Mod tried not to let the busyness of the business overwhelm him. Though, sometimes that is more difficult than others realize. Afterall, his pizzeria was one of the only places young pixies could find an afterschool job. Those pixies—not to mention Pete and Zoey—depended on the restaurant remaining open.

To keep it open, he had to realize a plethora of tasks. For example, he had to balance how many pixies worked a shift versus the number of orders he expected to receive. On weekends, he’d schedule more to work. On weekdays, he’d schedule less. He also needed to ensure the quality of each pizza he sent out. Luckily, his pizza-related skills were rising fast. His slapping proficiency was almost as high as Pete’s. And his skill with the peel and bubble fork neared Zoey’s.

He was responsible for other tasks, too. For example, he had to decide how much to charge for each pizza. It needed to be more than the cost of making a pizza. The price also needed to be high enough to pay pixies for their work. At the end of the day, he needed to pay himself too.

Of course, Pete and Zoey minimized his expenses. They did this by managing all the ingredients for making the sauce, cheese, and toppings. All Mod had to do was make the dough.

Every shift, he and his employees shared a quest called Successful Shift. And new orders appeared as sub-quests. When the sub-quests came up, the pixies spoke with each other to coordinate who would make which pizza. As they finished making pizzas, those pizzas dropped off the sub-quest menu. At that point, Mod would receive a prompt to take the finished products and put them into the oven.

When the pizzas finished baking, a new sub-quest item would appear. It let the delivery experts—Pete and Zoey—know which items to take for different deliveries. They could group deliveries together in their inventory. This allowed them to take more than one delivery at a time.

Once Pete or Zoey finished a delivery, the whole restaurant received a notification for a completed sub-quest. If they delivered over one hundred pizzas in a shift, they’d complete Successful Shift. Completing the quest didn’t give any experience. Though, it did provide them more ingredients for making pizzas. That saved them money. Plus, the pixies received a boost in pay for the day.

At the time, the pixies had to add sub-quest orders themselves. Even so, Mod planned to talk to a tech expert in Futuretown. He hoped to integrate online sub-quest aggregation for his customers. That way, customers could order via their communication boxes. With as busy as the pizzeria had been, he hadn’t been able to take the required time off to make the trip to Futuretown. He could send Pete to do it on a weekday.

Mod found himself in the middle of one of a rush shift. Between making pizzas, the pixies took calls. Customers also came into the pizzeria to make in-person orders. At times, while out on delivery, Pete and Zoey came across people who wanted to make an order. In those circumstances, even Pete and Zoey could add it to the sub-quest list.

As such, the sub-quest list grew faster than it shrank. As it stood, Mod and his pixies needed to make another two-hundred pizzas…and that was if no other orders came in. Under such circumstances, it was easy to become overwhelmed.

Even so, Mod trusted his team, and he trusted himself. He knew all he needed to do was keep putting the pizzas in the oven, pulling them out, cutting them, and sending them out. Afterall, every rush had an end. Not to mention, it was the rush shifts that had come to earn his store it’s reputation…and a healthy boost to his income. In another month or two, he thought, I’ll have enough money to apply to the Foodmaker’s Guild. Before opening the pizzeria, he had never considered joining the guild. It was an ambition he felt above him.

One hour went by, and the sub-quest list remained the same. During the second hour, the triplets—Hope, Skye, and Tornado—came in. They ordered a pizza, staying in the restaurant to accompany their fellow pixies. By the third hour of the rush, things began to slow down. At that point, Mod only had to manage one or two orders at a time. During that calm, Angel took the chance to take the chalk from beside the front door and draw on the slate wall. Shy joined her. As Angel drew, the pixies whispered something back and forth with each other. Then they giggled.

Nolan, Rice, and Tice spoke about music. At some point during the conversation, Nolan pulled out his guitar and began strumming a song. The melody began slow and ominous with resonating notes. Then it shifted to a faster melody. The sound of it felt appropriate for the upcoming Harvestfest celebration.

Using the atmosphere created by the song, Mod asked to no one in particular. “Have any of you ever heard of the Moderator’s Footstep?”

“Our parents took us there once,” Hope replied. “They never told us the story about it, though.”

“But you saw the imprint in the boulder?” Mod scanned his eyes over the triplets.

They all nodded, affirming that they had seen the footprint in the rock.

