"You look like a hot mess." The casually cruel words were tossed at me with the reckless abandon only someone like the speaker could dish out.

I looked down at my attire and made a sour expression. I was dressed rather appropriately in denim overalls with a white tee underneath. I suppose the only strange thing about my appearance would be the baby carrier I was wearing. Strapped in was my only friend, Mr. Brutus, the stuffed bear. Unlike the speaker, he was never cruel, and just being in his presence or holding him gave me peace of mind.

"Didn't you read the rules on the wall?" I pointed to the signs I had posted that said, in several languages, that no gods, goddesses, or people bound to said creatures were allowed.

My words were met with a snort, "Never stopped me before." The intruder said.

I had one more rule that I lived by as I reshaped my life. No romance. I read horror, comedy, and comics, but anytime it had romance, I skipped pages. This focus was keeping me stable, and I needed that stability because I had a farming world that needed me.

You see, I have a rude ancestor who happens to be a God almost anyone that meets dislikes. Dislike is putting it lightly. But I was given my own pocket world to make up for something that must not be named. It's based on this really popular farming game that tricks people into adding friends or fake accounts to play. Only I didn't need to do either. I could play by myself for years. Which is precisely what I did.

For nearly two years, to be exact. I started with only a tiny plot of land. I built on it and expanded my territory like a specific game to be unnamed. Every time I harvested, I unlocked points. I could use those points to unlock land animals and even structures. The one thing I didn't need to pay for was seeds.

I rarely left this locket world. To leave it was to invite unwelcome memories and pain. It was far easier to be around these all-too-realistic cows and chickens.

It truly was like a game in how harvesting worked. I had a master control panel that allowed me to do all the above things, and with it, I could move plants, harvest, plant, and arrange my farm animals. I could also harvest said farm animals, but how the harvest was rather strange. One minute, they stood there; the next, they were stacks of meat in a cooler with the bones in a barrel…

That aside, it felt good to distract myself in the dirt. I didn't need the control panel to plant, but it did make it easier to arrange things to look more aesthetically pleasing.

I had a reason for preferring my hands in the dirt. My plant manipulation powers, which I had as Wendy Evans, were still present. It was like a tiny flame hiding in the shadow of my more prominent power as a literary witch.

It wasn't as strong as my time as Wendy. I could only influence plants by directly touching and feeling them the same. By the time I left my time as Wendy, I was insanely powerful and could have influenced plants with a mere thought.

Unfortunately, the past two years have done nothing to grow this power.

My heart's joy popped like a saggy old balloon after I exited this amazing pocket world. The last thing I wanted to find was my aforementioned ancestor casually strewn on my bed, reading my diary.

"You're so boring now. You're like an old man." He was in the form of a young girl and was swinging her legs childishly. You'd never guess she was an ancient daughter of a primordial Goddess.

"What are you doing here, Aphra?" And why was she in her female form again? It wasn't the first time the gender-switching diety had popped in for a visit. I managed to avoid any real conversations by slipping into the locket world. It was time to finally pop off on my ancestor, who seemed intent on showing their face. Mordecai or Aphra went by many names depending on her mood. She was originally a demi-goddess but, due to a curse by her mother, could never recover her true form. That may be why the trickster took on so many different appearances. Gavin, someone who hated my ancestor and thus me, said that Aphra didn't prefer the female form because of the love she lost forever ago. He seems correct because most of the time I saw my ancestor, he was a male form. Whenever he popped in to bother me, however, I noticed that the female version was becoming more of an occurrence each time she visited. I never knew what shape she was going to take.

"I came to check in on my last surviving heir apparent." The little girl's voice said this way too casually for comfort. "You're living like a peasant, though. It's unbecoming of someone from my line."

"You're the one that gave me the world," I said with a snort. I didn't bother debating that I still had family members alive. Like they had done, I long abandoned caring for them as well.

"Yeah, but only cuz John said the dirt would help you heal. You look and smell like a pig." The hag Goddess' little nose wrinkled with disgust. "Who'd have thought you came from my bloodline. You're more like Cael than me."

"Your sister?" I snatched that tidbit like a hungry dog. It wasn't often that Aphra let loose things for me to know about her siblings or past. It was also better to focus on that than her mentioning my need to heal. I didn't want to think of what I was like before. It was truly shameful.

"Yeah, she thrived in the dirt. Always making concoctions and taking care of the peons." Aphra said as she flipped through the pages of my diary. "The two of you would have gotten along like peas in a pod. Even your diary is boring." Aphra said this with derision.

