“You killed him,” Mena exclaimed at Jill who brandished her frying pan over Chad’s body.

“Technically,” Ashlan remarked snidely, her arms crossed. “You cannot kill the living dead because they’re already dead.”

“That still doesn’t make it right,” Janus said, her hands in front of her face over Chad’s assault.

“Who are you?” Jill demanded, holding her frying pan like it was a weapon. “I should have brought me axe.”

Mena proceeded to tell the girl all about her brother’s downfall, and she slowly came to her senses. That didn’t stop Jill from growing angrier, however, when she heard how King Ink did her brother in. “That no good, dirty lying scoundrel of a king. I oughta…”

“Duck!” Ashlan yelled, as Mena narrowly avoided a frying pan over her head. Janus, however, was already on the ground tending to the unconscious Chad.

“Now I really wish I had me axe,” Jill screamed, a spark of anger igniting in her eyes. “And to think I was the king’s personal woodsmith. I can’t believe he’d do that to my big bro.”

“Wow,” Ashlan murmured in disbelief. “You’re the woodsmith? Are you really that strong?”

Jill made a muscle and flashed a gap-toothed smile. “I was born with the strength of ten men. I’m a lean, mean wood choppin’ machine, and have put several lumberjacks to shame.”

Ashlan smirked as she marveled at Jill’s thin but toned body. “Remind me to never judge a lumberjack by their gender,”

“That’s Lumber Jill,” Jill giggled.

A panicked expression appeared on Mena’s face and she joined Janus on the ground. The pixie reaper was still tending an unconscious Chad Abber.

“No use?” Mena asked with concern

Janus gave a sad smile as she put her arms on Chad’s chest. “I’ve tried everything but…”

Janus pursed her lips and slowly lowered them to Chad’s open mouth. As she did, a chartreuse gas emerged from her deadly lips. It circled Chad’s body and went into Chad’s gaping zombie maw. They pressed lips and Chad let out an uncomfortable gasp. His singular eye opened. “What the bloody biscuits was that? That’s the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life…er death…”

Janus gave a coy smile and pushed her bony fingers together. “That was my kiss of death. Nothing wakes up zombies like a near death experience.”

Chad covered his grey lips. “Never do that again” he snapped. “All I could see was me rotting in that jail.”

“If you’ve already died,” Janus remarked, “My kiss will remind you of the time you died.”

Chad Abber stuck out his hand and waved Janus away. “Sorry dead lady. That was way too creepy. Keep those blighted lips off-a me”

Janus skeletal lips trembled, and Mena was sure her reaper friend’s eye sockets would emit tears if they could.

“So, now that my bros back,” Jill said placing her hand on Chad’s shoulder. “How about we get choppin’ back to our house. Then we can talk about how we can give the axe to this Ghost Writer.”

Chad and Jill’s abode was right outside the castle town. The highest spires of King Ink’s castle overlooked a small ranch, where piles of wood were carefully laid outside. There were even large tables designed specifically for wood chopping. Jill’s shiny axe was buried deep in a piece of lumber she had finished chopping. Serene grass and trees, though black and white, gave the home a picturesque rural feel.

“So,” Ashlan said, carefully following Jill and Chad. “If you’re the woodsmith, what does Chad do?”

“Chad?” Jill responded with a caustic laugh, “He’s a dandy. He’s lucky his looks reached all the way to Princess Plumerella or else I’d put him out of the house.”

Chad laughed nervously and sickly, before adding, “I know looks didn’t last forever, but I didn’t count on it to happen so quick.”

Janus mumbled, “I think you’re handsome,” but it seemed to aggravate Chad even more. He let out an aggravated cross between a manly sigh and a zombie moan.

“You ladies can get settled in the guest room,” Jill said, lifting her frying pan again and causing several people to duck. “I’m sure traveling across realms has made you very hungry.”

Mena reclined on one of the two guest rooms in the bedroom. The beds were very fleecy and provided momentary comfort to speculate on the next plan of action. “Well girls, what do you suppose we do now?”

“Probably find a way to get to the writer’s bedroom,” Ashlan responded as she leaned against a closet wall. “We gotta get over there and steal that plume back. Then you can write everyone a happy ending.”

“Well,” Mena said, turned onto her belly. “We are on a table after all. Perhaps we can walk off the edge of the world into the writer’s room…Flat Kingdom theory, anyone?”

