Epilogue
The Enchanting Tales of an Otherwise Ordinary Day
The black SUV eased to the curb beneath the glow of the city's skyline.
Rain had fallen earlier.
The streets still shimmered beneath ribbons of neon.
The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
"Home, Ms. Bower."
Tess smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
She stepped onto the sidewalk.
Her phone vibrated.
She didn't have to look.
She already knew.
Simon Says: Welcome home.
Dismiss.
She slipped the phone into her purse.
The doorman hurried to greet her.
"Good evening, Ms. Bower."
She barely acknowledged him.
Another vibration.
Simon Says: How does freedom feel?
Dismiss.
The revolving door carried her into polished marble and warm light.
People looked up from the lobby.
Some smiled.
Some whispered.
Everyone knew who she was.
A framed magazine cover hung beside the concierge desk.
FORTUNE
THE TESS TOUCH
The photograph showed Tess standing atop a skyscraper with her arms folded, looking beyond the camera as though she could already see tomorrow.
Another vibration.
Simon Says: Tell me a story.
Dismiss.
She never opened the message.
The elevator climbed.
Floor after floor.
Until finally...
Penthouse.
The doors slid open.
Silence greeted her.
She kicked off her heels.
Dropped her purse onto the marble island.
Set Enchanting Tales of an Otherwise Ordinary Day carefully upon the kitchen counter.
Not tossed.
Placed.
Like something sacred.
The apartment overlooked the entire city.
Glass walls.
Designer furniture.
Original artwork.
Awards.
Plaques.
Magazine covers.
Everything she'd ever wanted.
Almost.
She poured herself a generous glass of wine.
Didn't bother changing clothes.
Instead she crossed immediately to the book.
It was already calling.
She opened it.
A story began.
There once lived an elegant boy who folded himself into paper...
She frowned.
Elegant.
Paper.
Paper...
Her eyes drifted toward the folded Wall Street Journal lying beside the book.
She picked it up.
The headline caught her immediately.
ELEGANT PAPER ANNOUNCES INTERNATIONAL ACQUISITION
A slow smile spread across her face.
"I knew it."
She reached for her phone.
Already calculating.
Already investing.
Already winning.
The seasons turned.
Magazine covers multiplied.
Television interviews.
Awards.
Boardrooms.
Fortunes made before lunch.
People called her brilliant.
Visionary.
The woman with the golden touch.
They never asked how she always knew.
Nights belonged to the book.
Days belonged to the world.
Wine bottles emptied.
Prescription bottles multiplied.
One pill to sleep.
Another to wake.
Another to focus.
Another to quiet the noise.
Every evening...
The book.
Every morning...
Success.
Until...
The stories changed.
The clues no longer leapt from the page.
Connections became harder to find.
She reread paragraphs.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The words blurred.
Letters drifted across the paper like insects upon water.
Some mornings she realized dawn had arrived...
...and she hadn't learned a single thing.
She turned another page.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
She rubbed her eyes.
The ink refused to stay still.
She whispered the words aloud.
They sounded wrong.
Like reading a language she almost remembered.
She slammed the book shut.
"No."
She opened it again.
Still nothing.
The stories had gone quiet.
She carried the book to the safe.
Placed it beside the black-handled knife.
Locked them both away.
The city slept.
Tess did not.
She poured another glass of wine.
Crossed the apartment barefoot.
Stopped.
A penny rested upon the kitchen island.
She stared.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
She looked toward the living room.
Someone sat quietly in the darkness overlooking the city.
"You've been busy."
His voice hadn't changed.
Only...
Everything else had.
"Penny Man."
He nodded once.
She scoffed.
"Grant."
"Penny Man."
She sighed.
"Fine."
She took a slow drink.
"You're the one still killing people."
She leaned against the counter.
"And why pennies?"
A bitter laugh.
"They stopped making those."
Penny Man looked out across the skyline.
"Currencies change."
A long pause.
"Stories don't."
Silence.
Finally...
He turned toward her.
"I'm here for the book."
She laughed.
"No."
He stood.
She hurled the wineglass.
It shattered against the wall behind him.
He never flinched.
She ran.
The safe recognized her fingerprint.
The heavy door clicked open.
Inside rested the book.
A small velvet pouch.
The black-handled knife.
She reached for the knife.
Steel flashed.
Penny Man was faster.
Her own blade slid cleanly across her throat.
Her fingers never touched the handle.
She collapsed beside the open safe.
Blood spread slowly across polished hardwood.
Penny Man knelt.
He removed the book first.
Then...
The velvet pouch.
He loosened the drawstring.
Two old pennies rolled gently into his palm.
He stared at them.
A very long time.
"...She kept them."
Carefully...
He placed one upon her left eye.
Then the other.
Upon her right.
He laid the knife beneath the small statue of the Weeping Willow that sat upon her desk.
Its stone branches forever frozen in mourning.
Then he opened the book.
The final pages were blank.
He dipped the knife into the pool of Tess's blood.
Held the blade above the first empty page.
The tip touched paper.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Morning light slowly filled the apartment.
The city awakened.
Penny Man never hurried.
He wrote until there were no blank pages left.
Then he closed the book.
A lonely hill overlooked the waking city.
Simon stood waiting.
Walking stick planted firmly in the earth.
Penny Man approached.
Held out the book.
Simon accepted it with a smile.
He gently brushed a thumb across its worn cover.
"Anything... enchanting?"
Penny Man said nothing.
Simon chuckled.
"I rather thought not."
He looked toward the endless skyline.
"So much wealth."
A sigh.
"So much power."
He held the book beneath one arm.
"They so rarely ask better questions."
A long silence.
Then...
"There is a man..."
Simon smiled to himself.
"...who can fly."
Penny Man waited.
"Only while he sleeps."
Simon pointed toward the city.
"Go."
"Ask him to visit me."
Penny Man disappeared down the hill.
Simon remained.
Below him...
Millions of lights.
Millions of ordinary lives.
Millions of stories.
He watched them with something almost resembling affection.
"I wonder..."
The wind carried his words away.
"...how they'll learn the truth."
He turned toward the city.
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Come."
He took one step forward.
"Let me show you."
The End
Around the fire
Join the conversation.
Reader comments appear only after T. G. Bonfire approves them. That keeps this space thoughtful, human, and free of noise.