Day Ten - Angie

Without thinking, Abigail reached her arm through the hole and frantically swung her arm around, hoping to grab the gnome. She could hear the gnome laugh and felt something move at her fingertips. She pulled her arm out and stuck her face as far into the hole as she could. She was nose-to-nose with the gnome, who was smiling and staring straight into her eyes.

“Where did you get this?”, the gnome moved back, inspecting the amulet, “Oh, where are my manners…”

The gnome gave a nod and the hole slowly grew to an Abigail-sized opening, which she quickly leapt through.

Amethyst lined the floor, the roof, and was scattered around the ground… this was an amethyst cache. A gnome amethyst cache. Light played off each gem, bouncing beautiful beams in every direction. Despite the circumstances, Abigail felt a sense of calm wash over her. The gnome was a bit taller than other gnomes Abigail had come across, only about a foot shorter than she. She noticed that the gnome wasn’t wearing a hat, which was odd.

“I’m called Kompis.” Kompis bounced from one foot to the other, as if doing a jig. With each hop, a question- “Who are you? How did you get here? Where did you get this?”

Abigail thought for a moment on the best way to answer the questions. Kompis’ thick, dirty fingers ran over the amulet as though they were seeking answers in braille. Out of the corner of her eye, Abigail spotted the gnome’s pointy purple hat sitting on what looked like a wooden crate.

“Abigail. The swamp. My father.” Not knowing if her answers were going to result in getting the amulet, Abigail very slowly moved herself toward the crate, keeping her back to it.

“Ehhhh… Charles is your father? You’re *the* Abbey!” Kompis’ eyes grew large, mouth agape- as though being Charles’ daughter was more fantastic than anything else that was happening in the moment.

If there was a name to call Abigail to send her into a quiet rage, it was Abbey. There was only one person in the world that called her Abbey, and he was gone.

“My.. name.. is.. Abigail!” she said slowly and sternly, as to not allow anger to over take her, measuring the amount of emphasis on each word in an attempt to sound calm. Emotions fought to take over, she could feel both tears of sadness and tears of anger welling up in her eyes. She sat on the crate, the hat was now directly behind her. She saw Kompis’ expression go from amazement to compassion. This was something she could work with.

“How do you know my father?”

“Oh, ho- Charles saved my life. He saved all our lives. He’s still saving our lives. Don’t you know? Are you sure you’re the Abbey? How do you not know?” Kompis sat on the ground before her, rolling the amulet between his fingers, alternating between holding it close to his eyes and holding it at arm’s length and squinting to look at it with one eye.

“Abigail. Please call me Abigail. Only my father can call me Abbey. Please, may I have that back?” Abigail reached her hand behind her, grasping the brim of the gnome hat between her fingers.

Kompis picked up a large piece of amethyst by his foot. “May I interest you in trading this for this?” Kompis held the amulet in one hand and the piece of amethyst in the other. Exactly what Abigail expected.

“Hmmm.. may I look at that?” Abigail said, pointing to the piece of amethyst. With her free hand, she reached down and took the piece of amethyst.

“This is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous!” Abigail said, closely inspecting the purple shard. She could see light twinkling from inside the shard. “Yes, perhaps we should trade.” Abigail tucked the twinkling shard into her pocket.

Kompis looked shocked, he wasn’t expecting that at all, and Abigail could tell. A slight grin curled her lips.

“Oh me, this is wonderful. Do you have anything else to trade? I have many many gems!” Kompis excitedly raked in gems around him on the ground.

“Yes, let’s trade!” Abigail pulled the gnome hat out from behind her and held it in front of Kompis.

Kompis’ face shifted from excitement to concern.

“That’s MY HAT! That’s my tribal hat, I NEED that hat.” Kompis jumped to his feet, clumsily attempting to grab the hat. Abigail held the hat over him, just out of his reach. Realizing the situation, Kompis surrendered the amulet to Abigail. Abigail handed him his hat.

“I like trading.” Abigail said with a smile.

“You *are* the Abbey, er Abigail. Your father talks about you all the time. We all know the Abbey, ehhh, Abigail.” Kompis said with a laugh, fixing his hat back on his head.

“Talks. You say that like he’s still talking.” Abigail cocked her head slightly, stopping herself from saying too much.

“Oh yes yes yes. On the Darkest Night, he gives us new Abbey stories. Erm, Abigail. Why are you never there? Why does he speak like you are gone? You are right here.” As Kompis asked the questions, a look of confusion washed over his face, realizing that none of the Abbey stories explained her absence.

The thought of her father existing *somewhere* other than her dreams made her break out in a full sweat. It was becoming difficult to hear Kompis over her own heart beat. The Darkest Night must be the night of the new moon.

“I have been on a quest, “Abigail fibbed, “that I need to complete before finding my way back to my father.”

Kompis was rubbing his hands and pacing in a circle, his tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth, deep in thought.

“If I bring *the* Abbey, oh oh- Abigail, to the Darkest Night… what a way to reward him for his service to us!” Kompis stuck his index finger in the air at the culmination of his thinking.

“Will you be my guest on the Darkest Night? Please please?”

 👍 LIKE THIS POST to have Abigail trust Kompis and say YES

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POLL RESULTS: 0 ❤️ 5 👍

Day Nine - Maria

Abigail attempted to wring the swamp water out of her hair. She smelled nasty. Wet curls fell in front of her eyes as she let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe the Kelpie king would find it alluring. The Full Moon was tomorrow night and her date at Kirk’s Well was imminent. She had yet to procure any gifts. She didn’t have time to screw around.

She let her mind go blank as she stared at the diverging tunnels. One smooth, one with the faintest sound of harmonious singing. She had watched too many episodes of classic Star Trek with her older brother Darrill to not be reminded of the dangerous creature, the Horta, that used its acidic slime to tunnel through solid rock leaving the sides amazingly smooth. She may be a skilled magical practitioner but she wasn’t a telepath like Spock; she couldn’t reason with a creature like that if she came upon it unprepared. Being reduced to a pile of gelatinous ooze didn’t fit in with the current plan.

Abigail’s ears strained to listen to the sounds coming from the other tunnel. She also heard what sounded like rhythmic tinking that she hadn’t picked up on before and a sweet pleasant smell as a light breeze played across her face. Air flow was good. At the very least she wouldn’t be knocked out by poisonous underground cave gasses. Her options weren’t great but this one seemed pretty obvious now. She reached down and pulled up her wet socks and headed into the left hand tunnel.

