---

MARA

“Mara? Mara?! Where’d you go!?” 

Mom’s voice pierced directly through the silence. I turned around to give her one of my signature eye-rolls. Really if she was going to freak out at every step I took she should have just let me stay home. When I turned around, ready to tell her as much, I froze. She stood right in front of me, but it was like she wasn’t even looking at me but past me. 

That was strange, I could actually see her eyes which doesn’t make any sense because it’s like 9 pm right now with no working street lights on this block. Yet I can see her as clear as day. Literally there’s a sphere of light that seems to be growing around us and expanding into the rest of the house. As it goes, it’s changing the house itself. Instead of the dark, dusty, overgrown-with-mold house that we walked into not ten minutes ago, I’m now seeing bright patterned wallpaper, plush thick carpeting beneath my boots, and the sun shining through the once broken and rusted window panes. 

“Mom, are you seeing this? This is crazy! Do you know what’s going on? What are we supposed to do now? Mom. Mom?” I turn back from gawking at the changing space and look to see what she’s thinking. But she’s not there! Or at least she’s almost not. She’s fading away like a picture being erased. 

Time to freak out now. 

---

2 Hours Earlier  

“What do you mean we have another job to work? Didn’t we just finish our other one? And wasn’t it you who said ‘we need to have sufficient rest between each job in order to operate at our full potential?’ ” 

I did my best impression of her; I knew she always hated when I did that. I hate it when she introduces a new job without giving me fair enough warning and she knows that; it just makes us even now. 

“Wow, it’s like we’re working women or something, huh?” I see the smirk she’s pointedly not trying to hide as she pushes past me through the front door. 

“Mom!” It’s a borderline whining sound and I follow right behind as she walks to the back of our van to check the equipment, “You said that I’d have tonight free. That I could go hang out with Symone’n’them. This is MY night. You can’t go back on your word now, it shows poor character and sloppy parenting.” 

I knew I was grasping at straws, but I was looking forward to a simple night off with my friends. I barely got to see them since our line of work requires nights free and during the day I’m basically a zombie. (NOTE TO SELF: RESEARCH TO SEE IF ZOMBIES ARE ACTUALLY REAL) 

“Mara.” 

Irritation laced Mom’s voice while she was bent over packing the gear into our ‘go-bags’ and her locs fell into her line of sight. I couldn’t tell if the irritation was directed at me or her hair. I told her all the time that one of these days she’d get them caught on something they were so long. She still refused to cut them, saying she had a personal goal of growing them until she died. They were already down past the middle of her back nearing her butt. They were gorgeous for sure, she liked to add silver adornments to them whenever she could. With our line of work though…it was simply a matter of time before they’d get her into real trouble. 

She looked back up at me, swiping the red-brown locs away from her face so we could make proper eye-contact. She gave a sigh that told me this conversation would be short and bitter with zero room to counter. 

“Mara, I know tonight is special for you and if it was any other client I would have done my best to find a workaround. But this is for “the” Johnsons and you know how they are, and how they can be. If I’d turned them down there would be….long-lasting repercussions.” 

I gave my own sigh and placed my hands in my back pockets as a sign of resignation. 

“I know, I know. We’re expected to drop everything whenever they call, no questions asked. But did they have to call tonight?!” 

The whining was back in my voice, of which I was not proud, but this time I didn’t really care. Mom straightened back up to look directly at me, placed her hands on my shoulders, gave me her signature smirk that she had been perfecting over the years, and we had one of our silent conversations. I know this sucks but thank you for going along with it anyway. I placed both my hands on top of hers, squeezed, and gave my own smirk. You’re going to owe me BIGTIME! 

---

Kleo

“Mara? Mara?! Where’d you go!?” 

Kleo brings up her flashlight to get a better look at the hallway where Mara was just a minute ago. What in the world? She was just here. She sweeps her flashlight back and forth, up and down, making sure to get a clear enough picture of the space in front of her. 

“Mom. Mom?” 

The voice sounds like it’s nearby but also muffled. Like there’s some type of static interference. Kleo sweeps her flashlight across the hallway again when the light moves over Mara, but it’s like she’s not in focus. She’s fading in and out as though a picture on an old TV screen. 

“MARA! CAN YOU HEAR ME BABY?” 

Mara’s mouth moves but no sound comes out this time. 

“Don’t worry baby! We’re going to fix this. You hear me? You’re going to be okay!”  

That’s all Kleo can get out before Mara completely disappears. Kleo gets her phone out and dials the only number she knows that will answer in three rings or less.  

---

Mara

Mom pulls out her phone to call someone, if it’s who I think it is then it’s worse than I’d thought if she’s desperate enough to wake up Donnie. I can’t hear her but I can still see how she’s talking on the phone and gesturing in my direction. The anxiety and desperation on her face is clear, but she’s not. Her image keeps fading in and out like we have a bad internet connection. She looks in my direction one last time before she completely phases out and I can’t see her anymore. I know it’s going to take about 30 minutes for Donnie to get out of bed, get himself together, and get to us from all the way across town. I might as well take that time to try and get a handle on my situation. I turn around and actually take in my surroundings for the first time. 

That weird sphere of light from earlier seems to have finished its job in changing everything it touched. As I look around I can see nothing that would give me the impression this house was abandoned at all. I’m standing in the middle of a hallway with wood panels going up the outside of some stairs that (I assume) lead to the second floor. The hallway connects the foyer to the rest of the house and I can now see that the thick rug I’m currently ruining with my muddy boots is a beautiful dark brown. There’s a hall table made of red oak to my left; mail, keys, and other random stuff are scattered across its top. Behind me outside I can hear cars honking, people talking, and dogs barking. Stranger still. It seems that not only is the house different, but the outside is too? I’m not sure what to do next. I seemingly only have two options: sit tight and wait for mom and Donnie, or explore as much as I can to try and figure out how to get back home. 

Before I can actually make a decision, I hear footsteps charging down the stairs in quick succession and flatten myself against the side of the stairs, not seeing anywhere else to hide at the moment. A male voice shouts, 

“HONEY! Have you seen my keys? I can’t seem to remember where I left them and I’m late for my meeting with Mr. Miller and the executive board.” 

The reply comes from the direction of the kitchen at the other end of the hallway in front of me. 

“They should be on the hallway table where you left them last night, dear.” 

His wife (I’m assuming) replied with exasperation and resignation etched in her voice and I had a feeling this exact conversation happens multiple times a week. 

“No! I’ve already looked there after breakfast. I distinctly remember not seeing the-”

The male voice had gotten to the bottom of the stairs while talking and had now rounded the corner, hallway in clear view. I turned my head to see who it belonged to. The sun was shining in a way where it cast a shadow in my exact hiding spot as long as I stayed flattened against the wall. I see a really tall, dark-skinned man wearing a black suit and black thick-rimmed glasses. Whoever his barber is knew how to do a proper fade; his edges were lined up immaculately! The man had a briefcase in one hand and his overcoat in the other. 

“I found them! They’re on the table just as you said.” 

He kept walking down the hallway and I knew he’d see me eventually. I stood frozen, not knowing what to do. He reached the table and grabbed his keys and gave a sigh as he shook his head. 

“What would I do without that woman?” he said to himself. 

He finally turned around, and I stopped breathing. He was looking directly at me now, squinting his eyes to see better. 

“Cynthia! Come take a look at this!” 

“What’s wrong honey?” 

“I’m not sure, just come’ere.” 

He slowly walked towards me with his eyes still squinting to see into the shadows. I stayed frozen and flat against the wall. Hoping, by some miracle, he was simply admiring the wood paneling. He gets close enough to where I can smell his cologne that reminds me of my Grandpa. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away, bracing myself for the onslaught of questions and confused explanations about to commence. 

“What is it, Quincy? You’re definitely gonna be late for work now.” 

“Just take a look at this.” 

The wife’s voice is now right beside her husband’s and I am feeling queasy. I dare to open my eyes to face my fate. I open them and see we’re all face-to-face. 

They’re not looking at me, though. I mean, they are looking at me but…. They’re both staring at the same spot where my torso’s at, they just don’t seem to see me. Instead they’re looking right through me at the wall. I’m still frozen, looking into the eyes of two strangers who seem to not even know I’m right in front of them!. 

“Yep, that’s a water stain. There may be a leaking pipe here.” The husband (Quincy I think) says with annoyance. 

“I’ll have to take a better look at it when I get home tonight.” 

“Do you think we’ll need a plumber to fix it? How long do you think it’ll take? We have that dinner party next week with the Masons. I’d hate to have to cancel on them before they leave town for vacation.” Her voice became more frantic as she went on, “We’ve already canceled on them once. We can’t cancel on them twice. How would they take it? What would that make us look like?!” 

The husband turns to her and places his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. I feel awkward intruding on such a private moment, but there’s nothing I can do but watch and try not to make any noise. I know they can’t see me. But I don’t know the rules of this to be sure they can’t hear me. 

“Cynthia, I don’t even know if it’s even a leaking pipe. I have to take a better look at it first before we start makin’ up possible scenarios. Okay?” 

He smiles at her and she returns it, taking some deep breaths to calm herself down even further. He squeezes her shoulders and rubs them up and down as he kisses her forehead and whispers to her. 

“We’re gon’ be alright. Okay? We’re gon’ make it through this.” His voice dipped into a slight Southern drawl as he comforted her and I got the impression that he wasn’t just talking about the water stain. 

Before I could think about that further, the husband reached out his hands towards the water stain to touch it. That wouldn’t be so alarming if it wasn’t for the fact that his hand went right through my stomach to touch the wall. I look down at this stranger’s hand in my torso! 

“See, it’s not even that big. I’ll look at it after work and we’ll come up with a plan like we always do.” 

He smiles back at her as he pulls his hand away from the wall (my stomach) and gives her a kiss on the cheek before putting on his hat. She grins and helps him put his coat on and hands him his briefcase. 

“Like we always do. Good luck with your meeting honey, don’t let Darius take all the credit like he tends to do.” She gives him her own kiss on his cheek and squeezes his arm. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He gave a great big grin before he turned to walk out the door. 

Both me and the wife watched as the door closed and there was a beat with both of us standing there, neither of us knowing what to do next. That is until she turns to stare directly at me and says in a thick southern accent.

 “Alright now, I don’ know how ya came ta’ be here. But you best be gettin’ back!”