"Then don't read it," I said. I was too tired to actually care. It was more than just a teen girl's diary but a log of my progress and what I wanted to work on next. I wanted to steadily build my farming world. There was an ocean a ways off, and once I unlocked it, that meant fishing.

Aphra tossed the book to the side and instead fixed her dark eyes on me. Shit, it was better if she was reading the book.

"I have a proposal for you." She said.

"No thanks," I said, hoping my face didn't show how my heart reacted to the word proposal.

"If you don't play along, I'll make up my own rules," Aphra said, singing.

"I don't care," I said, crossing my arms. I learned from the past to avoid making a deal with this Goddess. Also, the less you spend interacting with any deity, the better.

"Choosing the hard way means you won't get any real choice," Aphra said with glinting eyes.

"I don't care. You're going to just do what you want anyway." The pain was on my face, but it was too sharp to erase.

"You're going to die alone in this dusty library. You need to go off and have an adventure. Why else have these wonderful powers." Aphra said as she sat up in my bed. Her abrupt vocal lane change showed her blatantly switching up in an attempt to draw me in this way.

Ha, too bad I'd killed off all my desires. I was in a beautiful, empty middle ground of my healing. I wasn't thinking about what was, and there was no such thing as a future aside from my farming.

"Ew, your destiny change solidified." Aphra made a face as if she smelled poop. "You just became more firm in dying a spinster. You foolish girl."

"I don't mind being foolish," I said. I was pleased to have thwarted the Goddess.

"You should take this offer while it lasts. I'll add in something juicy." Aphra wiggled her fingers in my direction.

"Stop that. You're too pushy." I said as I pushed her fingers away from me. I don't know what I said, but Aphra looked mighty happy with herself.

"Good choice."

I blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You just agreed." Aphra got off my bed and walked over to me.

I fought the desire to be violent to this small-looking girl. "No, I didn't," I said.

"But you did it in a language you don't know. If you push together some of your syllabi, it makes for a very casual sure."

"You have got to be kidding me." Only I didn't get to finish that sentence before my tricky ancestor had sent me off to another world.

I opened my eyes to a body much younger than when I became Wendy. I blinked slowly as I took in my surroundings. I was in the most elaborate bathroom I had ever seen. My hideaway home's bathroom was excellent, but this one was the size of a small house.

So this was my ancestor's idea of what I deserved? Spores of red and amber settled on my forehead and flooded me with memories that didn't belong to me.

My new name is Dolyn Tuffin, one of the fakest names I've ever heard of. If the name wasn't bad enough, I was the only child of the wealthiest man in the world. The plot got thicker, unfortunately, because I was also a tube baby he put together.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Mordecai, you suck." I said as I walked to a mirror to look at my appearance. The little shit had shown me what he was going to do. The girl I had become was the same form he had taken in my room.

I look away, disinterested because I had a reason to be wary of the world he dropped me into. This was the world I knew far too well because I'd become addicted to the book I'm now stuck in.

The book series was named Brains. Like the title suggested, it was a simple horror zombie slasher book. There wasn't a lick of romance because the main character, who the Gods favored in this world, didn't give a damn about sex or romance. He only enjoyed power. He started off as an average Joe, but when the zombie outbreak started, he found a way to crave his way to power with his super yadda.

The plot is generic, and the story is simple. I needed nothing else, but now I was stuck in a world that was going to become infested with zombies.

I may only be six, but I felt like I had aged by thirty years at this realization. I had no idea if I had time to kick my butt into gear. The book wasn't super specific on important dates. It thought it was clever and edgy to start the new world order with the outbreak.

Ha! As if other zombie books haven't done something similar.

A slew of cuss words in several languages ripped from my mouth as I vented my frustration. I didn't want to be a literal child fighting off zombies, and I didn't want to die with a stupid name like Dolyn Tuffin.

"Such fury." An amused voice drew me out of my thoughts, and I spotted an all too familiar ancestor looking like he needed a bruise on his lip. Mordecai was back in his go-to masculine form, with unkempt brown curls and a shimmery purple three-piece.

"And such boldness!" Mordecai said with a chuckle. "You're openly hostile to me, someone who could rip you apart with a mere thought."

"Send me back," I said with a glare.

"I can't do that. There's a time limit or something in place."

"Or something?" I said with a scornful sigh. "At least make up a more plausible lie."

"It's true or something," Mordecai said with a chuckle. "It will wear off when the story's events start, possibly."

"So, when the zombie outbreak happen?" Shit, that gave me no clear idea when.

