Episode II

A Place for Every Child

Amaris woke up to Pitch flicking his tongue over her nose. With a smile, she lifted up her hand and peeled the reptile off her face so she could open her eyes without fear. She wasn’t all that surprised that she wasn’t back in the hotel room with her parents, or even in her own bed back home. Still, even though everything she knew told her that her experiences yesterday weren’t a dream, some part of her had held out hope.

The other part knew that something incredible had happened to her. As harrowing as it had been, she was still a little excited about it all. Here she was, in a new place, far from home. Might as well take it all in…

The bed she was in was far too large for one person, let alone a girl of her size. Otherwise, it wasn’t impressive—the sheets were pure white, the pillows had no designs on them, and the bedposts were carved out of cheap-looking wood. As she looked around the rest of the room, she noted that it was so tidy as to be dull, with every dresser, mirror, and family picture in its precise place. Uncluttered to the point of bareness. Throughout the entire room, the only signs of even moderate disorder were Amaris herself and her backpack sitting next to the bed.

With a disappointed sigh, Amaris sat up and crawled across the mattress until she could hang her feet off the edge. Using her toes, she undid a latch on the side of her backpack while Pitch slithered down her leg. She pulled out her shoes just as Pitch slid back into his mobile home, ready for Amaris to pick everything up.

“Hup!” Amaris called to herself, mustering the motivation to jump out of bed and stand strong. Determined to start the day off well, she hefted up her backpack with gusto and tightened her grip around the straps as if she were about to set off on a hiking expedition.

Her mission: make it to the door out of the bedroom. However, this task was not to be completed immediately, for one of the family pictures on the dresser caught her eye. It was of the officer who had taken care of her yesterday and his wife, smiling brightly while a large Ferris wheel shone in the background. Amaris had been drawn to the wheel—thinking it was similar to the one at the Cat-Ival—but she found herself staring into the kind eyes of the woman in the picture.

Amaris frowned. She didn’t remember the woman smiling once when the officer had brought Amaris last night. Were it not for her distinctive pale skin Amaris would have thought it was a different woman in the picture.

“I was just tired,” she told Pitch. From somewhere within the backpack, he hissed in response. “No, I’m not talking to myself, I’m talking to you.”

Amaris sensed the next hiss was an incredulous one, but she couldn’t be certain.

Deciding that she’d done enough dilly-dallying, Amaris marched to the door of the bedroom and walked out, finding the rest of the home outside to be just as overly tidy as the bedroom. Every picture was framed, in line with each of the others, and freshly dusted, while a plant sitting in the corner of what looked like a sitting room had immaculately green leaves without a sign of blemish on them. Even the floor glistened slightly from polish. Someone in this house took cleaning way too seriously, and Amaris had her suspicions about who it was.

However, she smelled something decidedly untidy—food. Specifically, the immaculate scent of maple syrup and fresh pancakes. Finding her spirits lifted by the correct identification of the confectionery, she ran the rest of the way down the hall to the kitchen where the officer was just finishing up cooking a stack of pancakes.

“Good morning, Officer Dawson!” she called, taking a seat at the kitchen table without even asking.

Officer Dawson looked at her with a grin. “Look who’s awake! You want pancakes?”

“Yes, I would, thank you. And Pitch wants some too.”

Officer Dawson smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re eating for two. Naturally, that means… a double serving!” He plopped four pancakes onto a plate and slid them comically across the table, the bottle of maple syrup following close behind. Amaris had to reach her hand out to keep the bottle from tipping over.

“Nice catch,” Officer Dawson said.

“You should see Pitch play baseball,” Amaris offered as she poured the syrup over her oversized pancake stack, tracing out a vaguely grid-like pattern with the streams of sugary delight.

“I’m sure he’s got a mean fastball.”

“The meanest.” Amaris opened her mouth wide and thrust four layers of pancake into her mouth. “Mmmm… yer a great cook!”

“Why, thank you! Sometimes I think my skills are underappreciated in this house!”

“They’re just pancakes,” his wife said as she strode into the room, fixing Amaris with an unpleasant glare. The woman’s eyes had bags under them and her hair was a tangled mess—a fact that her left hand didn’t approve of as it continually tried to comb the mess to a presentable shape.

Officer Dawson didn’t let his smile falter—but Amaris was already on guard. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what the woman’s look meant. After taking another bite of pancake, she did her best not to make eye contact with the woman while talking to Officer Dawson. “So, did you find… anything last night?”

Officer Dawson shook his head. “I’m sorry, kid, I’ve got nothing so far. I’ll suggest to the Chief that we move your case up the chain to people with more resources. This doesn’t mean I’ll stop working on it, it just means I’m getting more people involved.” He leaned in. “I’m going to find your parents, Amaris.”

Amaris couldn’t help but smile at this. “Thanks.”

“She’s just a random child, Jim,” the woman said as if Amaris wasn’t there. “You don’t have to do this yourself. There—“

“—Is nothing more worthwhile I can do with my time than help a lost girl,” Officer Dawson finished for her.

She scowled. “You are the officer… though, you can’t possibly take her to work with you.”

“I know…” Officer Dawson sighed and turned to Amaris. “Sorry, I can’t have you on the case with me.”

“That’s… okay,” Amaris said, forcing a soft smile. “I’ll just stay here, then.”

“Heavens, no!” The woman was taken aback by the suggestion. “You’ll ruin the house!”

What is your problem, lady?

Officer Dawson folded his hands. “Don’t worry, Amaris, I’ve already arranged a place for you to be taken care of. It’s not exactly the ideal place, but it shouldn’t be for very long.”

Amaris got the feeling she really wasn’t going to like this. “Where?”

“The local orphanage has agreed to give you a place until we sort this out. Don’t worry, you’re not going there permanently, and…” He looked at her with pleading eyes. “It’s all I could find quickly.”

“Honestly?” Amaris tilted her head to the side. “That’s nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be when you started talking.” Lost kids of all sorts probably get sent there while the adults sort out who they are. This is normal. “Do you know anyone there…?”

“Not… really,” Officer Dawson admitted. “But they have good credentials and good standing. And there’ll be other kids there!”

Joy, other kids… “Sounds… fun. When do we leave?”

“As soon as you finish eating.” He sat back.

“You should leave earlier,” his wife chided. “You’ll be late for wor—“

“When she finishes eating,” he reiterated.

The woman huffed, turning to Amaris. She looked like she wanted to say something biting, but the words died in her throat when she saw Pitch slithering down Amaris’ arm to lick at the syrup. A look of abject disgust and contempt ripped to the surface of her face, and all she could do was turn around and storm out of the room.

Amaris and Officer Dawson took a moment to stare blankly at each other. Pitch licked the syrup again. Amaris couldn’t help but giggle a little—prompting Officer Dawson to join in with a chuckle.

Not wanting Officer Dawson to be too late, Amaris decided to dig into her pancakes a little faster, forgetting for a moment that she’d been given a double serving and that Pitch definitely couldn’t eat his fair share of the meal. He was a carnivore only here for the syrup, the bread itself just wouldn’t do it for him.