“I normally wouldn’t believe that kind of poppycock,” Ashlan said, twirling her nose in the air. “But perhaps the rules of disfunctionality work better in this world of Dula—“Ashlan turned aside to see Janus glancing dreamily at the wall—"Bony, why aren’t you annoying us with some trivial pun or something.”

Janus sighed gazing at the wall. “Unrequited love can make you feel deader than a scythe through the heart.”

“Come on, bony, he’s a useless fop,” Ashlan snapped. “There’s more important people or things to feel that feeling over. I should know.”

Mena scratched her head. With wide eyes she surveyed the lioness with a look of disbelief. “Ashlan, you actually know about unrequited love?”

Ashlan’s cheeks flushed, her fangs and claws sprang out, and she snarled. “No I don’t. I’m simply telling, dead eyes here to not do stupid things over someone who might not love you back.”

Janus sighed for a second time and continued to stare at the wall like it was talking to her. “That’s true. I shouldn’t bend over backwards and set up a crazy mystery for my object of affection to solve…”

Ashlan’s eyes dilated. “I was bored, ok? Marie and Laetitia are fine and all, but they sometimes get really boring. Constantly telling yourselves that you’re superior to everyone gets very tiring, and I set this mystery up for my own amusement. Case closed.”

“Well,” Mena said, as she watched the night fall from the sky. The sky was as black as ink. “Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can walk to the writer’s table. It’s a simple plan, but it’s clear that you guys have love on your minds. So, let’s start with that.”

Two inaudible noises came from Janus and Ashlan, who were both knee-deep in their own love problems. Mena smiled to herself. Even if she was in a parallel world, it seemed the same old school drama followed her everywhere.

The next day, the trio, along with Chad made their way to New Brushwick’s Castle Town, where their eyes fell on a sordid sight. Around the fountain in the village square, many men and women in torn noble dresses and suits were rocking back and forth in fetal positions. They were muttering things such as “How do I make lunch?” and “How can I pay bills?” and even “How do I get through this thing called life?” They all looked haggard and helpless, with a nihilistic disposition.

“This is what’s became of the rich people without their magic brushes…” Chad remarked and held his head in shame. “Last night sis told me about them, but they look even worse in person.”

Upon seeing the visitors with their color, the former nobles staggered towards them with a glazed look in their eyes. “Color. Give us our color back.”

“Wow,” Janus remarked, pushing a particularly crazed woman off her. “It’s like the blockbuster fiction: Night of the Living Aristocrats.”

“Let’s blow this creepy square and test our Flat Kingdom theory,” Ashlan said, as they hustled away.

Fortunately, the nobles didn’t give chase, they only moaned in sorrow. Mena quickly called back as they ran away. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you your color back. I promise.”

Running to the edge of the town gates, a fancy signpost stood. It pointed to all realms in the kingdom, but one caught Mena’s eye. “End of the world…do not enter,” she read, and pointed in the direction. “Well, we know where to go…”—Mena let out a sob.

“What’s wrong,” Ashlan and Janus both asked, Ashlan, ever hoping to score brownie points, put her hand on Mena’s shoulder.

“If May were here,” Mena sniffed, and rubbed her eyes. “She’d tell us not to go there.”

“There there,” Ashlan said, patting her on the back. “You may have lost your common sense, but hopefully it’s only temporary.”

Janus’ narrowed her eyes at Ashlan, “Not sure if that’s an insult to us or May, but…”

Mena step forward, interrupting Janus and balling her fist up at the sign. “Everything we do now, we do for May. She will always be our common sense.”

They walked further, heading into a clearing of woods. Though it was only the afternoon, darkness had draped over everything, and the further they went the darker it got. They eventually reached a grove where the darkness had deliberately gotten so thick that it blocked them from seeing any further. “Seems this is the edge of the forest,” Mena shivered, “Anyone want to go into deep darkness and see if you can reach the writer’s room?”

Ashlan and even Chad wore uncertain expressions. Ashlan fidgeted. “Who knows what’s beyond this…What if we don’t come back?”

“Aww,” Mena smiled, and put her hand on Ashlan’s back, causing the lioness to blush bright red. “You’re starting to sound like May.”

Janus stepped to the front of the party. “You know what? I’ll go”

“That’s surprisingly brave of you, dead lady,” Chad Abber remarked, her fingers crossed. “No one, and I mean no one in this kingdom has ever ventured beyond the deep darkness.”