"Uh-huh," Mordecai said as he casually picked his nose. "I think it's fifteen years or so, but don't quote me on that. This is my first time hijacking a world in this way."

I ignored the latter part of his words and latched on to the first bit. "Fifteen years, then I can go back?"

"Maybe?" Mordecai said with an exaggerated extension of the damn word. "What if you end up wanting to stay here? Maybe you fall in love with this world and learn to relax a little?"

"Ha, fat chance," I said with a narrow glare.

"I'll hold you to those words," Mordecai said with a strangely blank expression. "Even if you beg me one day, I'll remind you of this moment." Mirth danced in his deep eyes, but his face was an expressionless mask.

Something about this sight unnerved me, so I grabbed the first thing I could to change the subject, "You can't keep me here. I'll just leave. I learned how to thanks to all the trouble last time." There was no way I could ever admit out loud that part of it was due to my desire to find the Unruly Forest again...

"That's not possible," Mordecai said with a smirk. "I've improved where your adust brother failed."

I could feel my hope to escape shrivel up in the pit of my stomach. So I said, "How did you even manage this?"

"I had my minion take Gus' spell from last time and make some tweaks to it. You'll like what I've done. I mean what it has done but not in my stead. It chose to do this of its own free will."

"Why are you being so vague?" I finally groaned as I could feel a headache forming between my brows.

"I kinda have to be. I'm not supposed to interfere with your fate, remember? So I left a bunch of loopholes and other things to keep my hands clean."

I gestured to the room at large. "This isn't keeping your hands clean," I said.

Mordecai shrugged and flicked a booger at me. I dodged it.

"Why am I a six-year-old fucking girl!?" I said with a fierce glare.

"Enjoy this world and the setting I picked for you. No mountain orphan peasant background for one of mine." Mordecai said with a shit-eating grin, then vanished.

All of my rage disappeared with him, and so did my hope. I was alone again, and I had to rebuild all over. Again.

I didn't even have Mr. Brutus with me. An annoying tightening of my throat cut off my breath, and I grabbed my neck to ease the pain. I massaged it desperately, trying to disperse this tight feeling.

I gasped when they touched something warm and metal as my fingers moved. My pocket world had come with me. Its silvery white metal was as untarnished as before. I looked down at my right hand, and my spacial ring and burn was also there.

Hot tears ran down my cheek, and I stubbornly wiped my cheeks free. I can do this. And I can do it all over again without remembering his name. Also, since Mordecai had clearly broken so many rules, he likely can't do anything else for a while.

I turned to exit the bathroom, but before I could reach for the handle, an all too familiar flaming spore popped into being in front of me.

It turned out to be a box with Mr. Brutus in it. Unabashed joy filled me to the brim as I grabbed the bear and squeezed him to my chest.

No matter what, I can do this.

I'd become like the main hero of this story. I'd keep my eye on the goal and avoid sticky connections.

It would have been nice if things had gone on that smoothly, but I realized that the longer I was in this world, the more details I forgot about the story. The first time I realized this was literally walking out of that initial gung-ho moment I just had.

I couldn't remember the hero's name.

No doubt this was something Mordecai set into place, which meant he was playing matchmaker or just trying to make it entertaining for himself.

The second thing was, as I looked at my 'father,' I realized I didn't know him very well.

Did his character exist before Mordecai's interference, or was he crafted by another spell Mordecai stole from Gus?

My father wasn't a tall or imposing man. You'd think the richest man in this world would have some type of flair. It was strangely scary how normal he looked. I had inherited my ginger hair from him. But his light cyan eyes were nothing like mine. I had green eyes.

"Are you ready to go, Dolyn?" My father said in a clear, even voice. It was deep but not too deep. Everything about him screamed average, which is why it should be terrifying that he was so rich and powerful! His eyes showed gentle warmth, and I realized he was staring at my best friend, Mr. Brutus.

I nodded in response, clutching Mr. Brutus to my chest. Even with 'Dolyn's' memories, I had no idea how to navigate my relationship with this man. All I got from looking at him and then the memories was distance. He was usually working long hours. He made time for me but wasn't a parent who stayed home getting paint on his hands.

So that was why both of us were surprised when he scooped me up. He blinked and seemed unsure how to proceed. I wiggled until I could get comfortable perched on his slim waist. He had gathered himself by this point and then strode down the hallway. I was so busy staring at him up close that I didn't get a chance to stare at the elaborately decorated hallway.

This mansion was top-notch!

"We'll be at the hotel later, but you have the run of it. You will also have a new nanny, so don't worry about the last one."

