John Edward Hayes

Intro  I stepped out of my office, into the rain-soaked streets of Wake City, the neon lights of "Sinners Row" reflecting off the wet pavement like a gaudy mirror. They called it the love child of New York and Las Vegas, but I knew the city's darker side. Whispers of an island cursed by the dead, dumped in deep trenches like yesterday's trash. Most dismissed the stories as urban legend, but I'd seen the truth. My name's Detective Feris Weir, PI by day, reluctant medium by...well, all the time. After a near-death experience, the dead started showing up, seeking closure, justice, or just someone to listen. Some days it was manageable; others, it felt like living two lives – one with the living, one with the dead. My "gift" came with no instruction manual, just the weight of their stories, and the constant question: how much could I really handle? •December 25th, 2099, 9:47 PM. I stood at the edge of the chaos, surveying the wreckage. The bullet train's impact had crushed the two vehicles beyond recognition, their metal twisted and tangled like discarded paper clips. Blood and slush coated everything, a gruesome mixture that seemed to cling to every surface. I cursed myself for not wearing my boots; my oxfords were ruined. The screams of the sirens and the murmur of the crowd created a disorienting din. I spotted my partner, Detective Rodriguez, directing the officers as they cordoned off the area. I nodded to him, and he gestured for me to start canvassing. But my gaze was drawn to the victims – the dead. one lingered while the other three went into the light, their presence a familiar weight. I could see them, trapped between worlds, their eyes fixed on me. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversations to come. The living would need answers; the dead would need my help. I muttered under my breath, "Merry fucking Christmas."