Janus’ pale, undead sheen tainted pink, and she giggled, “Of course. Darkness is merely a friend you can’t see. It’s never done me wrong. I’ll let you know as soon as I reach the end.”

Everyone looked on with worry as Janus marched into the veil of shadows. Fifteen minutes passed with everyone waiting with baited breaths. A loud shriek rang out through the woods, and everyone jumped. “AHA!”

Janus emerged from the thicket of darkness, her eyes closed, and a big smile on her face. There was a curious pink basket in her hands. “I’ve found the end…of the huh?”

“Janus?!” Ashlan screamed with her fangs and claws out, “What are you doing here? You scared Mena and Chad half to death.”

Chad let out another zombie-like groan. “Oh sorry,” Ashlan said, laughing nervously.

“I dunno,” Janus said, opening her large purple eyes, “I thought I was getting deeper and deeper and suddenly, I’m right back where I started.”

“And what’s that basket you’re holding?” Mena asked, pointing at the peculiar straw-woven basket in her hands.

“Hmm,” Janus said, holding it up to her face. “Let’s see here”—she carefully read the note inside—”Dear Interlopers, You chose the most obvious, most cliched way of reaching your destination and predictably it failed. But at least you tried, and for that, I offer this complimentary gift basket. There’s nothing in it, much like your heads. Sincerely, The Ghost Writer.”

“Grrr…” Ashlan roared. “That Ghost Writer makes me so angry and it…”—Ashlan’s lion-esque nose sniffed—"What’s that smell?”

“Ooh they’re scented,” Mena said, “but what does it smell like?”

“Failure…” Ashlan said, balling her hands up into a fist.

A royal fanfare blasted from the village square as the heroes slunk their way back. Most of the homeless aristocrats had been pushed away by soldiers armed with brushes. A makeshift podium composed of cheap plywood had been installed in the square. Pigchard had mounted the platform dressed in a black general’s uniform. A wanted poster was displayed on the front of it, depicting badly drawn versions of the heroes. People gathered from all over to hear his royal decree.

“Snoik,” Pichard called out, trying to rise above the height of the podium. “The king has issued a warrant for the arrest of three color thieves and a cadaver. They are depicted here: A witch girl, a lion, a skeleton and a zombie.

Pigchard loudly removed a whip and cracked it loudly, drawing everyone’s attention further to him. “They look exactly like this…except they’re in color. They have stolen the color from our fair kingdom. It is a shame that we lack the colored markers to draw them properly on the wanted posters.

There was a rumble before Richard snoiked loudly again. “There will be a great reward for their heads. Some of his majesty’s finest jems. So, keep your eyes peeled for those with hues.”

Mena gasped as everyone turned around, searching for them. With their obvious color, they’d be found in seconds thought. “Quick,” she called out and she pointed at a nearby bar called, ‘The Pig’s Rear.’

“Into this bar,” Mena cried. “He won’t look here. They probably serve pork.”

As soon as they entered the bar, everyone from every table stared at the only people left with any pigment to their bodies.

From behind the bar, the pudgy cook with his five-o-clock shadow covered double chin and hairnet accosted the four with very questionable words.

“Oy, are you curiously-colored folks going to stand there gawking or are you going to order?”

There was a dead silence in the room. It was so silent, that only the sound of another chef slicing onions in the back could be heard.

“Excuse me,” Ashlan said, pointing an accusatory finger at the head cook. “I don’t think that’s the appropriate term for us. They oughta have your job for that.”

“Ok, I’m sorry, I take it back,” the chef said, sweat trickling down from his greasy hair. “To make up for it, your orders on the house.”

“That’s more like it!” Mena flashed a sheepish grin.

Two patrons at a nearby table whispered quietly to each other. A burly man with a braided beard sat across from a shrimpy blond man with a pony-tail and a tunic. “So,” the thin man said over his beer. “A lion, a witch, a skeleton and a zombie walk into a bar.”

“’old on mate” the burly man spoke over his beer. “ I think I ‘eard this one before.”

“It’s no joke,” the thin man responded, a greedy expression in his eyes. “They walked in now, and if we bring em in, the king will make us rich.”

The thin man drew his dagger and burly man whipped out the enormous axe that was strapped to his back. They barred the heroes from the door and approach Mena and her friends with sinister expressions. Cash and fame was the only thing on their minds.