This left Amaris to face the breakfast beast alone.

~~~

“Ooogh…” Amaris groaned from the backseat of the car.

“Pitch didn’t help you much, did he?” Officer Dawson called and he turned the next corner.

“He can’t really eat bread…” Amaris shot a betrayed look at the snake resting atop the backpack seated next to her. He only flicked out his tongue in response.

“Well, better get all your agonized wails out soon, because we’re almost there.”

Instinctually, Amaris sat up straight and combed her fingers through her hair. It was probably best if she made a good impression here rather than doing her usual thing that ended in people screaming in panic at a snake inches from their nose. She pressed her finger to Pitch’s mouth and gently pushed him into the backpack—after which she closed the Velcro flaps the snake used to move in and out. “Now you stay in there for a while, okay?”

A muffled hiss came in response.

“I’m sure the other kids will like him,” Officer Dawson said.

“Maybe,” Amaris said. “But the adults?”

“…Good point…”

“I’ve kept him hidden before, I can do it here. He’s a smart snake.”

Officer Dawson pulled into a small parking lot under some rather sickly-looking birch trees. After they were fully parked and ready, he turned back to look at her. “You sure you don’t need someone to look after him?”

“Officer, do you know the first thing about caring for snakes?”

“Uh…”

Amaris nodded; that settled it. She undid her seatbelt; putting on a little blue jacket Officer Dawson had given her last night since she hadn’t been dressed for the chilly weather. She hopped out of the car, twisting the backpack onto her shoulders. “Right. Let’s see this place.” She walked around the car, looking to the orphanage itself.

She had been expecting either a run down mess or some kind of haunted castle, but instead, it was a rather homely structure reminiscent of a log cabin with warm lights surrounded by trees. To the left of the house the trees quickly gave way to the rest of the city, but the right was nothing but forest—though the trees closest to the orphanage were rather malnourished, but Amaris chocked that up to poor grounds keeping. Or perhaps the fact that birch trees always looked like they were about to snap in half from the strain of existence.

Officer Dawson gestured for her to follow him, which she did. The closer they got the more inviting the place looked. The double oak doors were well furnished, one of the windows had stickers of the alphabet stuck to the inside edge, and Amaris could make out what looked like a video game area through another window. It seemed more and more inviting by the minute.

Amaris didn’t figure out what was wrong until Officer Dawson was already knocking on the doors.

She heard no sounds of children whatsoever. No laughs, no shouts, no little feet slamming into the ground as hard as possible as they scrambled around. Not even a cry. It was silent.

Large groups of children were never silent.

“Uh, Off—“

Before she could say anymore, the doors opened to reveal an old woman with one of the largest noses Amaris had ever seen. For being so wrinkled and haggard, she moved with a strange strength that suggested she could fold someone in half if they so much as looked at her funny. Her all-white clothing was the sort of thin, papery threads that someone wore when they wanted to feel young or look innocent.

Amaris decided she was not to be trusted immediately.

The woman only glanced at Amaris for a moment before turning her gaze upward. “Ah, Officer Dawson, this must be the girl from a place that doesn’t exist?”

“We’re still working out the details… it might be a while. You have a place ready for her?”

“Yes, yes, there’s always at least one empty room at Miriam’s!” Her tone suggested an attempt at happiness, but instead Amaris could only hear it as some kind of unspoken threat.

“Glad to hear it. Remember, this is only temporary, until we find out where she’s from.”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Of course, of course…”

“And the state will compensate you.”

“I already told your secretaries over the phone that it wasn’t necessary!” She looked at Amaris one more. “Children are all the payment I need…” Amaris really wanted her to stop looking at her.

Officer Dawson tipped his hat to the woman. Instead of going, he kneeled down to Amaris’ level. “You go with Mrs. Ibis now, all right? You have my number, call if you need anything.”

Amaris nodded. “I will…” Against her better judgment, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thank you for trying.”

“I’m not done trying yet!” He said with a laugh, picking her up and spinning her around once. His face told Amaris that he wanted to swing her around more… but he forced himself to set her down and stand up. “Listen to Mrs. Ibis, all right?”

Amaris nodded. “All right. See you later, Officer!”

“See you later, kid.” With a wink and a smirk, he returned to his car. She waved at him as he drove off, and he made sure to wave back.

“Touching,” Mrs. Ibis said. “Now, Miss Kelvin?”

“Hmm?”

“Care to come inside?”

Amaris really didn’t want to. The silence was oppressive, and everything about Mrs. Ibis seemed wrong, but what else was she going to do? Run off into the forest and give up her connection to Officer Dawson, her best shot at getting home? No, she told herself. It was time to endure whatever nonsense was in this place.

With a soft nod, she followed Mrs. Ibis inside. It was just as homely inside as it was outside. The lighting was soft and pleasant, there were wooden carvings of angels in the entryway walls, and everything was clean and spotless. Plus, there were the video games over in the corner there… though nobody was playing them.

Mrs. Ibis grabbed her forcefully by the wrist. Not enough to hurt, but tight enough to let Amaris know she was in charge. “Come.”

Amaris obeyed, scampering just behind Mrs. Ibis as she marched up a stairwell to the second floor. While the lighting was just as warm and comfortable here, there were no games and no carvings. The walls were bare and the doors were flat and uninteresting.

Mrs. Ibis dragged her past door after door, each one whizzing by so fast that Amaris lost count. The door they stopped at looked no different than any of the others, not even so much as a number on the doorknob for differentiation purposes.

Mrs. Ibis opened the door and dragged Amaris into what was, all things considered, a rather large bedroom for an orphanage. However, there was virtually nothing in the room. It contained a single bed with blank white sheets, a small nightstand with a lamp on top of it, and a simple wooden chair. There was a fixture in the ceiling for a lightbulb, but none was installed—all the lighting came through the window. There was a nice view of the forest outside, but it was a small pittance for the complete lack of everything else.

“You have one hour to make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Ibis stated matter-of-factly. “Then it will be ten o’clock, the normal time for breakfast, at which point there will be Roll Call and you will experience proper orientation. Meet at the entrance hall, and do not be late. So many children are.” And with that, Mrs. Ibis closed the door to the room, leaving Amaris alone inside.

Well, she didn’t try to eat me, she just thinks I’m worthless. Amaris smirked. I’ll show her. I’ll be early!

With that, Amaris took off her backpack and set it on the only suitable location to go over its contents—the bed. She undid the Velcro first, letting Pitch slither out. “We’re gonna have to keep you hidden, she’ll get rid of you the instant she sees you.”

Pitch hissed.

Amaris nodded as though she understood and opened the main flap of the backpack, revealing its inner workings. Half of its space was taken up by Pitch’s enclosure: a little plastic prism with several holes in and out of it. It had the practical things required for reptile care: a little heat lamp, a water tube, and foam balls for Pitch to bite for fun. The heat lamp wasn’t currently on, since Amaris’ own body heat was enough for Pitch most of the time, but it was good to have. However, the enclosure wasn’t just practical—it had been hand-designed by her parents, supervised by Amaris herself. Mathematical waves were etched into the sides, coming together in brilliant spiral patterns and occasionally nested geometric shapes. It was ridiculous and over the top and she loved it.

She traced her finger over an infinity symbol carved into one of the corners, smiling as she remembered her Dad carving it in himself. I’ll get back to you, I promise.

The other half of the pack had a large variety of other items that took up almost every available space, including most of the exterior zippers and pockets. There were a lot of spare batteries—the heat lamp, even though it wasn’t used much, needed replacements from time to time. As did the next item, the state-of-the-art graphing calculator, packed with everything the budding mathematician might need. Her parents had given it to her instead of a smartphone, a choice Amaris was perfectly happy with since having a phone would imply that people could call her up anytime they wanted, and that thought was simply terrifying.

After this was a large mostly-empty notebook that had been intended for use as a “vacation diary” but Amaris hadn’t used it for much aside from scratch work on that one probability problem she couldn’t do in her head. A crate of freeze-dried crickets for Pitch to eat, assuming he didn’t find some bugs to eat on his own, which he often did.

Then, of course, there was the broken magic mirror. Amaris stared at it for a good, long while. It was probably extremely valuable, even without its magic properties. And yet… the thought of selling it seemed blasphemous to her. It was on this journey with her, now, and it wasn’t getting out of it that easily.

Beyond this, it was mostly small things. Colored pencils, erasers, band-aids, a tiny book of helpful mathematical constants and equations, her school ID, a few coins, a multi-tool, a bag of cat-shaped trail mix bits she’d gotten from the Cat-Ival, some unusually shaped rocks she’d picked up somewhere she couldn’t recall, a flashlight, a GameBrick with a few game cartridges, a change of clothes identical to what she was wearing now save the jacket, and a wind up golden cat.

Since the cat was the last thing she pulled out, she took a moment to examine it. It was from the Cat-Ival, one of the things she’d won that she hadn’t given to her parents. She wound it up and set it on the nightstand, where it waved its paw back and forth, spinning a little indicator in its chest.

Uh-oh! the indicator read.

“Silly fortune teller…” She let the cat keep waving at nothing while she stroked Pitch’s head. “So, now what are we going to do with you?”

Pitch glanced at the window and hissed.

With a shrug, Amaris opened the pane and let the cool air in. There was a planter hanging from the outer windowsill, but it was filled with old, dry dirt, and not a single plant. I’ll have to fix that, get some green in here.

Beyond the planter was the forest, dotted with trees and bushes, most of which were coniferous. A chill wind blew through the air.

With a frown, Amaris glanced back at the room. Nope, there was nowhere to hide Pitch’s enclosure anywhere in there. He’d have to go outside… in the cold.

She quickly returned to the heat lamp and pulled its batteries out—they may not have been drained, but she needed fresh batteries in it, just to be safe. She flicked it on and placed the enclosure back in the backpack, quickly following it with the change of clothes for insulation, but she made sure to leave one of the velcro tabs open so Pitch could get in and out as he wished. Almost as an afterthought, she threw all the extra batteries in, as well as the container of dried crickets: Pitch wasn’t going to be able to open that himself.

“Right… here goes nothing.” Amaris guided Pitch back into his enclosure and hefted the backpack in her hands. She poked her head out the window and held the backpack out.

With a frown, she lowered the backpack. Her plan had been to throw it into one of the bushes in the forest, but she wasn’t a very accurate shot, that could go wrong in so many ways. Briefly, she considered burying him in the planter, but that would be very obvious considering how cracked and dead the earth was now.

However, as luck would have it, looking to the left of her window she saw a hefty runoff drain pipe designed to deal with water sliding off the roof of the orphanage. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hopped out the window and clung to the drain. It didn’t have any handholds, but she was light and it was rough enough for her to cling to it with some effort. She didn’t exactly descend quietly with her hands banging against the edges, so once she made it to the ground she moved quickly. Rather than stuffing her backpack in a bush like she’d originally planned, she found a particularly dense area of needles in a nearby tree. Had she not been wearing a jacket, she would have scraped her arms up considerably hanging the pack in the tree.

Pitch poked his head out of his lopsided home and hissed.

“You stay there if you want to keep warm. You know how to hunt if you need food, but, uh, you shouldn’t for a while and…” She pressed her nose to his snout. “I’ll be out here tonight to check on you, okay?”

He licked her nose.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Behave, you hear me? It’s cold out, and you don’t like the cold! Be… careful.” She ran back to the orphanage, climbing back up the pipe, finding it much easier to ascend when she wasn’t carrying anything. With a haphazard leap, she threw herself back into the window, landing face-first on the floor inside.

“Ow…” While rubbing the bruise forming on her head, she used her free hand to close the window. She took a moment to stare at the tree Pitch was in. There was no sign of him from the outside—which was the entire point.

Still, she was rarely without Pitch just inches away from herself. It unnerved her in a way she couldn’t put into words, to be without the constant weight of his enclosure on her back.

He would be fine. The lamp would keep him warm, and snakes did not need to eat or defecate often. If he needed either, he was a smart snake… well, smart enough.

He might have been just as scared as she was about the whole thing…

Amaris prayed that Officer Dawson would find her parents quickly and all this nonsense would just end.

With a sigh, she set all her belongings on the nightstand, setting her calculator to beep five minutes before she was supposed to leave her room for “orientation.” After this, she pulled out her GameBox and started dropping blocky puzzle pieces into specific shapes to gain points.

It was understandably hard for her to focus on the game.

The wind-up cat stopped waving, its display still saying Uh-oh!