As she proceeded down the tunnel it alarmingly seemed to get smaller and smaller. The sounds of singing and what she could now tell was hammering were getting more discernible so the tunnel couldn’t be petering out. A dim light began to develop which was reassuring. She had never been afraid of the dark or even the things in the dark which were central to her family’s vocation, but this small nod to something civilized gave her hope that she’d soon be done with this unanticipated side quest.

The diminishing tunnel continued, slowly veering off to her left, and as she rounded a tighter turn to her dismay it did indeed end at what appeared to be a dense pocket of the the most glorious crystals she’d ever laid eyes on. Light from behind the wall of crystals she had come upon created an illuminated scene of shimmering purple amethysts and quartzes of varying hues. They filled her with such wonder that stupefied, she nearly ignored what was now very loud hammering and jovial singing reminiscent of sea shanties but ALOT dirtier. Abigail smiled to herself as she examined the deep fissures within the crystal bed. She always did appreciate a good limerick. Her father had loved them and they never failed to bring her good memories of him.

Her reverie was broken by a loud clunk and crack as the amethyst in front of her fissured. Peering out at her from the other side was a gnarled and bearded face. The face screamed. It screamed like a little girl and she couldn’t help but burst out into hysterical laughter. The screaming stopped and was immediately replaced by a confused and then intensely angry expression on the face of what Abigail now perceived to be a gnome.

As Abigail turned to run, the gnome’s gloved hand reached through the hole he’d made in the dense crystals and reached for her collar, grabbing the amulet around her neck. Its burnished leather cord couldn’t take the strain and it snapped sending Abigail crashing to her knees. She yelped with pain, and as she struggled to rise she heard the gnome’s now overcompensatingly masculine voice say “Hey I recognize this!”

👍 LIKE THIS POST for Abigail to abandon her amulet and escape

❤️ LOVE THIS POST for Abigail to confront the gnome and retrieve the amulet

POLL RESULTS: 7 ❤️ 3 👍

Day Eight - Leani

Having only seconds to think, Abigail did the only thing that made sense. The doors were too buried and there was no guarantee they’d even open in time for her to scramble through. She tucked and rolled towards the swamp, praying to the ancestors the two men in suits wouldn’t see her. Unfortunately, she overshot it a bit and ended up directly in the swamp.

The water was warm when she slid into it, which wouldn’t be so bad if the day hadn’t been hot. Not to mention, going for a dip in a swamp wasn’t exactly on her list of plans for the day.

As careful as she was, there was no way to mask the soft slash as she hit the water. In the distance, she saw the flashlight beams pause for a moment. Abigail settled between the weeds, almost fully submerged and remaining as still as possible.

She saw the men approach the pit and she was grateful for her decision. That would have been bad. Okay, maybe not bad but definitely not great.

She couldn’t tell what they were doing. It was too dark, which again begged the question how long was she down there??? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes and yet, the sun was gone and night settled across the swamp. When she saw the flashlights turn in her direction, she slunk further into the silt and mud, ignoring the gross way they seemed to suck her hands down into the muck.

There was a moment when the flashlights didn’t move and Abigail held her breath. Once the beams turned away, she exhaled slowly.

Abigail had to think of what to do now, and where to go next. The arrival of the men in suits was giving her a Men in Black vibe. She gathered they were government but which government would that be? Or witch government?

She held back a chuckle at her internal pun and carefully shifted, feeling the ground slowly start to pull her in when she remained too still.

Think, think, think, she thought, looking around.

But a fog had begun to settle. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she had the distinct feeling of being watched. Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder but all she saw was water and fauna. She could hear crickets and frogs, even an owl hooted in the distance.

Abigail became acutely aware that she was now in the middle of an actual horror movie and she did not like that one bit. She had to move. She had to get out of there or get closer to the men so she could at least hear what they were saying. It sounded like they were talking in hushed voices but she was too far away to make anything out.

She saw a part of the swamp that curved slightly, making it jut out a little further than where she currently was. Thinking that could be the best way to go, she slowly started to move. The ground still tried to pull her in, the mix of mud and weeds making the perfect trap for anyone or anything unfamiliar with the terrain.

It wasn’t until she felt something slither around her ankle that she realized two very important things: one was the swap actually WAS trying to swallow her and two, she had less than a second to take the deepest breath she could.

Suddenly, Abigail was jerked under with a yelp, nearly swallowing gross swamp water in the process. She was dragged further and further away from the shore, deeper into the darkness. Her vision was clouded and not even the faint light of the moon could penetrate the inky void.

The only thing going through her mind was a litany of swears that would have made even sailors blush.

Horrified, she realized how far she was being pulled down and no amount of struggling could free her from whatever had a tight grip on her ankle. The next thing she knew, she was dragged down through the muck, and then…

With a burst of water and a gasp, she found herself pulled down into a cave, landing with a heavy thud on her back. She could barely make out the hole she came through, the water somehow not dripping down to where she lay as if an invisible barrier kept it in place.

Then, whatever had hold of her started pulling her again. Abigail did the only thing she could do and threw her flashlight in the direction of where she was being pulled. It was still dark, making it impossible to see but she must have hit something because immediately she was let go. The light came on and she managed to catch just a glimpse of something big and lanky before it shrieked and disappeared into the darkness.

Gasping for breath, Abigail scrambled for the flashlight, quickly shining it in the direction the creature went but all she saw was the cave wall. A few tense seconds passed and then…nothing happened. Assuming the creature fled from the light and she was as safe as she could be for the moment, she groaned and flopped onto her back again.

“I hate this day. Screw this day in particular!” she said to no one.

It took a minute for her racing heart to slow down and even longer for her to haul herself up. When she finally got her bearings, she took stock of her surroundings. All she could tell was that she was in a dark and surprisingly dry cave.

There was a tunnel leading away from where she was pulled, which was where she assumed the creature ran. When she looked up to where she came from, she indeed saw the water of the swamp covering the hole. But the only thing that was wet was where she fell.

Having no choice, she squared her shoulders, said another prayer to the ancestors, and began to walk.

What struck her most about the cave was how big it was. Granted, Abigail wasn’t particularly tall but she didn’t even need to hunch or stoop to avoid the ceiling. Thankfully, the size was big enough so that she wouldn’t feel claustrophobic.

