Mar told me all about Stats. It was how you could quantifiably tell, beforehand, if you would fail a task, or not.

You just knew, like a sense or something. It was as easy as how you knew your name, or your favourite flavour of chips. My Charisma was 15. My ability to Suck Dick was 20. My Driving was 45. It was for anything and everything which would be a skill, which of course is just anything that would benefit from a little practice.

As for the Fireworks, they were kept in a locked shed in the alley between the General Store, and Libratorium. Mar knew that. It was all very tiring that everyone else knew everything, and I was just lost on it all. But that would change, if I stayed, and wouldn’t at all matter at all, if I left.

Lock Picking required the Thievery skill. My Thievery skill was 2, which basically meant all I could manage was a bottle of nail polish at the self checkout. And that wasn’t relevant here. Mar’s Thievery was much higher. I assume, and I trusted, because he took the initiative, and I was allocated as the Lookout.

So I stood there, guarding the opening of the alley. I leant my weight on my Magic Staff. I sort of wished I had, like a drink, or a smoke, or a phone to scroll through. That reminded me that I didn’t even know where my phone was anymore.

Anyway, I wished I had something to do, like I had to have something to do to justify my existence. Like I couldn’t just stand there. I didn’t like that thought, though. So I denied the entire concept, and decided I would just exist and it was nobody’s business how or why or what I was doing.

A small, bald child stopped before me. He looked up at me. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.” For how young he was, he sort of had the affect of a grumbly old man.

“I’m a traveler,” I said.

“This is my Dad’s store.” He pointed at the General Store.

“Okay. Don’t you have anything related to the Flower Festival to be doing? Run along.”

“I need some Oil from the Shed.”

“Oil, huh. Why do you need Oil?” I glanced behind me. I didn’t see any Mar.

“I need Oil, because my Dad asked me to get some.”

“Yeah, but why? Like what’s the reason. There’s lots of reasons to need Oil. I’m just curious, y’know. About the type of Oil. The use. All that. I come from a long line of Oil manufacturers. Canola Oil, vegetable Oil, regular Oil, so as you see I am very interested in every subject and concern regarding Oil.”

“You’re strange.”

“I’m a stranger. Didn’t your Daddy ever tell you not to talk to them?”

“Yes. I guess so, but I’ve got a Mission. I have to get Oil.”

“What if I give you a Quest? Quest trumps Mission.”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody.”

“Well you’re not my dad. Now move, you’re in my way.”

“That’s not my problem.”

Tears welled up in the kid’s eyes. Jesus Christ.

I bent down. “Hey– I started. I felt a little bad. Not really, but I didn’t want to be responsible for like, trauma, or anything.

The kid rushed past me. He was super fast. It left me shocked for a moment.

Well… Mar was taking way too long anyway. Maybe the lock, on a shed, next to a General Store, was just out of his league. That’s what I mused about, until I noticed him just fucking standing across the way. He was smirking.

I walked over to him.

He stepped closer once I had stopped, and it made the distance a little less than friendly. Or more than friendly. He said, “You were going to let me get caught.”

“You were taking too long.”

“You are a horrible lookout, but that’s fine, because I more than compensate for your ineptitude.” He took my hand and turned it over so my palm was facing up. He put charms in it.

The charms were pretty. There were miniature moons, stars, and hearts. There were ones more abstractly shaped as well, and they were decorated with all colours and patterns. “What are they?”

“They’re Fireworks.”

“Oh. They don’t look like Fireworks.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“They are, promise. That’s your half. I’ll take the other. We’ll stick together until the announcer begins his speech, then we’ll split. As soon as we’re out of eyeshot just drop them. It has to happen before he stops talking. Then, do whatever you want, but we’ll meet back at the Crematorium.”

“Is anybody going to get hurt?” I didn’t really think about that.

“They might, are you gonna change your mind?”

I thought about it. If we didn’t do anything, a lot of people would get more than hurt. What we were doing definitely wasn’t a perfect solution. If we had more time to think of something, maybe it all would have been better. But, it was as good as I thought I could do, all things considered, so I said, “No. I’m good.”

Mar said, “I got you something else too.” He told me to turn around, so I did. I felt his hands in my hair. He was putting it up. He seemed to know what he was doing. After a little while he turned me back around. “There,” he said.

The gesture sort of touched me. Like I thought it was kind of him, or something. But the thing was, I didn’t really want to be touched at all. In any sense of the word. I still had a heart wreck in my aura and it definitely affected how I wanted or could interact with people. I knew that much about myself.

The heartbreak was a two parter.