Oh yeah. Dolyn had powers. She had the power of premonition. It was something that I had had as Wendy as well. Only Dolyn's premonition was through touch and random comings on the wind. You'd think a man who had such a child would be wary of touching his daughter, but on the contrary, he was strangely affectionate.

The older cynic in me could only think that if his daughter could tell the future and had an excellent favoring of him, she could also warn him of danger. Something that both of us needed because we often had bodydoubles and bodyguards.

"Dolyn, I expect you to finish your homework every day, but other than that, your schedule is up to you while we stay there."

I gave him an incredulous look. He's talking to me as if I were old enough to understand these things. I'm six! I can't be expected to make daily choices!

"Before we leave, it's time for your daily assessment." My father's voice was strangely comforting as he held me close. I couldn't resist the desire to sniff him. I was used to Grandpa Evans' scent of medicine, Wyatt's smell of sweaty dirt, and even Gus' aroma of ink and coffee. Mordecai smelled like smoky herbs I couldn't identify, and it was pleasant despite being attached to him.

Of course, one more couldn't be named whose scent I couldn't bear to recall. That scent was more familiar to me than my own. Just thinking of it made my chest tighten in pain.

My new father smelled of clean notes laced with cedar and frankincense. Being near the woody earth notes and crisp freshness of his clothing was relaxing.

I was so focused on this that I didn't note that we had exited the long hallway and into a room.

I say room lightly because what we walked into might as well have been a closet's closet compared to everything else I've seen. I stared disapprovingly at the room. It was dark, cramped, and weird.

A table was set up in the middle of the room, and for a moment, I thought of the table Mordecai had set up to test me. Instead of old relics, there were envelopes on the table.

There were also two baskets, one at each end of the table.

I knew what this room was, thanks to Dolyn's memories. This was an everyday occurrence because my father rightfully assumed that power was like any muscle in the body. Muscles need to be worked and honed to improve, and then they take less effort to use.

All I needed to do was touch each envelope and put them in one basket or another with the salad tongs. Of course, the caveat is that I had to touch each envelope and get a feeling or vision from them.

My father set me down. I handed him Mr. Brutus with grave concentration and then eyed the table curiously. I had the memories to draw upon but none of the hands-on experience. Like my first actions as Wendy, who knew if my muscle memory would work or slip from me. Could I even start a fire in a wood stove now? It had been forever and a different life since I had.

As Wendy, I couldn't access the premonition power very well. I tried to hide my trepidation as my fingers grasped the first coarse thick pale envelope. Something was in it, but I couldn't ascertain what from the slight bulge.

What wasn't impossible to confuse was the nausea that rolled my stomach and made my fingers tremble. I dropped the envelope, but the sticky gross feeling I gained from it clung to my skin like a second fresh layer of flesh. I rubbed at my hands as if these invasive feelings could be taken off. It helped as I imagined it disappearing.

I inhaled sharply and used the tongs to lift the offending envelope into the basket for disposal. I reached for the next, and a bubble of warmth came over my heart. I became full of comfort and support from it. I sighed, relieved at the comforting fate of whatever was in this envelope. I set this envelope aside and snatched the next one, paying quickly for my confidence.

This one was worse than the first. I could feel the shadow of death coming off it, and my fingers turned white as I shook. I deposited this one, without the tongs, by throwing it into the empty basket. My father handed me a cup of warm water, and the chilly burn settling over my skin was slowly dispensed.

The next one ended up being the best in the end. When my fingers were mere inches away, I was filled with warmth unlike any other.

Showing no mercy, I repeated this process until I was left with eleven good envelopes.

I turned to see my father watching me intently with no emotion on his face. I felt like an experiment as he beckoned me to take another knock at the leftovers.

I wiggled my fingers as I turned back to the table. It was time to narrow down to find the best of whatever the heck he was having me look into.

It took some narrowing down, but eventually, I found the best seven of the good vibes. Finding the last one was a close tie, but I managed it.

When I turned to look at my father this time, I had to wipe sweat off my brow. Dolyn's precognition capabilities were far more significant than mine. I only had dreams to warn me of vague future danger. She could trigger feelings off a touch.

"Good job, Dolyn." My father's voice was as calm and neutral as before. At least an hour had passed, but he spent it patiently watching me.

"What are these ones for?" I finally asked when I smoothed my nerves.

"The future." He said rather vaguely. He scooped me up into his arms again to take me away.

That vague half-sentence echoed in my head endlessly because it wouldn't be for almost a year before I learned what he meant.