To her surprise, the more she walked, the wider the tunnel became, begging the question: what the hell was this tunnel doing under a swamp and how long had it been there? WAS she even there anymore? For all she knew, she could be in a different realm or plane.

As she walked, Abigail didn’t see her attacker or even any signs that she wasn’t alone. Not footprints, no claw marks, nothing.

All that changed about a minute later when her ears picked up some kind of noise in the distance. She strained to hear and as she kept walking, cold realization washed over her like ice water as she recognized the sound: singing.

It was still a ways off but it did not bode well.

Nope, don’t like this at all, she thought to herself.

Abigail came to a stop when she found a fork in the tunnel. Down one end, she could hear the singing a little clearer, though not enough to make out words. However, the other tunnel caught her attention. As she shined her light along the walls, she saw where the rocky, earthy cave suddenly transitioned into smooth stone. She ran her hand along it, realizing at once that it was man-made. It had to be.

Not sure which way to go, she bit her lip and looked between the tunnels.

 👍🏼 LIKE THIS POST for Abigail to follow the tunnel made of stone

 ❤️ LOVE THIS POST for Abigail to follow the tunnel with the singing

POLL RESULTS: 4❤️ 2 👍

Day Seven - Isaac

Why was it always Latin?

Abigail walked away from the three tied up possessed dogs. If they were speaking in English before, they weren't now. Maybe they never were, and Dorothy just understood what they were saying due to a low level psychic connection to Bambi. She didn't know, and, frankly, she didn't care. Once the sun set, there wouldn't be a problem for the rest of the night.

The bizarre sound of three possessed Pomeranian voices chanting in unison resounded as Abigail left the house.

Regnum sacrum. Regnum sacrum. Regnum sacrum.

Abigail shook her head. Was it really Latin, or is that just what people heard because they expected it from watching too many horror movies? Abigail didn't have time to ponder it any further. Before her was the development, built up on the swampland. Her brow furrowed. Shouldn't wetland protection laws stop this sort of dvelopment? Something was fishy...

She looked at the sign between the traffic cones blocking off the entrance. "Dark Star Industries." What a stupid, ominous business name, she thought as she walked past the orange traffic cones, striding quickly through the construction area towards the swamp.

"Hey..."

Abigail quickly turned towards the voice. A wiry man in dirty work clothes eyed her as he leaned against an excavator, smoking a cigarette. "You're not supposed to be here."

Abigail slowly walked towards him, trying to take measure of whether he was a problem. His eyes showed a little too much white. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of lost sleep.

This guy was afraid of something.

Abigail put her hands on her hips. "My name's Abigail. I'm an inspector. What's your name."

The worker took the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to spit at the ground. "I'm not giving any names, and I'm not talking about Ron or the accident."

Abigail's eyebrow arched. If she played this right, it sounded like she could get a good story out of this guy. "You sure? How can I help Ron if you don't let me know what happened? I need info from someone who saw something, and I don't need your name. I just need info to do right by Ron. I'm not here for Dark Star. I'm here to help."

The worker scoffed. "Yeah, that's what Dark Star would say. You know, he didn't even move. He just stood there, muttering something as the excavator bucket swung down. He had time to get out of the way..."

"Do you remember the exact time that happened?"

He squinted. "Why don't you know? The report should have told you all you needed to know about that. Man, with the crazy lady across the street going off about her dog, then this afternoon... Shit is getting weird. There's something about this swamp... I don't even know why Dark Star chose this spot. There's a whole bunch of better sites, there are better directions to expand the school that doesn't land straight into a swamp. And the digging. They just keep digging..."

He crushed the last ember of his cigarette under his heel. "I'm talking too much. You know what, I don't care. I said something. I did my part. I'm going home."

And, with that, he sauntered off.

The sun was definitely setting. Soon, it would be too dark to see anything. Abigail had to get a feeling for the swamp, though. She had to see if there was anything she could do tonight to keep any dogs or workers from getting possessed by whatever the hell was living in this swamp.

She didn't quite get to the swamp, though. She stopped at the giant crater that the construction crew had left. It was oddly deep for just a foundation. Even more odd, the groundwater from the swamp didn't seem to be seeping in. She knelt down to get a better look in the dimming light. As the sun set, a last ray of light reflected off of something metallic at the bottom of the pit.

She jumped in. She reached into her bag and produced a flashlight. Yup, there was something metallic there, alright. She brushed away the dirt. It was a door handle. She brushed away more to reveal the metal door attached to the door handle. She kept clearing the dirt away to reveal a full brass double door. Etched into the door were faces, terrible faces. There were words in a strange language that Abigail didn't recognize.

A chill went down her spine.

A flash of light passed of the top of the pit.

Abigail slowly climbed out, hoping it was just the light from the worker's truck as he was leaving.

But, didn't he already leave?

How long had she been in that pit?

She saw a black car pulled into the parking area. Two men stepped out. The both wore black suits and sunglasses, even though it was well past twilight.

How long had she been down in that pit???

They took out flashlights from their vehicle and turned them on, slowly surveying.

Abigail had to act fast, but she didn't know what to do.

 👍🏼this post to have Abigail tuck and roll out towards the swamp

 ♥️ this post to have Abigail drop back down into the pit with the doors

POLL RESULTS: 5❤️ 6 👍

Day Six - Josh

The Full Moon was in two days. She took a breath, glanced at the lamp on her desk that wouldn’t be turning back on until she paid her utility bill, and she made a hard choice.

The King of the Kelpies and Abigail had a date two days from now, on the night of the Full Moon at Kirk’s Well. Abigail wouldn’t miss it for the world - or at least for the sake of those kids who were about to be kelpie snacks.

But she had two days, and the lights were off.

Abigail had to keep the lights on, and as much as she may drive her crazy, Tess also needed a paycheck.

Abigail closed the trunk she was rifling through and stood up. She pulled her hair back and then let it fall around her head, tucking itself as it always did in the collar of her jean jacket. She sighed for what felt like the two-hundredth time that morning.

“Tess, what’s that woman’s address? The one with the double Bambi’s?”

—

She would have stayed there if she knew it was in the same part of town as the high school.

Abigail drove back towards the high school and kept going, the lunch rush just beginning to pick up. The woman with the two dogs - Dorothy - broke down in tears when Tess called her to let her know Abigail was on the way. Abigail knew there were tears, as she could hear them across the room.