When I was 15 my English teacher wanted me entirely. That’s what he said to me. I remember it started with a hug in the hall, because he said I looked sad. And then a few months later he stopped acknowledging my existence.

It was a shut down, text neglecting, lose too much weight, kind of heartbreak.

The second part to that was when I was 21 and went to a family reunion for the first time in forever, and my little cousin was 15.

I should’ve said something about it to someone. I know. I promise if I ever get back to the real world, I’ll say something to someone.

I told Mar, “I really don’t want to fall in love with you.” I didn’t mean to say that aloud, but looking back I think it’s important I did, so maybe I did mean to say it. It was just embarrassing.

So he said, “That’s really not my intention. But if it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll make sure you don’t.”

A crowd began to gather in the square. There were families and couples. There were friends and everything. They were dressed in nice, festive clothes; pretty dresses, and pretty suits. Everything was colourful, like flowers. They all clustered, and looked in the direction of the raised wooden platform that faced east.

Mar told me to take his arm.

The air was ripe with anticipation. There was one woman. She cradled a picture frame. The actual photo was pressed into her chest. A man stood next to her. He looked tired.

The speaker started: A disembodied voice boomed through the square.

“I’ll be right back,” Mar put his hand on my arm, and I let go.

I stayed put, and he walked away into the crowd. He disappeared into it, and was encompassed by it. He was consumed by it. I didn’t like being left alone. Usually I didn’t mind it, but in that moment it felt wrong.

I turned my attention to the prisoners being marched out. They appeared in every shape and colour. There was indignance and cold fear in their features and postures. My heart sort of dropped into my stomach. It didn’t feel fair. I don’t know why. I didn’t know what they had done. Maybe if I had, the execution would have felt righteous and fair. Maybe I had no right to intervene. I was an outsider. But not entirely, because I was there. I could see everything. Second, third, and fourth thoughts stumbled over themselves.

I thought it was a bit too late for that, though.

This would be the prisoner’s second chance, I guess.

I was paying it forward.

The whole second chance, rebirth thing.

It could all go unimaginably poorly, but all I could think about was that I was glad not to be at work. I was glad to not have to check people out. I was glad to not hear them complain about gas prices. I was glad to not be fucked by the schedule. I was glad to not have to clean the toilet.

Mar’s Fireworks went off. The instruments bounced on the pavement and burst. It was immediate chaos. There was smoke and sparks of every shape and colour firing, whizzing, and whirring in every direction.

I could still see the prisoners through the smoke. They seemed to catch on quick. They abandoned the platform, and blended back into the crowd. One of the slower ones, an older brunette woman with a stiff upper lip, seized, then fell. She must’ve been electrocuted or something. The smell of her fried body was immediate and nauseating.

There was a figure in a white cloak standing calm in the chaos. They were determined. They were focused on doing something. I cocked my staff and the edge of their robe ignited.

That distracted them.

A man knocked into me. He knocked me flat on my ass. I lit him on fire too, but I’m not entirely sure I meant to. So, maybe it was just a stray spark. Maybe I didn’t have anything to do with it. I honestly couldn’t tell.

A police presence accrued. They seemed to be attempting to keep the chaos contained. They blocked the exits, and collected the people. I could hear the shouting.

Fireworks were still cracking around. It seemed endless, and it seemed like it was time to leave.

I only knew one route back to the Crematorium. It wasn’t an option, with the crowds, and the police, or guards, or whatever the fuck they were called in this Realm. They were different from the Patrol, though, because they had some sort of uniform. It was grey, with stupid matching hats.

I walked and I ducked into an alleyway. It was actually the one between the General Store and Libratorium. The shed was far down the alley, and against a fence, which blocked my path. I tried the door of the shed. It was unlocked. I pulled out a barrel and climbed on top of it, and onto the roof of the shed. The whole thing was rickety, which was a little terrifying, but also sort of fun.

I heard someone yell at me.

I rose and pulled myself over the wooden fence. I dropped down onto the other side, and into a yard that smelt like lilacs.

I remember running, until I couldn’t. I stopped to catch my breath. There was a church. From the outside it looked quaint. It appeared small, made of white wood, and had a cute steeple and everything. It was called the Church of High Haven. That’s what was lettered in blue paint on the front door. The panes of the windows weren’t stained glass, though. They were blacked out.

I walked up the steps, and entered.

It was so quiet. The room was more like a cave than a room. The walls were smooth clay, carved with mosaic patterns. The windows were covered over. There were torches flickering amber light, and a water feature on the far wall, which branched out in small rivers across the slate floor.

It kinda looked like a really nice spa.

I mean, maybe church meant spa in this world.

I really couldn’t tell anymore.