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Lost and Generally Fucked

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"But for now, this case remains...Unsolved."

The dramatic, eerie music played as the end card flashed onto the screen. Instead of being replaced with the next video, my phone displayed only the paused ending of the black screen, and in its depths, my reflection stared back at me.

Ew. Everything looks so much greasier from this angle.

With a sigh, I turned my phone around and opened up the internet browser.

I had stuff I needed to do but... the lure of Buzzfeed Unsolved was too strong. Now that it's too late to do anything, I suppose a simple quiz wouldn't hurt.

After five minutes of specific searching for the random quiz I want to do, I find the one that appeals to me most at this moment; 'Everyone Has A Spread Of Tarot Cards Based On Their Film Choices – Here's Yours'.

The cards revealed themselves to me after answering which tv show I was interested in as the final question. House of Cards hadn't appealed, I'd seen American Horror Story, Teen Wolf had finished, and so the only option left to pick was that Supernatural show that I didn't want to bother with because it was so long.

On the left was the past, in the middle - the present, and on the right - the future.

Of course, I'm the fucker who gets the fool as their present. The three of wands barely captured my notice from its position on the left of the card that mocked me with it's smug painted grin. The Magician on the right meant nothing to me.

Bored of this, I decided to get up, slipping out of bed and swinging my feet onto the floor. I cringed at the floor under my feet, freezing compared to the trapped warmth of my bed.

Flicking my foot, I caught the edge of one trainer with my toe and dragged it close enough that I could slide my foot inside it. The other followed.

Tying them took me a few seconds, followed by the flail to re-capture my phone before it plummeted to its demise.

Phone in my hand anyway, I began to look up the meanings of the cards as I made my way to the fridge.

The upside-down three of wands was the easiest to search for, making me less pissed about the Fool card, less pissed about being hungry, and generally just interested.

The most common meaning of the Three of Wands reversed meaning is a nudge to include planning for future changes...

Reaching the fridge, I closed the browser for a moment so I could peer inside. Door open, nothing inside, I closed the door and opened up my phone to continue reading.

The Magician... blah blah... blah... means potential. Paired with the Fool, the Magician presents a new beginning-

"Tonight-" the advert began, flashing on-screen with the logo of that Supernatural show.

Fucking ads. I tried to close the browser.

"Everything-" Why isn't it closing?


Suddenly, I felt something I couldn't see grab me by the throat, and I could see nothing. Yet as my sight faded, I could see the faint blue glow from my phone which I seemed to clench in my hand as the thing constricted tighter, squeezing me as if it was attempting to shove a wrong key into a door.

I barely noticed that as I felt my knees given out and I tipped forward, my phone had dropped from my grasp.

My back had stuck itself to the wood supporting me in the slumped sitting position I blinked myself awake to, a paper slapping me full-on in the face. The bench I was sat on overlooked just a lot of grass, lit by an obnoxious lamp glaring overhead at me like a stern condescending online man towering over me.

The newspaper on my face was soon dropped to the floor at the shrill screech ripping through the night's air, a howl smothering it's rustling as it turned over and almost began to run away from me.

Launching myself after it, I grabbed onto the lifeline as I shakily pulled myself up to stand, almost swaying when my eyes caught sight of the main headline; 


I can't even tell anyone that I'm a... time traveller?-

The howl pierced the air again, but it didn't sound like a whistle, and no flurry of freezing swords swept through the air around me. Instead, the air behind me was oddly warm.

It grew warmer.

And warmer.

Slowly, I turned my head, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gnashing jaws of the inhuman maw.


Scrambling backwards, a scream petrified within me, I clenched the paper uselessly in my fists as I dived away from the creature, my feet beating the ground below me.

The light guided me, glowering down upon the road I hurried over as if I would be stupid enough to hide in the woods.

As it grew nearer, I tried to weave my way down the path but tripped on my shoelace, which had become untucked.

Rolling over, the roar split the air around me before it crouched and it never released.

Instead, it's body collapsed to the ground, wriggling and squirming as if it could dislodge the silver arrow sticking out of it's back.

Footsteps began to ring out into the cold, and I caught my gaze on the woman dressed in shadows.

Like a goddess made of bronze, she approached closer with her cloud-like hair barely hiding the sneer of contempt on her face as she approached the beast and raised a gloved hand, holding a crossbow which she promptly loaded with another silver arrow, and aiming at the beasts head.

On the first shot, it twitched again like it had been kicked.

On the second, it stopped entirely.

On the third, a stream of blood trickled down the road and began to lick at the tips of my trainers.

"Oh fuck that. Fuck that entirely-"

I woke up in bed.

Not my bed, the bed I had left to venture to the fridge. It was just a bed with plain white covers, a stark contrast to the beige sheets on the messily made bed on the right of me with a bin at the end of it, and no extra decorations around it.

Well, except one; a single letter settled on my chest that slipped onto my lap as I sat up.


Great, a stalker.

You mumbled your name and your entire life story when I put you in the back of my truck and brought you to your possible new home.

My name is Loretta Kacela, and we met last night.  I'm looking for an apprentice, or at least someone to train so that when I retire, I know someone is doing good work rather than just the paperwork for it, and I would rather it be someone of my choosing than one sent to me. And that someone is you.

I almost baulked at it, preparing to scrunch up the sheet until my eyes caught the next line.

And before you reject my offer, think on this correctly; you have nowhere else to go. You have no ID for this time, and from what I've discovered, you have no way of obtaining any because there a re no records on you anywhere.

This way, you'll have a place to sleep, a way to earn money to eat, and a chance at an education. Maybe even a chance to be normal with your roommate (who isn't to be told anything).

I'll call upon you when I need you,


I scrunched the paper up anyway, chucking it into the open bin in the mostly bare room as I stood up.

Stretching, I began to make my way out of the room to see the rest of the world I seemed to have wound up in when I heard the door creak open, a bag being dropped on the floor with a light thump.

The guy standing in the doorway was tall, with a strong jaw, a middle part in his chestnut hair, with a simple green hoodie on. His eyes were wide as if he hadn't expected me.

Behind him stood a girl with fiery red hair, green eyes wide open, and something flicked across her jaw... is that paint?

"Hey." That's all you can come up with?

 "...Uh, hey. You're my new roommate. I'm Sam." He shifted his weight.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you." I peered around him at the girl standing there in silence, waiting for her to introduce herself.

Sam looked back over his shoulder before turning back to me slowly and asking, "What are you looking at?"

As Sam moved out of the way, I finally saw the mystery woman in whole.

The crimson splatters on her face were so fresh and wet, bleeding into a thick gash that wrapped around her throat like a scarf, the ragged ends of which tangled in the burgundy sweatshirt she wore. It must have been the same one Sam was wearing only his was rumpled as if he had just rolled out of bed, hers was rumpled and torn. Blood soaked almost every inch of her skin, dripping from the most significant tear, one that dissected her torso from her hips and spilt into her awaiting hands.

I averted my eyes, catching the wound in her neck that seemed too fresh and yet still-



"Are you okay?"

No. No, I'm not, I'm going mad. I'm seeing dead women and werewolves and women with crossbows and so much blood- "Yeah, I'm fine... Sorry, I'm a little out of it. Jet lag, you know?" I felt my lips quirk up awkwardly like someone had grabbed the side of my face and yanked.

He smiled back at me, a small, little nervous quirk which was probably a reflection of my own.

In a way, it was reassuring. This kind boy was someone who would probably be stuck with me for a while.

On the other hand, if the dead woman (who was still there!) was a sign, things were only going to get worse from here.