Abigail found the woman’s house, just as she described it. A small colonial across the street from the construction equipment. Abigail eyed the construction site as she got out of her car. She’d never been on this street before but she could tell opposite Dorothy’s house used to be wild.

Swamp, in fact.

Dorothy’s house bordered the swamp the school was developing.

Abigail walked up to the house, noting the manicured lawn and the pristine flowers along the edge of the walkway that appeared almost fake. She could hear no dogs barking (never mind, speaking) as she approached the front door. The house was eerily silent, almost enveloped in a cone of quietude.

Abigail knocked on the door and heard nothing. There was no call from inside, no acknowledgment of someone who had to take the tea kettle off the stove or get off the couch. There was no sound at all, and after waiting what felt like a polite enough length of time, she knocked again. Abigail’s policy was three knocks and after that, she left the premises. She had been pranked enough times by high schoolers who thought they were funny. She lifted her hand to knock the third and final time when Abigail heard a crash from inside.

The sound of glass breaking.

Whatever this was, it was no prank. Abigail tried the door and, surprisingly, the door knob turned. She decided the situation could be physically dangerous for Dorothy so she entered quickly, closing the door softly behind her. In the muffled silence of the house, Abigail could hear the sounds of quiet struggling…and splashing water. She followed the sound, reaching into the inside pocket of her denim jacket.

She slipped the string of her yo-yo, carved with ancient symbols, over the middle finger of her right hand.

Abigail rounded the corner to Dorothy’s kitchen, and made her way through the quaint living room, now hearing clearly the sounds of struggle, whimpering, and splashing water. For everything she was expecting to see, what lay before her was the furthest from her mind.

There were now three dogs, and they were floating. Dorothy - or who she assumed was Dorothy - lay in her shower, coughing and sputtering with the water of the shower falling on her. One of the floating dogs - a copper-colored Pomeranian, like the other two - gripped the hose of the shower head and was, apparently, paying Dorothy back for all the baths she must have given Bambi over the years.

The other two Bambi’s - Bambi #2 & Bambi #3 - were floating in the air, taking in Dorothy’s torment with a feverish glint in both their eyes. They were all so focused on hosing Dorothy down they didn’t notice Abigail as she took up space on the threshold.

“Hey Bambi,” Abigail called over the sound of the falling water. “Special delivery for ya!”

With that, Abigail shot out her enchanted yo-yo, the one she inherited from her father, with precision accuracy. Always taught to go for the entity closest to her, the yo-yo hit fair and true, knocking Bambi #2 out of the air, frozen now in the grip of blue power lines that crisscrossed over its body. The yo-yo returned and was lashed out again before Bambi #3 could make a complete turn, and #3 fell to the floor, trapped in the same holding spell #2 was caged by.

The original Bambi, though - she was fast. She darted through the air before Abigail could land another strike with her yo-yo, her teeth bared and red light gleaming out of her eyes. All Abigail could do was hold up her arm as Bambi’s teeth closed on the denim. The Pomeranian, fueled by some unknown power, floated in the air, kicking and clawing as it tried to attack her.

Luckily, all the yo-yo had to do was touch a possessed creature, so she took the yo-yo with her left hand and touched Bambi, immediately deflating her as she fell to the floor, caged by tendrils of blue light. Abigail rushed to the bathroom, finding Dorothy - spry for a woman of her apparent age - making her way out of the bathtub.

“Dorothy, I’m Abigail. Of Spectre Detectors. You were speaking to my assistant, Tess. Are you okay?” Abigail was guiding Dorothy to the couch in the living room after getting her wrapped up in a big bath towel. Her nightgown dripped with water, yet she seemed no worse for wear.

“Yes, yes, I am, thank you. Thank you for coming,” Dorothy stammered, sitting herself down on her couch. A grandfather clocked ticked and tocked just a few feet away. The sprinklers came to life outside.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Abigail asked Dorothy.

“Yes, yes,” Dorothy replied, composing herself. “I took Bambi out for our walk this morning, as I usually do every day. This dang construction next door, across the street, has been disturbing her greatly. Always barking towards the swamp as we walk by, she’s never done that before so I figure it must be the construction equipment, you know?” Dorothy was patting down her hair with the corner of her towel.

“Until this morning. On our walk back, Bambi just FLEW into a rage, and just when I thought I couldn’t get her under control, she fell over, stiff as a board. I brought her into the house, thinking I could get her to come to, that she must have had some sort of panic attack…and then she began talking.” Dorothy looked down at her lap. Abigail found that most people who experience the paranormal are hesitant, almost ashamed, to talk about their experiences.

“Go on,” Abigail encouraged.

“I thought I was losing my marbles when Bambi started talking to me. She became ferocious, and that’s when I called you. Soon after, she began talking about all sorts of crazy things. How we were all going to die for disturbing the “Sacred Kingdom,” whatever that is. I can’t remember most of what she said, and then it got really weird when she went through some sort of spasm and just…doubled.”

“Doubled?” Abigail asked.

“Yes, doubled. I swear she started blowing up like a piece of popcorn and then another one of her, just popped off. Then IT started to talk too, with more mention of the Sacred Kingdom.”

Abigail’s mind was spinning. She wasn’t expecting this mess with Dorothy and Bambi to have anything to do with Principal Dexter and the fiasco at the high school, yet the proximity of the two seemed connected. She could look out the window and almost see the hulking shadow that was Piermont High.

Yet what worried her the most, what got the hairs on the back of her neck standing, was the mention of the “Sacred Kingdom.” She remembered her father only showing fear to her once, in all his years, and it was only the few times he mentioned the Sacred Kingdom.

One of those times was the last time he was alive, right before he left for Europe all those years ago. To hear mention of this, all these years later, out of the blue, caused her to take notice.

“Personally,” Dorothy said, “I think it has to do with the swamp. I have been hearing these godawful noises in the middle of the night.” Speaking of night, Abigail noticed how the day was starting to dim - she only had a little bit of daylight left.

But daylight was truly the sand in her hourglass. Once the sun set, those blue spirit bindings around the Bambi’s would disappear. Bambi #1 would go back to normal, and #2 and #3 would disappear into a pool of ectoplasm, Abigail had seen it a million times before. If she wanted to get answers out of the swamp, she’d have to go before daylight.

