Krista Walsh, Fantasy Author

(May 19, 2026)

Firefly’s ears hurt.

It was worth it, because the concert had been incredible, but the sooner she escaped the crowd to reach the silence of the middle of the night, the happier she would be.

Peace. Quiet. No stresses, no responsibilities. Maybe a burger, but only if no one spoke to her while she ate it.

Her dream was within reach as she broke through the rest of the crowd outside the stadium. Cool air brushed over her cheeks, and she inhaled deeply. A few more minutes, and she would be alone.

There. Finally. Her shoulders dropped with the release of tension, and she tilted her head back, staring up at the stars as she embraced the nothing.

“Excuse me?”

The voice behind her made her stomach drop into the heels of her tasteful boots.

She tried to ignore them, happy to pretend this stranger was speaking to someone else on the empty street, but when they called again, this time with a touch of impatience in their tone, Firefly heaved a sigh and turned around, ready to fight.

“Sorry, but I’m not—”

Her sentence cut short when she found herself staring at... a telephone pole?

But... But no, there was no mistaking it. That was a face staring at from that pole.

“Um... hello?”

The pole frowned. “Not very polite to ignore someone talking to you.”

“I’m sorry.” She was apologizing to a cylindrical slab of concrete. Had the volume of that concert done more damage than she’d realized?

“Don’t apologize, listen,” the pole reprimanded, and Firefly felt like a student in front of the principal. “You’re going to run into trouble in about twenty minutes. Whatever you do, don’t let them catch you. Just run and at the first corner, turn left.”

She blinked at the pole even as raucous laughter sounded from an alley up ahead.

“What?”

“Don’t question,” the pole said. “Run. Left. Go!”

(July 2, 2026)

Firefly didn't know why she was listening to a telephone pole, but the urgency in their voice was so intense she couldn't do anything but.

Her legs burned as her steps ate the sidewalk, down the street, a sharp left into a dark alley.

The pole hadn't directed her on what to do after that, so she slumped against the wall, heaving for breath, and waited.

Seconds later, three figures darted past the mouth of the alley.

"Where'd she go?" The voice was strange. Gravelly. Lined with something... Firefly wasn't sure, but it made the hair on her arms dance.

"Fuck. Boss'll be pissed if we lost her."

"Backtrack."

They ran back the other way, and a soft chuckle echoed to Firefly's left. "Good. Now keep moving."

She turned and discovered a face on the side of the dumpster.

"This is too weird..."

"The answers are coming, but only if you get to safety. When I say go, run to the back of the alley and climb down the sewer."

The sewer? Okay. No. That was too far.

"Go!"

And although Firefly didn't understand why, she went.