It started raining again, the very moment she arrived back at the scene of the crime. She knew that the orange raincoat she kept in her trunk had holes in it, most of which she’d collected like souvenirs from different investigations and long searches in the woods. Somehow it did not bother her as long as the rain didn’t hit her head all the time.

The red police tape was still there, now joined by an underlining of a glowing blue one. The symbols of dragons and whirlwinds flashed before her eyes as she pretended she did not see them. Magic, she insisted, had no place on her crime scene.

The chalk outline still marked the spot where the Marus had fallen, and a small white tent covered it from above like a thin piece of paper trying to cover up the spilling of ink. In response to the deep feeling of regret for not catching the killer the first time around, she shoved her hands into her pocket and continued with her head down.

The deeper she went into the park the less aware she became that there was a world outside its borders. It wasn’t just the size of the park that had such a peculiar effect on people, but rather the idea behind its creation. Among the endless speculations on who designed it, some people claimed it was intentionally built like a maze.

Even the birds fell silent for a while.

She followed what she believed was the right way out. The lampposts that were meant to guide her way, faded in strength and occasionally flickered as she passed them by. The trees swayed as the wind caught in their branches from above, instilling an eerie feeling that she had entered a place she’d never be able to leave.

She did not want that paranoid idea to get to her, as she’d be admitting to herself that she’d become afraid of the things born out of magic.

“Just keep on walking,” she whispered tightening her raincoat. Putting one foot in front of the other, she marched on with confidence.

“You can’t run away,” said a voice from somewhere behind her ears. It did not feel like they were far apart, but rather that the person was just there beside her.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Myra froze, and her lip began to tremble the way it hadn’t done since she was a child guilty of breaking a plate. She clenched her fists and turned abruptly, ready to pull her weapon on whoever was behind her. As the light of the nearest lamppost died out, she was left in a dark spot to await her judgment.

“Who’s there?” she yelled, unzipping the raincoat in preparation. “Show yourself.”

“I cannot.” the voice returned, again, from somewhere she could not see. “It is far too early for that.”

She listened but she could not discern if the voice was even real. It had an unappealing tone to it like the person speaking wasn’t entirely a person.

“Who are you?” Myra threatened, now clenching the gun with both hands. There was nothing to aim for, just the empty darkness and the swaying trees.

“Patience, little one. Your time will come.” The voice thinned out and disappeared, leaving only a bitter taste in her mouth.

With the gun still in her hands, she kept searching, round and around, for the smallest trace of where it came from, but all her efforts were in vain.

There was only one choice left for her, and she kept going.

Slowly, the wind and the rain became stronger, making it that much harder to find the right way out. Small trails diverged on all sides, and none of them could promise what she sought to find. Whether she wanted it or not, she got to fully understand what the victim was feeling.

“Phone,” she said to herself, remembering she had something the victim did not possess either time. But when she reached for it she realized the holes in the raincoat had claimed it as their victim, and all her efforts to bring it back to life turned futile.

“Shit,” she exclaimed and did her best not to throw it to the ground in utter rage. “This is ridiculous. I’m in a park for god’s sake.”

The energy returned to her muscles, fueled by spite and thirst for revenge, even though she wasn’t sure who she’d be avenging. It was enough to get her on her way, straight ahead, and without hesitation. When the lights of the tall buildings of the Gollen Residences began to appear among the branches she knew she was close. They blinked in the distance and soon, she stood at the western gate of Arbiger Park.

But she went no further.

Like a hot piercing needle poking behind her eyes, pain flashed in her head. It was so sudden and powerful that all she could do was bend over and crumple to the earth like a scared animal. Warm blood ran out of her nose and formed a small puddle among the stones.

She could not feel anything other than the agony. Before her sight went red with flashing images of someone else’s life, she could have sworn she saw a person standing beside her.