If she wanted to get answers out of Bambi, while she was still possessed, she’d have to figure out how to remove the bindings from Bambi #1 and interrogate the dog while possessed. Doing so would be incredibly dangerous, both to her and Dorothy, but possibly to the entire town if Bambi were to escape her.

Maybe she could get answers from the dog, but maybe she could get answers out of the swamp - and possibly bring an end to whatever was happening over there - while she was at it.

What would she do?

 👍🏼 this post to have Abigail explore the swamp across the street

 ♥️ this post to have Abigail focus on interviewing the possessed Bambi

POLL RESULTS: 5 ❤️ 11 👍

Day Five - Angie

Abigail held her breath for a moment as she explored the notion. She ran her fingers over the amulet, silently asking for clarity. Her goal was to protect the school and its inhabitants, not scare them away. She knew choosing to meet a kelpie king wasn’t going to be straight forward.

“How would I go about meeting your king?” Abigail asked carefully, bracing herself for the most likely answer. An answer that would complicate the seemingly easy paycheck.

“Are you familiar with Lost Lake?” Gwen smiled as she said “Lost Lake”, the kind of smile that would make one question intent.

Abigail had heard the lore of Lost Lake many times, as it was one of her father’s favorite stories to tell at family gatherings. Just as some families would tell scary stories around campfires about ghosts and killers hiding in the woods, Abigail’s father would tell tales of Lost Lake.

“From what I have been taught, Lost Lake is in Upper Forest, can only be seen during a new moon, and only by the eyes of the lucky chosen.” Abigail recited the description from memory, using the same resonating inflections her father had used.

“Again, with the drama. Lucky chosen? I suppose humans would consider it ‘luck’.” Gwen moved toward the salt circle. A sudden breeze cut through the cafeteria, rustling the salt. As Gwen closed her eyes, the salt swirled in the air creating a funnel-shaped salt tornado. Upon opening her eyes, the salt fell to the floor, creating what looked to be a map.

Abigail’s eyes quickly scanned the salt map, looking for anything familiar, in hopes she could memorize the directions she was about to be told. She recognized the trails of Upper Forest, but there were marks that she did not recognize. Gwen followed Abigail’s gaze to a small circle towards the end of a trail.

“Surely you know of Kirk’s Well?” Gwen said in a tone that left room for Abigail to fib and agree.

“I do not. I know of the trail, I have hiked that trail many times… but I do not recall a well being there.” Admitting ignorance was difficult, but Abigail knew lying to a kelpie was a terrible idea. Gwen, enjoying the honesty, raised her head and beckoned the small circle to form a three dimensional well.

“The new moon brings light to much that is overlooked. Travel the trail, equipped with three gifts, on the night of the new moon. I will meet you at Kirk’s Well where you will offer the gifts. If my king is pleased you will have the chance to, as you say, parley.” Gwen’s flowing voice turned to a cackle as she said the word parley.

“What are the three gifts to be?” Abigail asked quickly, noting that Gwen appeared to be slowly transforming back to her equine form.

Gwen laughed, “Good effort, but you know that the choice of gifts is part of the challenge. You must earn the king’s favor.”

“I will meet you at Kirk’s Well, on the night of the full moon… which is in…” Abigail closed her eyes trying to remember the moon’s phase from the night before. “..two days from now.”

A heavy gust of wind blew through the cafeteria. Abigail opened her eyes to see Gwen was gone, leaving only puddles of soggy footprints and a small pile of salt behind. The lights flickered back on. Abigail took a deep breath in. She gathered her belongings and headed to the door. Before she could knock to let Principal Dexter know she was done, the door unlocked.

“Did it work? Is it gone? I mean, spirit, is the spirit gone?” Dexter’s voice was unsteady and nervous. He was holding a check in one hand, waving it around.

“Not yet, I have more work to do.” Abigail quickened her pace towards the entrance.

“Wait, what? What do you mean? I thought we had a deal!” Dexter’s voice rising to frenzied, high-pitched panic.

Abigail spun around on her heels. She looked Dexter deep in his eyes and paused for a second. “Look, these situations aren’t always straight-forward. This is going to require much more than me merely asking a spirit to do what I want it to do.”

Dexter folded the check and tucked it into his pocket. “What are your next steps, then? I need to know when I can promise the students and their families that the school is safe. Summer classes begin next week!” Dexter said with counterfeit confidence.

“You don’t need details of my next steps. What you need to know are the steps are dangerous and that I will be back here in three days to collect payment.” Abigail watched Dexter’s face go from feigning authority to accepting reality.

“Ok, you’re the expert. I guess I’ll see you in three days.” Dexter’s shoulders rounded in defeat.

------

Abigail pushed through her office doors, opening both swinging doors at the same time, making quite the entrance.

“You’re back! How’d it go? Did you get a check? I hope so, because they turned our lights off…” Tess’s voice trailed off as Abigail blew right past her, opening a wooden trunk and rummaging through a myriad of stones, feathers, and other curious findings. As Abigail searched through the trunk, she explained her encounter with Gwen and the quest ahead of her.

“Ok, wait, hold on. I have questions.” Tess had been taking notes as Abigail explained what she was about to do, “One- what gifts will you bring? Two- how can I help? Three- the woman with the floating dog called back to report that the dog is multiplying and has offered to triple our normal fee if we could get to her by tonight.. do you think you can do that? We sort of need the money…”

Abigail stopped everything she was doing and stared at Tess. “The dog is multiplying?”

“Um..” Tess flipped through her notes, “Yes, multiplying. There are now two Bambi’s, both floating, and both speaking.” Tess bit her bottom lip, knowing that adding another urgent situation to Abigail’s plate was the last thing she needed.

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POLL RESULTS: 1❤️ 4 👍

Day Four - Maria

Abigail felt her chest tighten. She definitely wasn’t getting paid enough for this.

Charles Herant was no fool. He was shrewd, efficient with his words, and very, very experienced when it came to his vocation. Well known for his expansive knowledge of diverse spirits, his lectures were always a hit at the paranormal conferences that the whole family would attend. This is why it was such a shock seven years ago when Abigail received a call from Scotland Yard informing her that her father was missing.

