from Jonathan Pearce's Community Spirits: Infestations on the Spectral Plane
I saw Stara for the very first time when I was on my way to work as Associate Chief Boxperson at Mr. D. H. Carp's Groceries & Sundries. It was a gloomy Saturday morning, rain was forecasted, but it hadn't started yet. I was wearing my suave leather bomber jacket (a gift from Uncle Kosh), walking from home on Kuhl Way up First Avenue towards Front Street, so I walked by Balona Park, my usual route. I had just combed my hair and was thinking sort of erotic thoughts. Which was a nice change of pace from the headache I woke up with and that my little brother Richie gave me an aspirin to fix.
Stara was standing by a tree in the park, only a few feet away from the sidewalk. She was looking towards me and smiling. One of the things I noticed about her right away was how beautiful she was. She was beautiful. But also pale, like a glass of milk. Which is okay since I don't mind milk and drink it all the time. