New Orleans. 11:47 PM. The air heavy with humidity and the distant wail of a jazz trumpet.
The upstairs loft of a worn-down Creole townhouse glowed with string lights and cheap red wine. Three girls lounged across a mismatched collection of thrifted furniture.
Anastasia Petrova
kicks her booted feet up onto the coffee table, glass of wine balanced on her knee So we’re agreed. This is the best decision we’ve ever made.
Ameila Jackson
grinning, swirling her drink Moving to the city where daddy’s ghost probably haunts the cemetery? Yeah, best idea ever.
Addison Foster
from the floor, sprawled on the carpet, tracing patterns in the dust with her finger I mean… we did just kill three dads and run away from home. What's one haunted cemetery between sisters?
Anastasia Petrova
raises her glass, eyes gleaming To new beginnings.
A meIJa
clinks her glass against Ana’s, the sound ringing sharp And to never looking back.
Addison
smirks, closing her eyes Or ever talking about it again.
There was a pause. Not heavy, just quiet. A shared breath of understanding.
The floorboards creaked under the slow hush of a ceiling fan. Outside, the distant laughter of a Bourbon Street crowd drifted in like a bad secret.
Anastasia
softly, eyes dropping to her wine Tomorrow, we get to just be. Nobody watching. Nobody telling us what we are.
A-Zelia
snorts, leaning back Yeah. Until someone finds the bodies.
Addison
opens one eye Or until someone notices the fire.
Silence.
Addison
sits up, fingers snap sizzling, a small flame dancing in her palm It’s cool. We’re fine. The flame dies. Just… fun times.
A-?
Narrator A distant shatter—a bottle breaking somewhere nearby. Then another.
Anastasia
sets her glass down slowly, listening, eyes sharpening That’s not thunder.
Amelia
tilts head, gaze flicking to the window The street’s alarm went off.
Addison
to her feet, fingertips already glowing orange I’ll check.
She pushes off the floor and pads across the floor, her bare feet silent. She pressed her face to the cracked window, watching dark shapes move in the alley below.
Addison
turns, voice dropping Uh. Guys.
Anastasia
doesn’t stand, but all warmth in her voice has vanished What did you see?
Addison
eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper A man in black. Just… watching the house. He knows we're here.
Amelia
smiles slowly, setting her drink aside Did he now?
Narration
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