“Well, the story goes like this.” Mod began. “One night, a citizen of Greenlake looked across the lake. At that moment, he noticed the lights of Futuretown. He thought to himself, Futuretown doesn’t look that far away. If I built a bridge, I could reach Futuretown in half a day. There would be no need to take the three-day journey around the lake.

“As the man thought about making the bridge, a moderator appeared behind him. The moderator explained how building a bridge would be impossible. The man insisted he could build the bridge, so the moderator challenged the man to a contest.

“‘If you can build a bridge, I’ll double your current experience points,’ the moderator explained. ‘But if you fail, I get all your experience points and with it your life.

“The man agreed to the terms of the contest. To begin constructing his bridge, he worked with other townspeople to move a boulder along the coast. It provided a solid foundation for the bridge, and with that foundation, the man began to build.

“For years, he labored, never willing to give up. He wouldn’t let the moderator claim his life. Some say it took a decade; others say it took two decades. It could have taken longer. Even so, the man did finish his bridge. When he did, he called out to the moderator, and the moderator appeared.

“Angered at losing the bet, the moderator stomped his foot on the boulder. It caused the bridge to collapse, leaving a footprint in the rock. Despite his anger, the moderator fulfilled his promise. He allocated the man the promised experience points. Then he disappeared, and no one ever heard from him again.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“I thought a tornado made the footprint,” Tornado said. “Tornados can break rocks.”

“Not everything has to be tornados.” Skye lectured his brother. “Sometimes moderators break things too.”

Hope rolled her eyes, using the most mature voice she could muster. “Guys, it’s a made-up story. Why would a moderator come to Greenlake? That doesn’t make sense. Also, Greenlake is too temperate for tornadoes. I bet the rock has a foot shape from weatherization.”

“Weatherization?” Skye and Tornado asked in unison.”

Hope sighed and began to explain. “It means normal weather…like rain and wind…that kind of stuff. That’s what made the boulder have a footprint shape in it.”

“Weather like tornados, too.” Tornado offered a proud nod with his assertion.

“That’s a scary story.” Nolan joined the conversation. “It’s not as scary as the haunted island, though.”

“Haunted island?” The triplets asked, eyes wide.

“There are more than thirty islands in Greenlake,” Nolan explained. “But one of them is a place where you should never go.

“It is a smaller island, hidden behind one of the four larger islands which are visible from the coast. When I went there, it seemed to be the smallest island of all the islands in Greenlake.”

“The smallest in Greenlake?” Skye’s eyes widened further.

“I’ve never seen any smaller,” Nolan confirmed.

“And you went there?” Hope asked.

Nolan nodded.

“That’s crazy!” Tornado blurted. “No, thanks. No way. Nu-uh. No haunted islands.”

“And when I went there,” Nolan added. “Mist covered it. I couldn’t see from one side to the other.”

“What were you doing there?” Hope questioned.

“I went with some high school friends,” Mod noted how Nolan’s quick reply added credibility to his story. “We were having a party to celebrate the start of summer.”

“I bet the mist made it a scary party,” Skye said.

“No thanks to scary islands! Yes, thanks to tornados.”

“After I anchored our boat,” Nolan continued. “I turned to look at the others, and I couldn’t see them… So I called to them…but they didn’t answer. Since it was a small island, I figured I needed to walk a little, and I’d find them. It didn’t work. The island seemed to stretch on forever. There is no way such a small island can stretch for so long. The mist made it be that way.”

“That’s scary,” Tornado said.

“And there were creepy sounds…moans, shrieks, and howls,” Nolan explained.

“How did you get away?” Tornado asked.

“I decided to fly up.” Nolan paused for dramatic effect. “I thought…it would help me get over the mist…” He paused again.

After a few seconds, Skye broke the silence, “Did it work?”“It did.” Nolan grinned. “My friends had the same idea. Once above the mist, we returned to the boat and left the island. I can only imagine what would have happened to someone without wings. They might have been stuck on the island forever.”

“It was scary.” Rice chimed in. “I was there.”

“For real?” Skye’s eyes were gigantic. Mod didn’t think they could widen any more than they had.

“Yeah,” Rice assured, adding. “But it wasn’t as scary as the story of Bear’s Fruit.”

“Bear’s Fruit?” The triplets asked.

And with that, Rice began the story of Bear’s Fruit. “Once, a long time ago…a bear found itself in a fierce rainstorm. Of course, this was long ago when bears still inhabited Greenlake. Unable to find a cave, the bear sought shelter in the trunk of a hollowed-out tree.