 Abigail hadn’t even known her father had left the country- he always had more than enough work here in the states. It was unlike him to not keep her up to speed with his work and she had bristled with anger about it. One of his most important rules had been to always communicate regarding your last whereabouts. It was standard operating procedure. Had he been in a rush? Even so…

After one red eye flight alone to Edinburgh, multiple cups of strong espresso, and a bumpy ride through the highlands to Glenmore Forest Park, she had arrived at the scene of what looked like a very straightforward summoning. The peculiar thing- the salt circle her father had so clearly taken great pains to create was broken, along with some scattered ash and the lingering smell of frankincense. The waters of what she would be told was Loch Morlich were calm. Nothing afoot. Nothing ominous. They had searched the park with a fine tooth comb for weeks following the incident and Mr. Herant’s case was eventually closed. It remained a complete mystery as to what exactly her father had been doing there.

Proclaimed deceased by the authorities, she reached out beyond the mundane world to try and get answers. Any attempts to glean information from her spirit world contacts came up dead for lack of a better description. Questions simply yielded riddles or answers were inconclusive. None of his colleagues seemed to have any knowledge of his most recent work. Whatever Chuck had been up to in that deep forest had been top secret.

Now in this all American cafeteria she stood before a Kelpie- or the new world equivalent she supposed, and the irony was not lost on her that this entity, smelling of swamp gas and staring her down with that uppity and penetrating gaze, was just the kind of being to inhabit a Scottish Loch.

Abigail set her teeth and gathered her resolve. Her father didn’t make mistakes and neither did she- this was calculated. This case may have started out as a means to seek a quick buck but it was clear now that she might get some more answers into the nature of his death by simply carrying out some of the same steps he had.

Abigail broke the salt circle with her sensible shoe and stepped onto the other side of the brand new linoleum floor.

The River spirit crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “Well that wasn’t dramatic or anything. You humans and your salt. You’re simply OBSESSED. The amount of salt that gets dumped into my swamp by your plow trucks every winter is simply astounding. I’m constantly cleaning the crust off of every thing.”

Surprised by the conversational tone the Kelpie had taken with her and hopeless for any capture now that her circle had been broken and her ritual plans were cast aside, Abigail unceremoniously blurted out apology. “Well, I’m quite sorry for that- on behalf of all humans. We do make a mess of things and I’m terribly sorry your swamp has been filled in to create this new space in the elementary school”. If she got out of this alive she should definitely add consulting to her list of services. This sort of faux pas could have easily been avoided.

“I’ve met your terms…ugh?”

“Gwen. You may call me Gwen”

The kelpie examined her blackened talons nonchalantly.

“Well then Gwen, it’s my business to ensure good relations between spirits and humans and I’d say your activity here certainly doesn’t qualify for polite society.”

Gwen’s black eyes narrowed and the scales around her neck stood to attention as she fumed. “I have been trying to get these children out of here. It is no longer safe. My swamp has in the time of human memory represented a “filter” of sorts between our kingdom and yours. But this wretched little town you’ve recently created- you keep expanding year after year, you’re an infestation. Now my swamp can no longer serve its purpose which is not only to keep you out but to keep certain other “parties” IN. You humans are totally oblivious and have no idea what you’ve started. I couldn’t say why but our king has a soft spot for you cretins and I’ve been tasked with scaring you off”

Abigail was flummoxed. She never considered the Kelpie might be acting with good intentions and she was intrigued by the swamp’s purpose. There truly was a much more complicated ecosystem and many moving parts that she had never taken into account in her paranormal work before. She had primarily been consumed with bag em’ and tag em’.

It was obvious that Gwen had become impatient.

“I’m not sure how we move on from here” Abigail said out loud but mostly to herself.

“You can help me clear out this sorry excuse for a feasting hall by escalating the fear in these silly humans with me or you can take it up with my King”.

👍 LIKE THIS POST for Abigail to help Gwen reclaim the swampland/cafeteria

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POLL RESULTS: 9❤️ 5 👍

Day Three - Leani

“You can do that?” Principal Dexter asked, his eyes somehow becoming wider.

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to realize how farfetched this all sounds,” Dexter said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “A river spirit who looks like a horse? And eats children?”

Abigail rounded to face him and crossed her arms. His reaction was what she was afraid would happen. She didn’t appreciate his tone and found it frustrating that he was scared and worried one minute, but so quick to laugh her off the next.

“Look, you called me. Not the other way around. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Regardless of how farfetched it sounds, it’s the truth, which is what you hired me for. Now, I can take care of the problem and you can pay me for my services, or I can get back in my car and leave. But don’t come crying to me when an angry river spirit devours a student because you laughed me off.” She barely took a step towards the door before he hurried to stop her. 

“Wait, wait! No! Please, don’t go. I’m sorry. You’re right, I was the one to call you.” When she looked back at him, he wrung his hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just…when becoming principal this isn’t exactly what I thought my job would entail.”

“Always prepare for the unexpected. Now, what do you want me to do? Trap it or bribe it?”

“Well, I mean, I suppose if it can be convinced to help protect the school that doesn’t sound so bad. I wouldn’t feel right trapping it.”

His answer surprised her, considering most people wanted spirits gone so they could go back to their regular lives and pretend they didn’t see beyond the veil.

Abigail nodded, letting her backpack slip from her shoulders and onto the floor. “Fine. But I’m going to need privacy and you’re going to have to lock the door.”

“You want to lock us in here with that thing?”

“Spirit. Call it a spirit. If it’s going to be living here, you need to address it properly,” Abigail corrected. “And no. I want you to lock me in here with it.” At his concerned look, she added, “Don’t worry. I’ve done this many times before. I know what I’m doing. Which is the main reason I need to be alone. These types of situations need to be handled delicately. You’re going to leave here, you’re going to lock the doors behind you, and you’re going to go wait in your office.”

“What if you need help?”

“I won’t. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”

Dexter nodded and reached into his pocket to withdraw a ring of keys. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“You can thank me by writing out that check while you wait.”

Dexter made himself scarce, locking the cafeteria doors behind him. Abigail studied the TV, staring at the blurry image of the spirit. It had been a few months since she had dealt with an elemental and it had been a harrowing experience. Spirits tied to the land can be finicky. 

They are the rightful protectors of their domain and don’t take too kindly to humans encroaching on their territory, which seemed to be happening more and more each year. The unwavering need for human expansion wreaked havoc on the spiritual ecosystem that had existed since the dawn of time.

If humans only knew how much their actions truly disturbed the world around them.