~~~

Amaris’ calculator let out a simple five-note jingle she’d programmed into it herself, letting her know it was time. With a determined look, she shut off her GameBox and stood up. Instinctually she reached for her backpack, grabbing nothing but air. Clenching her hands into fists, she took a moment to gather herself.

Prove her wrong. Be better. Be faster!

She locked her arms behind her back and set out, making sure to close the door behind her. Setting her face on the task ahead, she marched like a soldier reporting for duty: eyes stern, face determined. Her footsteps were the only sound that rang through the halls on her journey, but she refused to let that bother her. As she moved, she counted doors, assigning each of them a number in relation to each other so she could be certain to find her way back to her room.

It was not difficult to find the stairwell—situated where door twenty-seven would have been. She descended and walked to the entry hall, taking an attentive pose in front of the main desk.

There was no sign of human habitation. The only noise was the ticking of the circular wall clock, which told her she was three minutes early. Amaris found the mechanical device’s regular tone oddly soothing, and she spent a fair chunk of time watching the second hand make its satisfying journey around the clock.

Two minutes before ten, there was an alarmingly loud creaking noise that came from up the stairs, followed quickly by a few tremendous thumps, and then a click that sounded a lot like a door latching, just over a dozen times louder.

What…?

The thumps returned, happening precisely in time with the drowned-out ticking of the clock. Amaris’ composure fell as the intensity of the sound increased with each thump, almost to the point of prompting her to run out of the orphanage’s front doors and never looking back. But she remained, rooted to the spot, long enough to see the source of the sound.

Children. Children walking in perfect time. This was not the kind of timing a marching band or a military platoon had—this was something much more precise. In any normal situation, feet and shoes never hit the ground at the same time, there was always some kind of delay or slight echoing effect. All of that was absent as each child’s foot hit the ground with no deviation from any of the others.

They descended the stairs, smiling, but staring straight ahead as if they weren’t looking at anything—or were blind. There were a wide variety of ages and genders among them, and they either wore simple worn-down clothes with minimal designs or a stark-white gown that made it hard to determine the gender of the younger kids.

Row by row, they filed into the main hall, taking position behind Amaris in perfect lines. It didn’t matter if the child was a teenager or barely more than a toddler, they stood perfectly rigid and tall. The smiles never faltered. This wouldn’t have been unnerving to Amaris were it not for the fact that all of them were smiling the exact same smile in the exact same way. Nobody’s faces were able to naturally sit so close to each other like that.

The last child entered the grid at the exact moment the clock struck ten. In that instant, Mrs. Ibis opened a door from the back and marched to the front of them.

“Ah, you made it,” she said, glaring at Amaris. “Surprising.”

“I was early,” Amaris said, deciding that talking to Mrs. Ibis was far preferable to considering what was wrong with all these kids.

“We’ll break you of that nasty habit soon enough…” Mrs. Ibis grumbled. “But, you are new, you will have to be broken in. Anyway… Good morning, Children.”

“Good morning Mrs. Ibis!” The sound of several dozen young voices speaking the words in exactly the same saccharine tone and robotic timing sent chills down Amaris’ spine.

“Now, we have a newcomer with us today. Say hello to Amaris Kelvin.” Mrs. Ibis forcefully turned Amaris around so she could look at the rest of the children. Amaris opted not to smile—maybe whatever they had was contagious.

This did nothing to deter the children. “Hello, Amaris Kelvin! It’s great to have you here!”

Mrs. Ibis turned Amaris back around to face her. “Now, it’s time for your orientation!”

I swear, if this involves me running through some kind of death gauntlet…

“Every day you are expected to be down here at precisely ten o’clock, in line with the others. After the morning meeting, you will have breakfast in the room to the left, which will last an entire hour. From eleven to four, you will clean the orphanage until it sparkles, and if it’s already sparkling, keep cleaning. At four there is dinner hour. We only have two meals here. Afterward, you return to your rooms for free time until the next day.”

Amaris tilted her head back. That’s terribly boring, but not a death gauntlet. …Do we never get to use the game consoles or the classroom?

“There are few rules. You will work when it is time to work. If something doesn’t make sense or you are confused, come see me in my office through that door. If I am not there, wait for me to return. You will find two jars in your room after chores are done for today, if you clip your nails, you are to put them in there, be sure to separate accordingly.”

Amaris blinked, her mind going blank.

“Furthermore, be sure to use the proper restroom. The one on the left is for urination, the right for defecation.”

Amaris didn’t even have thoughts to tell herself how outlandishly bizarre and strange that was.

“This concludes orientation,” Mrs. Ibis said.

Amaris shook her head rapidly. “Wait, hold on, I have que—“

“Come with us, Amaris!” the children said, a half-dozen of them grabbing her and dragging her away. “It’s breakfast time!”

Amaris stared right into Mrs. Ibis’ eyes as she was dragged away. The woman only sneered in response. Amaris knew she’d heard her. But, apparently, she just wasn’t allowed to ask questions.

All she was allowed to do was be dragged to breakfast. A meal she’d already had today. Her stomach growled in agony. She ignored it. All things considered, the mob of eerie children was a more pressing concern.

They somewhat forcefully set her down on a wooden stool seated at an exceptionally well-polished wooden table, one of ten in the extended dining room. A bowl of white, warm sludge was dropped in front of Amaris with a shining spoon. Upon closer inspection, she found that it was oatmeal pureed to the point of almost not having any texture. Why someone would do this, she had no idea, but it was rather low on her list of inexplicable things that made her uncomfortable right at this moment.

At the very top of that list were the other children. Once they had dished out the food they had all sat down at the same time and just… stared off into space. Amaris wondered if they were going to eat when, all of a sudden, they all dove their spoons into the oatmeal and thrust it into their mouths, even going so far as to swallow in unison. Then they all went back to staring with their immobile smiles at absolutely nothing. Some time later, they all dove their spoons in again.

Amaris started to time it. At precisely thirty-second intervals, they dove their spoons in—not a second sooner, not a second later. None of them spoke to her or any of the others. They smiled, but at nothing.

Amaris, being overly full, only had a few spoonfuls before deciding she’d had enough. At the very least, it was edible, even though it didn’t really taste like anything, so she wasn’t going to starve here.

The other kids dove their spoons back into their bowls.