“Rains and winds beat at the tree, but the bear was not scared. He was a brave bear. Even so, his bravery would not save him. For the rains had weakened a nearby hill. Its soil gave way, creating a mudslide which enveloped the tree, taking the bear’s life.”

“The years passed, and the tree continued to grow, enveloping the bear, taking on his shape and spirit.” The tree became part of the bear, and the bear part of the tree.

“Centuries stretched, and time forgot the tree…until one day. On that day, a man came across the tree. It’s branches held something the man had never seen before. Every limb was full of the foreign objects. They were spherical with a red and yellow glow.

“As fruit tends to grow on trees, the man assumed it to be fruit. When he reached up and plucked one of the spheres, his suspicion proved correct. The fruit had a firmness to it and a stem that stuck up like an apple’s stem. Even so, the glowing golden red told him it was special. The man had to know how it tasted, so he took a bite.

“That’s when he heard a voice, ‘who has my fruit.’ The voice asked. Terrified, the man dropped the fruit and fled form the tree, returning to Greenlake.”

“I’m glad he got away,” Skye said.

“That’s the thing,” Rice explained. “He didn’t get away. For the rest of the day, the voice echoed in his head. Who has my fruit? Who has my fruit? It wouldn’t leave him alone. At night, the voice in his head spoke loader and with more frequency. In time, it became a shout in his head. WHO HAS MY FRUIT? WHO HAS MY FRUIT? WHO HAS MY FRUIT? It wouldn’t let him sleep.

“He tried to ignore, but the voice moved closer until it was outside his house. Who has my fruit? A moment later, he heard it inside his living room. Who has my fruit? Then it was in the hallway outside his bedroom. Who has my fruit? He pulled the covers over his head, hoping that would protect him from whatever came.

“He heard the voice again. Who has my fruit? This time, it was in the bedroom. He waited a long time without hearing the voice. All he could hear were his own heavy heartbeats. Thump. Thump. Thump. When he thought he was safe. He lowered the blanket. YOU’VE GOT IT!” As he shouted the final line, Rice lunged at the triplets. All three squealed and jumped back.”

“A tornado would get rid of the voice.” Tornado tried to be brave for his siblings. “Voices don’t like tornados.

"They say the last thing the man saw,” Rice said. “Was the transparent spirit of the bear.”

As Rice spoke the final line, Rumpke and some of the other Trash Pandas entered the pizzeria. “I came across that tree once,” Rumpke said. “The fruit looked delicious, but we had one of our Trash Pandas fall victim to the ghost bear. Now, we all know the story. That’s not the scariest tree near Greenlake, though. There is one that is way scarier.”

Mod raised an eyebrow. He thought he’d heard all the urban legends around Greenlake. But he’d never heard anything about another haunted tree.

Sensing Mod’s doubt, Rumpke insisted. “It’s true. Trash Pandas call it the lonely tree.”

“Trees aren’t talking things. They can’t have feelings.” Tornado said.

“They might have feelings but can’t talk.” Skye hypothesized.

Hope looked at Tornado. “How would you feel if a tree said you didn’t have feelings?”

“That makes me sad,” Tornado answered without any further explanation.

“Anyway,” Rumpke began. “The lonely tree is deeper into the mountain forest. When you get close enough to it, your communication box will receive a message. It uses a name in your contacts, so you think they are talking to you. Then it tries to lure you to it. If you get next to it, It’s roots will wrap around you and pull you into the earth, leaving only your head above the ground.

“From there, the spirit of the tree talks to you. They say it traps you there because it wants a friend. The problem is, once it has you, it isn’t easy to get away.”

“How do you get away?” Skye asked.

“You have to promise to return with more friends. Then it will let you go, hoping you fulfill your promise, helping it to become part of a friend group.”

“The scariest thing in Greenlake.” Mod offered. “Are soul eaters. These other stories are stories. I may be wrong. But soul eaters are real…and they can kill you.”

“Ay,” Rumpke nodded. “That they can. We missed a spirit during last year’s Harvestfest. It became a soul eater about four months back. It took every Trash Panda we could spare to finally end the fiend.”

“Alien portals are real,” Tornado said. “They are scary.”

“They are not real.” Hope protested.

“They are real.” Tornado insisted. “Pete told me he came to Greenlake through a magic portal. He said a magic cat named Max made him come here.”

“You’re making that up,” Skye said. “Like the one time when you said our bodies are acid.”

“Nucleotides,” Tornado said. “They are acid.”

Everyone offered Tornado a blank stare.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked.