peter looked down at his clothes and was struck by a regal robe made of the finest silk and embroidered with gold thread. The fabric felt soft and luxurious against his skin; he could tell it was worth a fortune. As he looked closer, he saw that the intricate embroidery formed elaborate patterns and designs, each one more beautiful than the last.
But that was not all. As he moved his hand to his head, he realized that he was wearing a crown - a real, honest-to-goodness crown - on his head. The weight of the metal pressed down on his skull, a constant reminder of the importance of his position. He looked around again, taking in the opulence and grandeur of his surroundings. It was all so surreal, like something out of a dream.
Peter's mind felt foggy as he struggled to absorb all the new information. His dark brown eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of the strange surroundings. Finally, his gaze fell to his throne again, and he saw the golden words on it shining back at him, the letters thick and bold.
Peter felt a sense of unease wash over him as he looked down at the plate. The letters seemed to dance before his eyes, almost like they were alive. He couldn't make sense of their meaning, and the more he stared at them, the more confused he became. He wondered if he was dreaming or if this was some elaborate prank. But the weight of the crown on his head and the luxurious robe on his back reminded him that this was all too real.
Peter took a deep breath in, trying to calm his racing heart. He closed his eyes again, hoping that everything would make sense when he opened them. But as soon as he did, his heart rate picked up again, and he felt panic set in his chest. The alarms in his mind were blaring now, warning him that something was seriously wrong.
Without even realizing it, his hands had become fists, and he could feel his nails digging into his palms. He unclenched them momentarily, only to see they had left moon-shaped indents on his palms. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, and the more he tried to make sense of it, the more his mind seemed to spin out of control. He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it was useless.
Dorcas and Marlene
When Dorcas met Marlene a year ago, she knew she was hopelessly in love. Marlene's beauty shone through everything she did, and Dorcas couldn't help but feel drawn to her. She loved how Marlene's eyes sparkled when she laughed, and her hair fell in soft waves around her face. She loved Marlene's voice, which was like music to her ears. She loved the way Marlene moved, with captivating grace and fluidity.
Dorcas's heart would race whenever she saw Marlene, and she couldn't help but feel a longing whenever they were apart. She would spend hours thinking about Marlene, imagining what it would be like to be with her. She loved everything about her, from how she dressed to how she smelled. She knew she was in love and that she could do nothing to change that.
When Marlene suggested they pretend to be married, Dorcas's heart leaped with elation. At the prospect of playing out her deepest desires, her heart skipped a beat, and the excitement flooded her mind and body. The thought of pretending to be Marlene's lawfully wedded wife fueled Dorcas's heart with unbridled joy.
Dorcas's mind raced with thoughts and emotions. Was Marlene flirting with her, or was this just a fun game for her? Did Marlene know how Dorcas felt about her, or was she oblivious? She looked at Marlene, taking in every detail of her face and body. She loved how she looked in the soft light of the winery, with her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She loved the way Marlene's eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement and the way she moved with grace and confidence. That was captivating.
Dorcas knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and was determined to make the most of it. She smiled at Marlene, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment. She was in love, and even if it were just for a moment, she would enjoy every second of it.
Dorcas couldn't take her eyes off Marlene as she watched her take another sip of wine. She was mesmerized by the way Marlene's blonde hair cascaded in soft curls around her face, framing her features in a way that made Dorcas's heartbeat. She felt a longing wash over her as she imagined what it would be like to be with Marlene.
In her mind, Dorcas was lost in a fantasy where they weren't faking their marriage but were together as a couple. She imagined waking up next to Marlene every morning, holding her close and feeling her warmth. She imagined kissing Marlene's soft lips and running her hands through her hair. She imagined going on adventures together, exploring the world, and making memories that would last a lifetime.
Marlene's voice broke Dorcas's train of thought, bringing her back to reality. She looked up at her friend, who was laughing and trying to get her attention. Dorcas's heart skipped a beat as she regained Marlene's beauty. Marlene's laughter rang like music, and Dorcas couldn't help but smile at the sound. She was lost in the moment, lost in the beauty of the woman in front of her.
But then she noticed Marlene gesturing at the spilled wine on the floor.
"Dorcas? You alright?" she asked, concern etched on her face. Dorcas nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as she nodded.
Dorcas let out a small groan under her breath as she and Marlene, both Mary from their seats, grabbed napkins from the table to try and clean up the mess. The bottle of wine had spilled all over the floor, leaving a dark stain that seemed to spread with each passing second. Dorcas felt a sense of frustration wash over her as she struggled to get the liquid off the floor.
As Dorcas's gaze shifted downward, her heart skipped a beat. The stain on the floor had become more prominent since they started cleaning it up. Despite Marlene's efforts, the stain's grip grew stronger. The two friends used napkins to sop up the wine, but their efforts appeared useless. Dorcas's annoyance transformed into despair as she realized the mess she had created.
A quiet "sorry" tumbled from her lips. Dorcas turned to face Marlene, hoping to find some support from her best friend. But Marlene's eyes were darting across the floor, a look of horror spreading across her face. Dorcas's heart sank as she followed Marlene's gaze and saw the once-red wine turn into a black oval with brilliant flowers. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she realized the once-harmless stain had become an unidentifiable entity, its edges radiating with ominous power.
Dorcas' vision cleared to reveal Marlene knelt before the court, her blonde hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. The moment's weight seemed to hang heavy in the air as if the fate of the entire kingdom rested on Marlene's answer.
"Princess Marlene of Bynlora, do you swear you will always defend the Kingdom of Bynlora from its enemies, including those inside the castle walls?" he asked, stern and unyielding. "Will you always protect Bynlora citizens with your life? Do you swear to do everything you can to make Bynlora the best place it can be?"
Marlene's face was solemn as she listened to the court official's words. She knew that the crown's weight was a heavy burden, but she also knew it was her duty to protect her people and kingdom. She wasn’t sure why she felt like it, but something was pushing and shoving her to say yes, like a pull that was far too great for her to resist.
She looked up at the judge with steely determination in her eyes. "I do," she said, her voice ringing out clearly in the silent room. "I swear to defend Bynlora with my life, to protect its citizens, and to do everything in my power to make it the best place it can be."
Marlene could feel the weight of the responsibility that had just been placed upon her shoulders. Her chest felt tight as she stared at the intricate patterns on the floor tiles, her mind racing with everything she needed to do to fulfill her duties as a princess.
As she stood there, lost in thought, she suddenly heard a mocking voice in her head. "Welcome to the game," it sneered, making her heart skip a beat. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves ahead.
Marlene felt the crown's weight as it was placed upon her head, a heavy, golden burden that pressed down upon her skull like a physical weight. She could feel the eyes of the court upon her, watching as she took on the mantle of responsibility that came with the title of Princess of Bynlora.
Despite the weight of the crown and the pressure of the moment, she refused to let it defeat her.
She felt a wave of anxiety wash over her, and her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to steady herself.As she turned around, she saw the familiar face of her best friend, Dorcas, standing before her. The sight of Dorcas's kind and reassuring smile was like a balm to her troubled soul, and for a moment, she forgot all about the crown's weight on her head.