So I just… sit here for an hour. She glanced around the dining room, finding nothing of interest to examine aside from the children themselves, and at the moment she decided examining them wasn’t good for her mental health. She spent some time studying the grains in the table, becoming lost in potential equations that could be used to describe the whirls and lines dancing along with the wood.

Looking up, she found that it had only been five minutes.

This simply won’t do. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the person closest to her—a redheaded girl slightly older than she was. “Hello! I’m Amaris!”

The girl made no response. Then she dove her spoon into her bowl and continued to have no response after that.

“Uh… what’s your name?”

The girl kept smiling and not making eye contact.

“Okaaaaaay…” Amaris sat back in her chair, staring at the bowl of not-really-oatmeal in front of her. Out of sheer boredom, she took another bite, discovering that her stomach was just as unreceptive to more food as it was five minutes ago.

After letting out a series of half-formed mumbles, she turned back to the redhead. “So… is that all you do?”

The girl took another spoonful.

“…Hello?” Amaris poked her in the shoulder. It was as though she didn’t feel it. Amaris decided the only course of action was to poke harder. And harder. Until essentially she was pushing on the girl. The girl’s only response was to apply resistance to the shoving in order to remain sitting up and able to eat the oatmeal.

With a scowl, Amaris pulled her hands back, intending to shove her off the chair. She thrust her arms forward—and stopped herself, inches away from following through.

What… am I doing?

Ashamed, she pulled her arms back and looked down into her oatmeal. “S-sorry…” she mumbled.

The girl took another spoonful and ate it, seemingly oblivious.

Amaris didn’t look up. If they were all going to sit and pretend as though nothing else existed, she might as well do the same. It was sure what she felt like doing right now.

She spent all of lunch hour like this, staring at nothing. The only differences between her and the other kids were her lack of reliable motion and that creepy, robotic smile.

The instant lunch hour ended, all the children shoveled the last bit of oatmeal in their bowls into their mouths, as though they had planned to make the bowl last the entire hour. They stood up in unison, picking up their bowls and carrying them to the kitchen.

Amaris scrambled to follow them with her own bowl, becoming a disorganized rear end to the otherwise well-oiled machine of children moving in and out. Bowls were stacked in neat pillars in a hexagon pattern. Amaris opted to leave hers in a “stack” of its own since it still had food in it, but she absent-mindedly placed it in the same hexagon packing pattern the other children were using.

She followed the others out, arriving soon at a large closet filled with brooms, mops, feather dusters, cleaning chemicals, and many other cleaning implements. Each child took one and set to work—scrubbing a floor, dusting the furniture, or going to clean the toilets. Amaris herself picked up a broom since it seemed simple enough to use and wouldn’t require to her interact with any of the others for assistance.

However, she noticed something odd as she started working. It wasn’t the fact that most of the children were cleaning something that was already polished to absurdity—this was probably why everything was so polished—but rather the fact that none of them were doing it very efficiently. A boy using chemicals to clean the handrail on the stairs sprayed a tiny amount of the cleaner and then wiped it off with a cloth before repeating and doing the same thing again and again. A girl with a broom swept with slow, methodical motions, rarely progressing forward in her task.

“You’re all insane,” Amaris said, aloud. None of them responded.

With a shrug that was a lot less confident than Amaris liked to think it was, she set to work. With a floor that was so clean already, it was pathetically trivial to sweep. It gave Amaris an opportunity to figure out the layout of the orphanage. There was the entrance hall, the video game room that none of the children were using, the classroom, the dining room, the kitchen, the closet, the laundry room, and some kind of sitting room with furniture that looked like none of it had ever been sat in. Beyond that, there was the second floor, which contained both bathrooms and an absurdly large number of rooms for the children. Amaris counted one hundred and nineteen by the time she was done sweeping.

She’d tried to avoid the bathrooms for as long as she could, but there was nothing she could do to hold back the call of nature forever. With a defeated sigh, she hoisted up her broom and entered the bathroom labeled with a “U” on the door. It was a little strange to her since clearly it had once been a men’s restroom given the urinals off to one side, but it was otherwise a perfectly normal bathroom with a handful of stalls, sinks, and—of course—spotless surfaces everywhere. There was only one other girl in there when Amaris arrived, and she was slowly dusting off the light bulbs in the ceiling.

Amaris half expected some nightmarish creature to jump out at her while she did her business, but no such thing happened. She wrapped up, left the stall, washed her hands, and left. Nothing happened.

She couldn’t bring herself to breathe a sigh of relief. It was just so… wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

However, it was still “cleaning time” and Amaris wasn’t yet at the point where she was willing to risk making Mrs. Ibis furious by not doing work, so she exchanged the broom for a mop and set about making the shiny floors… still shiny.

This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to make light of the situation. She didn’t find her observation funny.

~~~

Amaris didn’t see Mrs. Ibis the rest of the day. All the children moved to eat Dinner as a unit—apparently, some of them had made more oatmeal and washed all the dishes—and ate it in the exact same way they had breakfast. Now that she was able to eat the entire bowl, Amaris found that it was filling enough.

Immediately after dinner, all the children returned to their rooms. Amaris decided she would do the same—all her things were in there, and they were leagues better than the rest of the orphanage.

She opened the door and walked in… to find all her belongings were completely gone. For a moment she thought she was in the wrong room, but no, the view out the window was the exact same. Besides, she had counted the number of doors to get back here. This was the right room. Just without any of her things.

The only items in the room that hadn’t been there when she first arrived were a pair of nail clippers and two jars: one labeled “fingernails” and the other labeled “toenails.” Their purpose was obvious.

Amaris vowed to not cut her nails for as long as was physically possible just to avoid that weirdness. She carefully picked up the jars and the clippers and put them in the corner of the room furthest from the bed. Then she ripped the neatly folded sheets off the bed and tied them into a basic rope. Nothing fancy—just enough to get her onto the ground outside without using the immensely noisy drainage pipe. She popped the window open, prepared to go climb down and check on Pitch. However, he was already there, sitting on top of the planter.

“Oh. Hello!” She took him into her room and nuzzled him closely. “Were you waiting for me to get back?”

Pitch let out a lazy yawn and uncoiled slightly, revealing a bulge in his midsection.

“That… must be a really small mouse in there.”

Pitch flicked his tongue out in response.

“Did you know they took all my stuff?” Amaris asked him. “Look at this!” She gestured widely at the room. “I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back and the stuff in the forest at this point! Those stupid kids probably ‘cleaned’ my room and everything in it… How am I going to get it all back?”

Pitch tilted his head to the side as he slithered around her arm.

“I’ll have to ask Mrs. Ibis…” Amaris swallowed hard. “Tomorrow. When she comes out of her office. It would be bad if I annoyed her even more, huh?”

Pitch hissed in seeming agreement.

Amaris sat down on her bed, pulling her knees to her chest—both to comfort herself and give Pitch another shape to slither over. “I don’t know… I figured being good would get me back to Mom and Dad sooner, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything… she’s ignoring me, for all I know these kids are all robots, and I can’t even do math to calm my nerves! Agh!” She flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Pitch slithered up to her face and flicked out his tongue to her nose. She couldn’t help but smile. “At least I have you…” Quickly, she sat up, taking Pitch in her hands. “All right, Pitch, let’s play! Snake jump!”

Pitch reeled back a bit at this suggestion.

“Hey, I had to go through today with a stomach filled to capacity, you don’t get to use a full belly as an excuse.” She lifted him up in one hand and held out her other hand a short distance away. “So… jump.”

Sluggishly, Pitch slithered to the edge of Amaris’ hand. He made a half-hearted attempt to launch to the other hand, but fell so short he landed on the bed, falling head over tail, dazed.

Amaris laughed. “Silly snake… let’s try something else. Finger-weaving?”

Pitch was much more on board with slithering around her fingers than jumping with a full belly.

And so girl and snake played and enjoyed each other until the sun set, and Amaris herself let out a yawn. Carefully, she opened up the window and slid down using the roped-up bed sheet, carrying Pitch back to the backpack. The heat lamp was still working at full power, but she went and changed the batteries anyway just to be safe and gave him a cricket in case he got hungry.

“See you tomorrow night…” She patted him on the head and left him there. She grabbed onto the bedsheet rope and pulled herself back into her room, closing the window behind her and quickly undoing the sheet so she could sleep in it.

Even so, she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to fall asleep. She didn’t feel safe here, there were a hundred other kids who felt more like automatons than humans and Mrs. Ibis was simply unnerving to be around. This was not her home and she had none of her things with her. She knew fear and didn’t know what she could do about it.

The fact that she fell asleep with little to no effort was a welcome surprise at that moment.