Abigail tore her eyes away from the screen and scanned the room. When she was confident she was absolutely alone, she closed her eyes and took a moment to center herself. As much as she wanted to get things done and get out of there, she had to tread carefully. 

Nothing good ever came from rushing a ritual, a lesson she and her family had learned the hard way.

A lesson her father had learned the hard way.

Once her thoughts were clear and her mind focused, Abigail knelt to open her bag. She glanced around and muttered a few choice words under her breath. All at once, the cameras, TV, and lights shut off. Even the AC cut out as her charm temporarily disabled the electronics in the room. Which meant there would not be any recordings of what she was about to do. Dexter had enough footage of the paranormal, he didn’t need any more.

Reaching into her bag, Abigail felt around for a bit, swearing to herself when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. Digging deeper, she practically had to climb in. Damn interdimensional spaces. Handy for keeping lots of things in a small bag, not helpful for staying organized.

Eventually, her hand found the cool metal handle she’d been searching for and she withdrew a thick, wooden briefcase. Burned into the polished exterior was her family crest, along with various sigils and runes designed to protect the contents within. She carried it and her bag with her to the center of the room, shoving a table out of the way to make space. 

Abigail opened the case, letting her altar rise from its black void.

The short wooden table was already set with what she would need. Candles, incense, salt, herbs. The whole nine yards. She’d done her affirmations and offerings just that morning and the cup of coffee next to her father’s picture was still warm. 

Abigail poured a thick circle of salt around the space, trapping herself safely within its circumference. After settling in front of the altar, she took several deep, purposeful breaths, and reached beneath the neckline of her shirt to withdraw an amulet.

It was a family heirloom, the family crest woven from the same wood as the altar. The wood from their homeland. The necklace had been passed down from one generation elder to the next. The fact that she had it but wouldn’t even be considered close to being an elder always stung. Because it reminded her that she shouldn’t have it. It shouldn’t be there. It should be around her father’s neck.

No, don’t think about that right now, Abigail scolded herself. Remain focused.

Clearing her throat, she closed her eyes and spoke aloud. “I cast a circle of protection. Ancestors and guiding spirits please watch over me during my ritual.”

Heat bloomed in her chest to let her know the message had been received and when she opened her eyes, the candles flickered to life. They had heard her and were listening.

And they weren’t the only ones. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up that uncomfortable feeling when she first stepped into the cafeteria came rushing back. Now that she focused, she realized what it was.

She was being watched.

“I speak now to the river spirit who resides on this land, the one whose home was destroyed,” she said in a clear, strong voice. “I ask that you show yourself to me. Please, speak. I mean you no harm.”

There was a beat of silence but not the normal silence. Abigail would describe it as an absence of sound. No hum from electronics, no passing cars outside, or birds singing. Nothing. Then, all at once the temperature in the room dropped and Abigail felt her arms rise with goosebumps. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and when she turned to look, the same ghostly shadow from the tape materialized from nowhere. 

She tracked its movements and watched it carefully as the shape became solid. Then, it started to change. With a snap and a crack of bones, the horse buckled and contorted, its body morphing and twisting until it was no longer a horse, but a slender woman with long black hair, blue-tinted skin, and black fingernail-like talons. 

She was draped in moss with a crown made of bones protruding from her forehead. As she walked, she left wet footprints in her wake. 

“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” she asked, her voice washing over Abigail like a babbling brook as she regarded her with jet-black, pupilless eyes.

“I am Abigail, and I have come to parley.”

The river spirit lifted a slender eyebrow. “Parley? How formal. What have I done to warrant such honor?”

“Flinging chairs around, for one. It seems your presence is frightening the students and staff.”

“Good. They should be frightened.”

“And should I?”

The spirit grinned, showing a row of sharp teeth. “That entirely depends on what you have to say next.” She stepped closer until she was just beyond the circle of salt. “If you truly wish to parley, I will need some reassurance. Trust is given if trust is shown.”

“And how should I show you my trust?”

The spirit beckoned Abigail with her long finger. “Step out of the circle.”

👍 LIKE THIS POST for Abigail to stay in the circle and talk her way out of this. 

❤️ LOVE THIS POST for Abigail to step out of the circle to show the spirit she trusts her. 

POLL RESULTS: 10 ❤️ 4 👍

Day Two - Isaac

Elementary school halls have a certain smell. Pencils and floor cleaner are the obvious suspects, but there's more mixed into the scent. Abigail knew the smell, but not because she went to a public elementary school system and not because she had kids of her own.

Come to think of it, last time she was in a school like this was in 1992, and that didn't turn out all that great.

She shook off that particular memory. That was 11 years ago, and it still seemed like yesterday. This kind of job could do a number on you if you take too many trips down memory lane, so she did her best to focus on the present moment.

The sound of her shoes hitting the floor resonated through the hallway. Even though it was already hotter than average, summer had just began and the school was empty. That was, of course, perfect. She didn't need any kids underfoot when she was chasing ghosts.

Well, alleged ghosts.

"Ah! Miss Haaiiraannt!"

Abigail turned to see a thin, mustached man with thinning hair leaning out of an open door. He waved, trying to seem friendly, but his pursed lips that almost hid under his mustache betrayed his underlining sense of impatience.

Abigail gave him a quick smile back. "Principal Dexter. It's good to meet you. And it Herant, with a silent h. You can just call me Abigail."

Principal Dexter nodded. "Good to meet you, Abigail. I have to say, I am not normally a believer in," he vaguely waved his hand, "the paranormal. But things have been getting out of hand. If you follow me, I can take you to the cafeteria."

The principal turned away and began to walk quickly in the other direction, his back straight and his arms nervously tucked into his pockets.

Abigail sighed and tried to catch up, hefting her backpack more securely over her shoulders. "Right. You had mentioned that the cafeteria is where a lot of things have been happening. Is that where the security footage is as well?"

The principal nodded without looking back. "Yes. The kids have been terrified. We already have a heck of a time getting summer students in to do their work. Now that they're convinced that there are ghosts, it's that much more difficult. It's a bit of a nightmare. I would just dismiss this if I hadn't seen some of the stuff myself. And then there are the videos..."

Abigail sighed even harder. She was hoping that this would be an easy consultation fee, that she could prove that it was the pipes or something, and she could get an easy paycheck before hitting up the lady with the possessed dog. While finding that she had been called up to investigate something that wasn't actually real was annoying, at least it was easy money that didn't involve her risking her life.

