On the flight back I had little more in my head than questions. Even security didn't scare me despite having far bigger and deadlier weapons than the ones in the UK. I decided I'd do some research on it all, and I turned up a couple answers. As it goes, the phenomenon we had experienced in the pillared Arizona desert wasn’t a first by any means. On the flight back we could see the spot in which Mum and me danced with death: but there was no crater. This bizarre phenomenon is known as the devil’s palm. A supernatural occurrence in which a large crater will open up in the deserts dotting across North America. Scrolling through various sources on my phone I feel the blood rush from my face. I almost pass out and this time it has nothing to do with the altitude. 80%. My eyes well up and tears threaten to streak across my terrified expression. “Only 20% of those caught in the devil's palm actually emerge with their life.” My head gives no importance to the words but my heart feels their weight without it. We really did have a dance with death. I close the tabs and close my eyes hoping dreams will tear me from reality for a few hours. She can not find out about this.

Back on home soil I manage to hide away the nerves of my cursed knowledge, telling myself how lucky I am to be alive. Airport guards don't bother me for the most part, the safety of home’s beckoning drowning out any fear. Descending the escalator to the lobby I spotted a familiar face. At first the spiked tuft like a conker, blue as the ocean we had not long flown over, doesn't stand out all too much. Paired with the fluorescent mulberry jacket however, it stands out like a sore thumb. I save my words until I'm sure he will hear me. “And why are you here?” I decide to add on a playful nudge for good measure. “Well I am your best friend, so I thought I'd get a scoop on all of your escapades.” When I turn to talk to Mum he lands a friendly slap between my shoulders. “You two run on ahead” She reaches into her purse and hands us some cash to catch a taxi back home. Mum clearly needs some space so I give it to her, vanishing into the crowd with Harry. When we are greeted with sunlight, cars aren't the only things that come into view. “H-Harry…” a strange emotion hits me that I can't place: somewhere between fear and curiosity. At first his glance seems confused but very quickly shifts to that of joy, a relieved laugh fills the silence between us. All the time the figure does not falter, showing no emotion whatsoever, its golden painted eyes boring into me. “You can see it?” His cheery attitude doesn't amuse me because, although comforting in a way, he offers no answers. “Lets flag us a ride and i'll explain on the way” against my better judgement i follow the fool to the rank and ask no questions… yet.

As soon as we are moving he starts throwing me this crazy tale of spirit energy and abilities, it sounds straight out of an anime or something. I decided to keep my mouth shut and instead listen to it all. He called the apparition that trails him a S-T-A-N-D. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I'd label him a madman. All the while he was filling me in on this crazy development in our lives, my eyes were fixed on the blue stand. It’s head is tall, topped with what looks like a crown, in fact the whole thing takes on the appearance of an egyptian pharaoh, if not for the golden piping trailing from it’s waist in place of it’s legs. I was able to grasp it just a little. For all of the trailing he did and tangents he veered down (he is awful at explaining things) he was able to explain a few rules of these stands.

1. Each person can have one stand

2. Each ability is unique, although some are similar

3. Stand users are drawn to one another

4. Not everybody can have a stand

5. Only stand users can see stands

Seems simple enough, although I’m living breathing proof that number five is bullshit. Another key piece of information stuck out to me through the morons ramblings. It was a brief thing he stupidly glossed over, about posers.

Stolen novel; please report.

Emerging from the car I felt a slap in the face from the familiar scent of the market, that even I didn't know I missed so much. I let myself be distracted for a minute, closing my eyes and imagining everything as normal, no brush with death and no special powers. It doesn’t last long however as my dear friend's voice yanks me back into reality, I need to speak to some posers. My carefree stroll quickly turns into the confident stride of a girl on a mission. Harry keeps up fairly easily as we dip through side streets and back alleys like we would after days of nonsense. It takes us little over half an hour of searching, but we eventually encounter a couple down an alley far from any other foot traffic. I don't miss the blush on Harry’s cheeks as he quickly realises who we stumbled across. My attention is quickly drawn away from that though, to observe the dance taking place just mere meters away. Two brightly colour figures duke it out, exchanging blows like pro MMA fighters. Their speed is terrifying. They move in blurs that seem to almost change the colour palette of the battlefield. Both of the stands seem to have full human silhouettes unlike Harry’s stand, [love in an elevator] as he called it. I can distinguish which stand belongs to who by proximity. The one closest to Harry’s school boy crush and ourselves is a gorgeous pastel orange, similar to that of the sunset, with arrows of blue swerving across its surface or ‘skin.’ The other moves far slower (although faster than most people). Its surface is a deep cyan with hints of gold, it wears a crown that looks aztec in origin with armour across its chest and waist. One detail stands out more than the blatant lettering across it, the colossal hands. The letters appear to be numbers upon further inspection. “2s and 1s” comes out of my mouth, a side effect of my expert detective skills. I let my mind go blank as I watch the mesmerizing scene before me. The orange stand launches arrows like a graceful ribbon dancer while the second meets them with various bags of rubbish and paving stones that it appears to command with its gaze. The posers themselves, although acting no differently from usual, look far less ridiculous. In-fact their actions seem to somewhat mimic those of their stands, almost like shadow boxing. The large handed stand looks like it can fuse things together with touch, not a clean join by any means, leaving a lazy weld on the join. Miscellaneous bits of crap fly to each other across the alley to join with one another. The girl's ability is far harder to place. From what I can see she connects the flying objects together with blue tethers shot from the stand’s body. I'd guess her power to be similar to her skilled opponent if she didn't keep cutting the strings. I just can't understand it, I'll confront her afterwards. Maybe Harry can get a word in with the pretty girl. I feel a giggle slip past my lips and My love struck companion doesn't miss it, shooting me a deadly stare: if looks could kill. I suppose it's not just the stands themselves that only the stand users and I can experience; the explosive punches and attacks being exchanged would be sure to attract a crowd if they could be heard. The valiant fighters exchange quips, not that I can understand anything over the ever present thumping. The boy on the far side of the alley falters, if only for a second, but it's enough. The girl’s stand seizes the opportunity and throws herself at her opponent, knocking him to the floor with a swift blow to the stand’s head. Pride radiates from her dancing form in celebration of her clear victory. Subconsciously I start up a round of applause, of which Harry nervously joins me in. she moves like her stand does, effortlessly, pivoting to face us with a smile and a blush. Using her puffy, over-sized sleeves she wipes sweat from her forehand. “S-sorry I didn't realize you were watching. I know posing is weird but it’s fun” she stumbles over her words, I guess people don't usually stop to watch. “You seem to be quite good with your stand.” My words hit her like a punch to the face and her expression if one of shock and joy. “You can see my [cut the cord]?!” it fazes into existence behind her, standing just taller than herself. “Can I see yours?” she leans over in Harry’s direction so close she could touch him, and any words that he might want to say die on his lips, instead he opts for just summoning [love in an elevator]. She certainly is cute and she examines every inch of the blue stand. “and yours?” I'm not ready when her playful attitude crumbles in an instant as she shoots me a serious glance. Perhaps she does fit Harry’s type because even in intimidation mode she is hella cute. “I don't have one” shoots out before I get a chance to stop it. “I know that sounds strange but-” Cute as she may be rude is definitely a word to describe her. “What about your hands?” She cuts me off seeming more curious than anything else. I mimic her curiosity and I give my hands a quick once over. No double take needed, it's exactly like in the desert. They’re green.