~~~

When Amaris woke up, she felt absolutely refreshed, almost more well-rested than she had ever been. This brought a smile to her face—maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

But then she remembered the children, Mrs. Ibis, and everything else that was wrong about this place. It should have been impossible for her to sleep that well.

She shivered involuntarily, not sure what to do with this information.

Glancing outside, she noted that the sun was up. Shortly afterward, she realized she didn’t have a clock and needed to know what time it was. With a sigh, she jumped out of bed, put her shoes on, and reached for her backpack on reflex, once again grasping at nothing.

All she could do was grit her teeth, lock her hands behind her back, and leave her room, walking down the large hall to the stairs and to the entryway.

It was 9:40, she had twenty minutes until breakfast. So she decided to do some “investigating,” which was to say she went to the only interesting room in the whole orphanage: the entertainment room.

None of the video game consoles were even plugged in. Upon inspection, none of them even had games inside. Attempting to turn the TVs on just set them to static, no matter what channel she tried. Amaris may not have been an engineer, but she knew a TV with antennas should pick up local news or something just by being plugged in and turned on. At least one channel. To get nothing at all...

Turning the TV off, she frowned. Every time, this place just got more and more wrong. Why have all these consoles and TVs if they didn’t do anything? Unless…

Amaris glanced out the window at the parking lot outside.

Of course. They’re just for show, for the people on the outside to see. She grimaced. Or for kids to be lured in. For… what, though?

Glancing at the clock, she decided it was close enough to breakfast that she should go stand in the entrance hall and wait. She watched the clock and at precisely the same moment as yesterday, the children opened the doors from their rooms and started marching. This time, when they arrived, Amaris made sure to place herself in the front but also perfectly in line with the others. She needed to look good and obedient for what she was about to do.

The children, for their part, adapted her into their pattern without missing a beat.

Ten o’clock arrived, and out came Mrs. Ibis. “Good morning, children.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Ibis!” The children—including Amaris—said in unison, though Amaris didn’t have their perfect timing.

Mrs. Ibis nodded in approval. “There is nothing new to report today, go have your breakfast.”

Amaris shot her hand up before anything else could be done. “Mrs. Ibis!”

Mrs. Ibis didn’t give Amaris the annoyed glare she’d been expecting, but instead only a corked brow. “Yes, what is it, Miss Kelvin?”

“During cleaning, all the things in my room vanished. I don’t know what happened, bu—“

“Miss Kelvin will be joining you all for breakfast shortly, run along,” Mrs. Ibis told the children, looking over Amaris as if she wasn’t even there. “Be sure to save a seat and a bowl for her.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ibis!” The children filed out to follow her orders.

Amaris swallowed hard. “Uh…”

“Into my office.” Mrs. Ibis grabbed Amaris’ hand and dragged her into the office. The room contained a desk, a computer, a bookshelf, a lot of papers stacked in perfect towers, and a cupboard with ornate wooden doors. Notably, the office did not shine from overcleaning like the rest of the orphanage.

As Mrs. Ibis took her seat at the desk, the fireplace behind her burst into flames, surrounding her in an aura even more menacing than usual. She gestured for Amaris to take a seat.

“I am going to be frank with you, Miss Kelvin.”

Amaris nodded. “That’s all right.”

“I ordered them to remove all your things.”

Amaris wanted to scream. “Why?”

“You will find that you have no more need for them here at Miriam’s.” Mrs. Ibis attempted what was probably supposed to be a grin, but it only appeared as a predator’s scowl to Amaris.

“What… happened to my things?”

“Oh, I have them in that cupboard over there. You may have them if your parents come for you.”

Amaris blinked. “…If?”

“Yes. If.” She spoke the word with power, making Amaris shrink back into her chair. “Until then, all such things are effectively contraband. Speaking of that…” She glanced at the shirt visible through the open zipper on Amaris’ jacket. “What is the symbol on that shirt?”

“It’s a math thing,” Amaris said.

“Hmm… permissible. Regardless, all you are permitted to have is the clothes you wear and the jars—and I do expect you to fill those jars, Miss Kelvin.”

“…Why?”

Mrs. Ibis leaned in. “I have no need to explain myself to you.”

Amaris shrunk back immediately. “Y-yes of course, ma’am.”

“It’d be best if you forgot about your things. Run along, go have breakfast.”

Amaris slowly stood up and turned for the door.

“And Miss Kelvin?” Amaris could hear the old woman’s bones creak as she stood up. “It is in your best interests to become used to our ways.”

“O-of course.”

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding. Dismissed.”

Amaris scrambled out of the office and closed the door behind her, breathing so heavily that her lungs started to hurt. She had wanted to reject what Mrs. Ibis was saying. Tell her off to her face, let her know that this was unacceptable. But who was Amaris to do that? She was the kid, Mrs. Ibis was the adult. That was how things were.

With a hard swallow, Amaris stumbled over to the dining room, Mrs. Ibis’ words swirling around her head.

It’s like she’s certain I won’t leave…

~~~

Breakfast passed in a blur. For chores, Amaris opted to stay in the kitchen and wash the bowls rather than repeat yesterday’s series of sweeping and mopping tasks. In the process, she got to see how the oatmeal was made: the oats themselves came in large bags that were already powdered, not quite to the consistency of oat flour, but close enough. From there the other kids poured it into a giant pot that sat over a large stovetop most of the day, curdling like the concoction of some witch’s cauldron. Except instead of producing some kind of magic brew, the only result was white, bland sludge. Amaris was surprised it qualified as a full nutrient. Maybe it was infused with vitamins or something.

She ended up tending the pot of oatmeal since she had no desire to leave the kitchen that day and it was the place the least number of kids passed through—so long as Amaris also polished the tiles and countertops, even if she barely put in any effort, the other kids seemed to decide that she had it all under control and left her alone. Which was completely fine by her.

More time to herself meant more time to think. And as she thought, she made plans. She needed her things, that much was certain. They were somewhere in Mrs. Ibis’ office. It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak in and get them while Mrs. Ibis slept, but the question became what to do afterward. What was the plan? Grab her stuff and run off into the woods? Calling Officer Dawson wouldn’t do anything, he’d just think she was crazy. No, she needed a better idea, she—

Suddenly all the kids were moving into the dining room.

That can’t be right, we just had breakfast… She glanced at the clock. It said four o’clock. What!? I can’t have been in here that long!

Evidentially she had been since the oatmeal was more than hot enough and the children were already passing out bowls. In a bit of a daze, she went into the dining room with her own bowl and sat down, chewing at it while she recovered from the reel of the entire day going away so quickly. She almost expected someone to jump out of the woodwork and tell her it was all a big joke and that it wasn’t really time to eat. But for the whole hour, the other children ate.

When they were done, Amaris made sure to stop at a window on her way back to her room. Sure enough, the sun was nearing the horizon.

“The place is getting to you,” Amaris said, shaking her head. “Nothing ever happens, so it feels like nothing.” She found herself clenching her fists as she walked back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

She knew things happened today. She worked in the kitchen. She felt tired. Very tired. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember much more than the vaguest details. Had she really spent the entire day coming up with… a completely terrible and only half-thought-out plan? She was better than this.

Still… she was a bit tired to do anything tonight about her things, and the bed did look rather inviting…

With a sigh, she admitted she didn’t have a clue on what to do just yet, so it would have to wait. However, she didn’t go to sleep—she purposefully waited for the sun to set before unlatching the window. Tying her sheets up into a small rope again, she climbed out of the orphanage and returned to the tree where Pitch was staying. This time, he was coiled up in the backpack, lazily opening an eye to her return.

“How was your day?” Amaris asked as she checked the heat lamp. It wasn’t as warm as it should have been—the batteries were running low. At least she knew they lasted for a full 24 hours. “My day was… dull. But! I’m making a plan, and that plan is to steal our stuff back from the evil Ibis! …Which I just realized is a bird, and she kinda looks like a bird if you think about it.”

Pitch hissed.

“No, I don’t think she’d taste very good.” Amaris grinned. “And as much as I’d love to see you try, it’s probably best if you don’t bite her.”

Pitch made no response to this.

“Piiiitch, don’t bite people. It won’t do anything but make them mad.”

“Hiss.”

Amaris rolled her eyes. “Well… I’m tired, but let’s play for a bit, I haven’t seen you all day.” She scrambled back to her room and up the sheet rope, taking Pitch with her. With a smirk, she held out a cricket she’d taken from the backpack. “Now, we’re gonna play find the cricket!”

Pitch tilted his head.

“I don’t care if you’re full, we’re a little low on things we can play with, and I don’t want you to accidentally swallow a battery.”

Pitch flicked his tail back and forth.

“Right…” Amaris looked around the room, discovering that there were almost no places to hide the cricket. “…I’m getting really bad at thinking things through.” With a shrug, she walked over to the far corner of the room and picked up the nail jars. Not for their intended use, naturally, but to open up and seal the cricket inside. “Let’s see if snakes are suited to become the dominant species! Open the jar!”

Pitch coiled himself around the lid and made an honest attempt to screw it off, but, as a tiny snake, he had no hope. Afterward, he bore his fangs and smashed his face into the jar, his teeth making a comical plink sound on the glass.

With a sigh, Amaris popped the lid off and threw the cricket to him. He didn’t eat it—he was rather full, at the moment. Instead, he slithered up Amaris’ arm and nuzzled her neck.

“I don’t know, Pitch,” Amaris said with a sigh. “Something’s wrong with this place, but… where would we go?” She frowned. “Just… run a random direction. Find the next town, maybe there’ll be more help there. But they’d find Officer Dawson and, well, he’s nice, but I don’t think I can convince him anything’s wrong here.”

Pitch licked her cheek.

“What’re we going to do?” She asked, looking up at the ceiling with pleading eyes. “I just want to go home…”

Pitch let out a short, reassuring sort of hiss; a hiss that brought a determined smirk to Amaris’ face. “You’re right. We’re in this together, we’ll figure something out. We’ll get our stuff back and… something.” She frowned. “All we have to do is… defy Mrs. Ibis.”

Amaris couldn’t remember the last time she’d defied something an adult said. Complain, whine, perhaps even scream, sure. But adults tended to know better and if they told her to do something it was probably for a good reason. What she was thinking of doing was essentially sneaking into the office, stealing things that Mrs. Ibis thought were hers, and making a break for it.

What if she was caught? Amaris wasn’t even sure she could look at the woman’s face in a normal situation; if she ever became angry…

“Not tonight,” Amaris said, shaking her head. “Definitely not tonight…” She opened up the window and set Pitch on the planter. “Get back to your home. Tomorrow night, we’ll figure something out. I’ll do some scouting, grab some intel… something. And I’ll have a plan of where to go next!”

Pitch tilted his head.

“You’re right, that may be a bit much… but we’ll do something. Got it?”

He hissed before slithering off back to his tree.

Amaris closed the window and flopped into bed, already thinking of possible plans. She didn’t get very far before falling asleep.

~~~

Amaris awoke with a smile on her face. What a pleasant dream.

She put on her shoes and did a few stretches, combing her fingers through her hair in the process. Then she set out, ready to get to the entry hall early once again.

She opened her door the exact same time as every other kid.

Woah. Freaky.

She let all the other kids pass, taking up the rear. Without fully realizing it, she walked in line with them—though not in perfect synch. They arrived at the entry hall, at which point Mrs. Ibis came out of her office.

“Good morning, children.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Ibis!” Amaris called with the others.

Mrs. Ibis nodded in approval. “There is nothing new to report today, go have your breakfast.”

So they did. They ate for an hour and then went to the closet for cleaning supplies. Amaris took the broom today, setting to clean the classroom. The room was never used, but it still needed cleaning. It could never be sparkly enough. Every now and then, she wondered if she’d already cleaned the room, but couldn’t quite put her finger on what parts were already clean. There was no visual cue, so she just shrugged and kept at it. Sweep, sweep, sweep...

Before she knew it, it was time for dinner—and she hadn’t even gotten to mop it yet! Such a shame. However, there was always tomorrow.

With a lazy look on her face, she stumbled back to her room after a filling meal, flopping into her bed. It had been a long day, she deserved this. Rest…

…Rest…

…Plink. Plink. Plink.

The noise came to her in the darkness. Something hard hitting glass. Something close by. Right above her head…

A memory came to her. The memory of a small snake ramming his teeth into a jar.

Oh, it’s just Pitch. Nothing to be concerned about…

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Pitch.

Amaris’ eyes flung open wide. It was dark outside and she was lying on top of her bed in her shoes and jacket, not even under any of the covers. It was raining something fierce outside, but nonetheless, she could hear the unmistakable sound of Pitch’s fangs banging against the window.

In the cold of night. In the rain.

I didn’t put new batteries in the lamp.

Amaris tried to sit up—she could let Pitch in for now and replace the batteries in the morning. However, the motion failed, as if her muscles were replaced with unresponsive meat. She tried to sit up again, but it was as if a weight was placed upon her chest, pinning her to the bed. At first this was no concern—she’d had sleep paralysis before, it was a normal thing that occurred, you just had to push through it. Except… it didn’t go away as she pushed, it kept getting stronger, pushing harder upon her, as though the very mattress were swallowing her up.

Renewing her efforts, she focused on her right arm with a herculean attempt at movement. Fear seized her heart, and with that last push, she shakily brought her arm up to the nightstand. She grabbed onto the wood as tightly as she could and pulled.

It was like pulling herself out of invisible glue. With every inch she moved, the force holding her to the bed gave way little by little, but it left behind a strange feeling of numbness all over her body. Wanting to gasp but unable, she almost let go. Her hand strained, digging into the wood with painful effort. Her head hanging off the bed, she heaved, “come… on… jus—waugh!” She broke free all at once, flying out of the bed and knocking the nightstand over, bonking her head on the floor in the process.

Even though her head was pounding from the impact, she forced herself to stand up with speed, still-present panic streaming through her body. She felt hyper-aware, eyes wide open as she assessed the room. The crashing of the nightstand had knocked over the fingernail jar, and as it rolled she could hear the scratching tumble of fingernails inside. She remembered her distaste for the thing now… why had she started using it? Trembling from an unnatural weakness, she stumbled over and thrust the window open.

There, sitting in the planter, cold, wet, and desperate, was Pitch. Who knew how long he’d been trying to get her attention?

“Oh, Pitch…” She picked him up and held him between both her hands so their heat could raise his body temperature. “I’m so sorry, it… it got the better of me, I don’t even…” She had to wipe her eyes. “Pitch…”

Slowly, he lifted his head to her nose—and touched it with his snout.

Shakily, a smile crawled up Amaris’ face. “Pitch… thank you.” She glanced fearfully at the bed. “You might have just saved my life…”

The bed remained, inviting her to return. To have rest. To sleep those worries away…

“And we’re leaving now!” Amaris said, dropping Pitch into her shirt so he’d have easier access to her body heat. Then she zipped up her jacket and pulled the hood over her head.

Then she jumped out of a second story window and rolled to her feet on the ground, sticking the landing flawlessly.

“…Probably should have been a little smarter about that.” With a shake of her head, she ran into the forest and tore her backpack off the tree, slinging the dearly missed receptacle onto her back. She continued to run, though not deeper into the forest—into the city. If she remembered right, and she almost always did, there was a payphone not too far from the orphanage.

It just so happened that she was right, coming upon a phone box with glass walls. She jumped in… and realized she had no money. Her small collection in the backpack had been taken with the rest of her belongings—would it have worked here anyway? Frantically, she looked around for something on the sidewalk she could use. As her luck would have it, a coin rested in the gutter next to the road, having been swept into a crack in the pavement by the rain.

With an excited jump, she plucked it out of the crack and ran into the payphone, taking her hood off. Her reflection told her she looked like a ragged, crying mess, but she didn’t care. She put the coin in and dialed the only local number she knew.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“C’mon, pick up…”

Click. “Egh… who is this? How did you get my number…?” Officer Dawson’s voice came from the other end.

“Officer Dawson! This… this is Amaris. Something’s very wrong, and I just… I… I don’t know what to do and it’s all so crazy and I just want to go home and I—“

“Hey, hey, calm down, it will all be okay.”

Oh, how Amaris had needed to hear those words. She immediately let out a trembling sigh of relief. “Th-thank you…”

“Now, who is this again?”

Amaris froze. “A-amaris.”

“I’m… afraid I don’t know that name, kid.”

“I...” Amaris hung up, all but slamming the phone back onto its dock. She leaned back against the phone booth’s wall and slowly sat down until she could clutch her knees to her chest. Ready to cry, she hung her head and trembled.

But as the tears came, the scowl upon her face deepened. Her brow knit and her nails dug into her pants like claws until they formed into balls. Once more, she stood up, trembling—but not from weakness. She felt like she had more energy in her body than she’d ever had before.

No, the trembling came from pure, unbridled rage.

Without putting her hood back up, she marched out of the phone booth. Tear streaks marked her cheeks and her twisted hair only got worse in the rain, but she didn’t care anymore. With step after determined step, she marched back to the orphanage.

Pitch poked his head up out of her shirt, hissing in her ear.

“She took him from us,” Amaris said. “She wants to take everything else.” She jumped onto the drain pipe and started climbing up, not overly concerned about the noise it was making. “I’m not going to let her. We are getting our stuff back.”