It's never as easy as she hopes.

They passed through the double doors into the cafeteria. It looked like every other school cafeteria. It was easy to imagine it filled with kids, a disgruntled cafeteria lady behind the counter ready to hook the kiddies up with a square slice of greasy pizza. There was something... off, though. Abigail couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something not right.

In the corner was a TV on wheels with a VCR below it. The principal produced a tape and pushed it in. "You have to see this to believe it."

He pressed the power button on the TV as the VCR whirred to life. The screen's fuzzy image gave way to a slightly grainy view of the cafeteria. Abigail turned to her right to see the camera in the upper corner that clearly filmed this video.

"Watch this!" The principal pointed to a table surrounded by chairs on the screen. The chair closest to the camera started to twitch. Then, suddenly, it flipped into the air, flying off screen. The chair to its right followed suit. Then the next. Then the next. Soon, only one chair remained.

"Wait," Abigail said as she squinted at the screen, "could you pause the video and rewind it a bit... Right there! Stop!"

The principal moved his hand away from the VCR and moved his face closer to the screen. "Is that..."

Abigail nodded, her eyes locked on the shadowy figure on the screen that had been moving so quickly it was originally easy to miss. "Yup. That looks like horse to me, too."

The principal blinked. "What... is a ghost horse doing in my cafeteria?"

Abigail started to rummage through her bag. "That, my friend, is a traditional river spirit that has a fondness for eating kids. It's a good thing you called when you did. No missing kids yet, right?"

The principal's face paled. "You can't be serious. This... this cafeteria is an expansion. We just filled the swamp that was here and built over."

Abigail nodded. "That tracks. Now the question is... Do you want me to break out a spirit trap and bring it out of here, or do you want to bribe it to be security for the school?"

 👍LIKE THIS POST to have Abigail go full ghost busters on the spirit

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POLL RESULTS: 17 ❤️ 9 👍

Day One - Josh

"THE PERPLEXING PATH OF ABIGAIL HERANT" is a cooperative social media choose-your-own-adventure from Leani Lopez, Angie Low-Ryder, Maria Neal, Josh Simonds, and Isaac Vars. All five of them will be rotating their posts daily, continuing from where the story left off on the day prior, based upon YOUR reactions.

That's right - YOU and everyone else who can see these posts can determine what path Abigail takes over the course of the next month. Stay tuned for each day's installment!

There was a knock at her door.
She didn't have time for this, and as she crunched her ice between her teeth, she closed her laptop.
"Yes, Tess, what is it?"
Tess never waited for an answer before barging in, and Abigail had long ago stopped trying to get her to wait. Tess's wild red hair splayed out from her head like an atomic explosion: bright, invasive, and most potentially radioactive. 
"Boss, we just got a phone call. Sounded kinda urgent," Tess said in her typical drawl.
"Aren't they all urgent?" Abigail shot back, internally AND externally rolling her eyes.
The years were wearing on her. This job wasn't for the faint of heart, nor for the weak of stomach.
"Yeah," Tess parlayed back immediately, "but this one sounded REALLY urgent. Like, really really." Her eyes widened like a scared wild animal. 
"Give it to me," Abigail said as she pushed back from her desk. The dust motes kicked up by Tess's entrance floated lazily in the air, caused by her intrusion. 
Abigail knew it was going to be a long day, and it wasn't even past 9 AM yet. Her iced coffee sat half-drank on her desk, tears of condensation languidly making their descent on the outside of her cup.
The heat was a killer this summer, but you know what they say:
If it's not the heat, it's the stupidity.
And there wasn't going to be any shortage of that today, Abigail had a suspicion.
"Okay, get this," Tess said, holding her message pad. "This woman calls, absolutely FRANTIC. She sounds like she's about a hundred years old but man, is she fit to be tied." Tess twisted one of her red curls around her fingers in that nervous tick that probably curled her hair in the first place. Probably saved her a ton at the salon.
Tess kept on twisting. "She says her dog was FLOATING. As, like, in the AIR," Tess continued, as if floating could mean anything else. "Her dog, a pomeranian, has never exhibited anything weird before today. The woman thinks it has something to do with the digging that started across the road from her yesterday, and anytime her dog floats, it speaks." Tess paused. "She told me some of the things the dog was saying, and Abigail, it sounds scary. It sounds like exactly what we went through back in 2001, right before, you know..."
Abigail knew what she was talking about. The falling towers, however distant, were still in her mind like it was yesterday. 
Abigail's heart began to race, but she stared at Tess cooly. "And you told her we're a paid service? That we're not a charity?"
"Yes, I told her our fee," Tess replied. "She said she's willing to pay it, even double it if that's what it takes to get this dog-" Tess looked at her pad. "-Bambi taken care of. She's convinced her dog is possessed."
Double our normal fee? Abigail considered. Bills were tight and people weren't knocking the door down to procure her services. 
But she had her appointment at the local elementary school coming up. It wasn't every day that the local principal called and wanted her opinion on the problems they'd been having at the high school. Lockers opening and closing for no reason, chairs flipping over in the cafeteria with no apparent cause. He was worried, as some of the kids were beginning to miss days of school because they were scared. The principal had, according to him, hours of footage to show her, all of footage no one in the school administration could explain.
As if reading her thoughts, Tess said, "But your appointment with Principal Dexter - you know how urgent that is. Kids are missing school. The reporters were circling yesterday, taking statements from the kids after school. This could get real bad, real fast."
Abigail stood up and grabbed her jean jacket off the back of her chair. It's never an easy day in the life of a paranormal private investigator, and today wasn't looking any different.
"I know which one I have to take care of," Abigail said. She looked over Tess's shoulders, at the sign hanging on the wall. It read, in bold letters: 
"SPECTRE DETECTORS - Private Paranormal Investigators." 
It was the name of the agency her father had left to her, following in her old man's footsteps after his misstep - and untimely death - in the forests of Scotland. 
Under that, the agency's tagline: Believing You When No One Else Will, since 1953.
Abigail left the office quickly, without saying goodbye to Tess. She turned down the short hallway outside her office, and headed for her car.
👍 LIKE THIS POST to have Abigail visit Bambi and her owner.
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POLL RESULTS: 14 ❤️ 13 👍