She hoisted herself into her room. The first thing she did was pick up the fingernail jar and the toenail jar and throw them out the window. A satisfying crunch met her ears. She kept the nail clippers though, placing them in a pocket.

She stood before the door out of her room. Already, a plan came to her. It wasn’t even that complicated of a plan. She should have easily come up with it before. But she’d needed to leave this accursed place to do it.

Whatever was going on here, she knew she couldn’t stay long. Already, the bed was calling to her. Promising her endless rest. Now that she knew, it was obvious, but insidious all the same.

“Screw that,” she muttered under her breath. She ripped the pillow and blankets off the bed, rolling them up into a big bundle, leaving the mattress bare. She used one of the sheets to form a rope and slung it around the back of her backpack, hanging the pillow and blankets off them. These were hers, now.

She opened the door. However, now that she’d gotten some of her anger out of her system, she did so cautiously. There was no sign of anyone in the halls. Perfect. She doubted any of the other kids even heard the commotion anyway; they were all in the thrall of rest. Mrs. Ibis was the only unknown, and Amaris would know about her soon enough.

“Ready, Pitch?” Amaris asked as she pulled the hood over her head to help hide her face.

Pitch hissed in affirmative next to her ear.

“It’s showtime…”

She snuck down the hall and the stairs, coming to the entry hall without incident. Cautiously, she inched toward the door to Mrs. Ibis’ office, pressing her ear to it. There Amaris remained for a full minute, listening for any signs of life, breathing, or even motion. None came. Even the sound of the rain outside began to die away as the storm abated.

As slowly as she could manage, Amaris turned the doorknob. The door had no lock, so her only concern was being quiet. Luckily, the hinges were on the outside, so the children made extra sure to clean them. They turned without a hint of squeaking.

Mrs. Ibis’ office was the same as Amaris remembered it, though it was obviously darker seeing as how the fireplace wasn’t lit. She immediately marched to the cupboard and opened it.

An empty shelf met her eyes and her stomach sank in an instant. However, upon looking up, she noticed the familiar glint of her calculator on the top shelf, shining hope into her emotions. Unfortunately, she was simply too short to reach the top shelf, and she didn’t want to risk trying to climb up the cupboard. She was going to have to get a lift from something.

Carefully, she lifted the wooden chair she had sat in during her meeting with Mrs. Ibis, setting it in front of the cupboard. She climbed onto it with ease, the contents of the top shelf now accessible to her. Slowly, but surely, she reclaimed her things. The notebooks, the calculator, even the golden windup cat. The only objects she recovered that had been altered were the cat-shaped trail mix treats. Someone had opened the bag and sampled from it.

Guess she just couldn’t resist…

As she placed everything back in her backpack, she noticed two things were missing. First, her school ID. Second, the magic mirror handle. For some reason, she was more concerned about the latter’s absence than the former.

Amaris shook her head, slowly stepping down from the chair. She circled around to the back of the desk and started rummaging through its drawers, looking for her ID or the mirror handle. She found neither of those things. What she did find were records, tons of records, about all the children at the orphanage. Every last one of them had names—the redhead Amaris had sat next to was named Jules, for instance. Every last one of them had an “admission” date. However, for the vast majority, there was no “dismissed” date. In fact, the only “dismissed” dates Amaris found were for those who turned eighteen.

She found her file rather easily. There wasn’t much there, though the picture seemed ripped straight from her ID. It mentioned her admittance date and the clause that she was to be released if the police found her parents quickly. Quickly.

Yeah, it had to be quick. Or else the police forget everything.

She was about to stop sifting through files when she found one of a boy admitted six years ago. He had the exact same comment Amaris’ file had: Released if the police found his parents quickly.

Amaris’ eyes widened. I’m not the only one… She’s probably got this down to a science by now.

She put the files back and closed the drawer. No ID, no magic mirror handle. To be fair, she didn’t need either of those things. She had all the information on the ID memorized, and that mirror handle…

She glanced at the fireplace, frowning. She noticed that it was… clean. Too clean. Leaning down a bit, she was able to see that it went much further into the wall than it was supposed to, and it could easily hold a grown human being.

Pitch poked out his head and examined the passage she was looking at.

“We could just leave,” Amaris whispered. “Take our things, run, never look back. We don’t need those other things. There are secrets down that tunnel, Pitch. Probably whatever does all… this. Maybe even Mrs. Ibis. We’d have to confront her if we went down there.”

Pitch nodded in confirmation.

“So let’s just…” Amaris slowly stood up and walked to the door. “Leave…”

She put her hand on the doorknob, ready to close it. But something stopped her. The thought of that boy in the file who had been stolen from his parents, trapped here for six years wouldn’t leave her mind. Why did she care about him? She didn’t even know him, or any of these kids.

The face of her mother came to her, smiling warmly.

Merely the thought of her face was enough to get Amaris to let out a dejected sigh. “Mom would help them.” She turned back to face the fireplace. “Or, at the very least, she’d try.” She grabbed the backpack’s straps and dropped to the ground, crawling through the fireplace passage. To her mild surprise, it sloped downward rather than going straight, taking her along a stone pathway deeper and deeper into the darkness.

She regretted not taking out her flashlight but didn’t want to bother digging for it now. She continued forward, inching along like a worm, trying her best to do so quietly. Soon, she was able to make out the sound of something bubbling, perhaps a stew of some sort, accompanied by a whiff of some truly disgusting smells she’d only encountered before in old outhouses. The visual stimulus came last—a soft green glow at the end of the passage.

As she forged on, other sounds came to her. Footsteps—going away from her position, fortunately. The clinking of jars. Disgusting squelching. Then, a half-whispered, ominous chant.

“Dark eyes that are not mine,

You look upon this child so fine,

O you, great treacherous curse,

Empower my spell through this verse.”

At this point, Amaris reached the end of the pathway and came out into the basement—though it looked more like a cave than a proper basement. The floor was uneven stone, the walls weren’t flat, and stalactites hung from the ceiling. Rickety shelves composed of rotting wood and rusted metal held hundreds of jars filled with fecal matter, urine, nail clippings, odd plants, and other disturbing things. One jar even seemed to hold a cloud of pure darkness within it. There were a few tables in between the shelves, holding various tools, a couple of stone tablets, and a green crystal ball on top of which rested Amaris’ ID. The card itself was glowing a soft blue.

The center of the room, however, took the cake. Mrs. Ibis stood with her back to Amaris, waving her hands over a massive black cauldron bubbling with a frothing blue-white mixture. While everything else in the room screamed witch at the top of its lungs, Mrs. Ibis herself appeared as she normally did, with her smooth white clothing and aging body.

Mrs. Ibis held the magic mirror in her hand. Lifting it up high, she plucked out one of the gemstones from its hilt and dropped it into the brew, prompting it to spark pink.

“Broken relic from beyond the veil,

Bring an end to the girl’s tale,

Give the curse inside to me,

And truly happy thou shall be.”

Amaris wasn’t entirely sure what the bubbling cauldron was supposed to do, but she knew it wasn’t good. Maybe she could mess it up… and it might free the children? She doubted it, the words sounded like they were talking about just Amaris. Probably trying to condition her like the others.

Still… what else was she going to do? Turn back and run away? She was down here now, she needed to do something.

Carefully, Amaris stood up and tip-toed over to the closest shelf, grabbing hold of the nastiest looking thing she could—the jar of pure darkness. She pulled back her arm and put on the cockiest smirk she could manage.

She threw it right into the cauldron. Jar and all were consumed by the bubbling brew.

Mrs. Ibis’ head jerked back further than any human head should have been able while the rest of her body remained perfectly stationary. “Miss Kelvin… you should be asleep.”

Amaris picked up a jar of feces from the shelf and aimed it at Mrs. Ibis. “D-don’t think I won’t!”

Mrs. Ibis backed away, circling around the cauldron slowly as its bubbles began to shift through all the colors of the rainbow. “I know you will, Miss Kelvin. That curse of yours really does have a few unpleasant side-effects.”

“Yeah, uh, well, I don’t care!” Amaris tried to replicate her cocky smirk from earlier and failed spectacularly. “I just… want all of this to stop!”

“What do you think you’re going to do?” Mrs. Ibis continued to walk around the cauldron, putting distance between her and Amaris. “The children are mine, Miss Kelvin. All their energy and drive are mine to consume. Stopping your spell will not change that.” A large bubble popped, sending a burst of blue fire into the air. “You should have left while you had the chance.”

Amaris glared. “I…”

With a swift motion, Mrs. Ibis picked Amaris’ ID card off the crystal ball she’d been nearing this entire time, pointing it right at her. Immediately, Amaris felt all her energy drain away. Her knees gave out and she collapsed, pressing her palms into the floor with a gasp. She felt like she weighed ten times more than usual, as if merely holding herself up was in danger of shattering a bone.

“No one ever leaves Miriam’s,” Mrs. Ibis said, walking closer, careful to continually point the glowing ID card at Amaris. “Not even those who get too old. They just… get used in a different way.”

“M-monster…”

“You would know a thing or two about monsters, wouldn’t you?” With her other hand, she held up the mirror. “You and I are going to have a long discussion about this item when this is over… Its power is astounding, a—“ Her eyes widened as she noticed Pitch slithering up to her ankle, fangs bared. With a swift kick, the snake was sent flying, landing on the ground just behind Amaris.

“P-pitch…”

“Ah, a loyal pet.” Mrs. Ibis glared at the snake in disgust. “That explains why you’ve been so resistant. And here I thought it was that curse of yours.” She leaned down, sneering at Amaris. “Your snake won’t save you this time.”

Amaris only trembled in response.

“Now, it’s time to go back to your home, Miss Kelvin.” Mrs. Ibis lifted Amaris’ chin with the ID card, forcing her to make eye contact. “Where every day will pass in a blur… and you won’t even bother to remember who you were before. A special bliss.”

Amaris opened her mouth, but no noise came out.

A bubble burst behind Mrs. Ibis, illuminating her sneer in a haunting green. “See that? You can’t defy me. None of you ca—“

Amaris bit down on the ID card and wrenched it out of Mrs. Ibis’ hand. Immediately, the weight was taken from Amaris’ body and she leaped back, taking up a defensive posture over Pitch. She tore the ID card out of her mouth and pointed it at Mrs. Ibis, shaking.

Mrs. Ibis blinked. “Miss Kelvin, what exactly do you think pointing a plastic rectangle at me is going to accomplish?”

“…Something?”

The woman glowered. “Sorry to disappoint you. Now, give it b—“

“No,” Amaris said, taking a jar of fecal matter off the shelf. “W-we wont’ be doing th—“

Mrs. Ibis charged forward, shrieking like a banshee. Amaris panicked, grabbing onto the metal supports of the closest shelf and pulling as hard as she could. Since she had grabbed onto the edge, the shelf fell past her, but it hit Mrs. Ibis square in the head. With a decidedly pathetic squeal, Mrs. Ibis fell back as the jars shattered all over her, covering her in that which she had methodically harvested from her children.

Mrs. Ibis could do nothing more than squeal further, as her senses were overloaded with pain, noxious fumes, and intolerable textures. The cauldron let out a massive burst of flame that increased the temperature in the room considerably—and its reactions only looked to be getting more violent.

Amaris decided it was time to leave. She picked up Pitch with her foot, allowing him to slither up the rest of the way on his own. She ran around the edge of the room, avoiding most of the massive spill she had dumped on Mrs. Ibis. She paused a short way from the fireplace passage—the magic mirror was sitting on the ground, covered in grime. Mrs. Ibis must have dropped it.

Without thinking too hard about sanitation problems, Amaris swiped the mirror and scrambled to the passageway, leaving the pained cries of Mrs. Ibis behind. Her crawling was hindered as everything started to shake—an earthquake?

Mrs. Ibis finally managed to let out a coherent sentence through her screams. “What did you put in there!?”

Oh. Amaris tried to climb out faster, but she was already scrambling as fast as she could.

The explosion was massive, but it contained no light. The shockwave was of pure darkness, momentarily blinding Amaris as she was ejected out of the fireplace and into the office. She flopped head over foot through the air, pivoting on the desk and tipping it over with the force of her impact, the result being her landing unceremoniously on her rear where the chair would have been had she not moved it earlier.

The darkness in her eyes receded. She checked to make sure Pitch was still on her —he was, coiled tightly onto her thigh for dear life. With his safety confirmed, Amaris continued running, barreling out of the office and out the front doors of the orphanage. Only then did she turn around and look back.

To her shock, the explosion was still visible. From somewhere behind the orphanage a column of pure darkness was continually erupting, blotting out the stars in a streak that seemed to go up for infinity. Already she could hear city sirens going off.

The sound that brought a smile to her face, though, were the panicked screams. Not of Mrs. Ibis—she wasn’t thinking about the woman at all right now—but the screams of the children.

Children who ran out of the orphanage en-masse in a panic. A real panic, complete with tears, shouts, shoving, and terror. In other words, expressions all far removed from silent, dead smiles.

They were free.

The dark column dissipated, returning the sky to its former, starry glory. This left Amaris to realize that she had no idea what to do with a ton of children who had just spent an unknown amount of time under the witch’s spell. She began to run through ideas, finding nothing that would actually help calm the kids down.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to come up with a plan. For that was when the police started arriving.

~~~

Officer Dawson looked down at the stretcher with the old woman in it. Her hair had all been burnt off and one of her eyes wasn’t looking in the right direction, not to mention the strange darkness that seemed to cling to her. She spoke to him with a wavering, scratchy voice. “You… can you… who am I?”

“I don’t know, miss,” Officer Dawson said. “The… records show this place was run by a Mrs. Ourbisha Ibis. Is… that you?”

“I… don’t know…” She tried to cough, but the motion was weak. “Why is it so hard to see?”

Officer Dawson looked back over his shoulder at the crater in the ground, brimming with a strange black tar. It was the most unnatural and terrifying thing he had ever seen. “I have no idea.”

“Oh…”

She was lifted up and carried into an ambulance, which sped away without another word.

“Hey, officer?”

Officer Dawson looked down to see a girl in a jacket that seemed oddly familiar to him. A small snake rested, half-wrapped around her neck.

“Uh… yes, kid?”

The girl pointed at the group of kids. “Some of them think their parents might still be alive. Mrs. Ibis never believed them, but… David, Aria, and Yvenne might need your help finding them.”

Officer Dawson leaned down, smiling at her. “Thank you for telling me, kid. You one of those kids?”

She smiled sadly. “I’m not David, Aria, or Yvenne.”

Officer Dawson couldn’t help but smile. “Then what’s your name?”

“Amaris. Amaris Kelvin.” She held out her hand to shake his. With a slight chuckle, he met her gesture.

“Officer Dawson.”

“I know.”

He tilted his head. “You do?”

She raised an eyebrow and pointed at the name on his uniform.

“Oh, right.” He let out a sad laugh. “Sorry, Amaris, it’s been a long night. But don’t you worry, we’re going to get you all taken care of.”

“I know you will.” She gave him one of the purest smiles ever. It made him wish he had kids. This entire situation did.

“…Anything else I can help you with?”

The sadness that came to Amaris’ eyes broke his heart. “No… no, I don’t think so.”

“Kid, I—“

“I should let you get back to work.” She waved at him, turning back to the other kids, her utterly stuffed backpack making her stumble as she rotated.

Officer Dawson adjusted his cap with one hand and waved at her with another. “Just holler if you…” He didn’t finish the sentence—she had already rejoined the others.

Something about that girl…

With a shake of his head, he turned back to his work. He had about a hundred kids to keep track of; he shouldn’t fixate on just one unusual one.

~~~

Amaris stood at the edge of a tree, looking at all the police cars and lights surrounding the orphanage. She watched as the kids were lined up and taken into the cars—to be taken somewhere safe, away from all this.

“Well, that’s that.” Amaris tightened her grip on the backpack straps and turned deeper into the forest. “Time to get moving.”

Pitch poked his head out of her hood and glanced back at the police cars.

“He already tried to help us, Pitch. I think we’re a lot further from home than we realize.”

Pitch hissed.

“…And I don’t want him involved in… whatever it is this ‘curse’ does.” May your life be interesting. “We should just… set out, and find things out on our own. I don’t want to be traceable if that witch ever gets her memory back.”

Pitch turned his head forward, to the forest.

“Yep. Forest. Great way to go off the grid.”

He hissed at her.

“Can’t get lost if we don’t know where we’re going!” She laughed at her joke, but the laugh soon died out, replaced with a tired sigh. “We go until we find another town or city or something. Then… we figure out what to do ourselves. Whatever’s happening, we can’t rely on adults to figure it out for us.”

Pitch slithered back into the backpack enclosure.

“Yes, I know you’re technically an adult…” Amaris shook her head. “Doesn’t matter right now. What matters… is this forest.”

And so girl and snake continued onward, getting further and further from civilization with every step. Their way was lit by the brilliance of the full moon, and their path secured by Amaris’ belief that she could walk perfectly straight.

She was not correct in this assessment, though virtually nothing would have changed if she were.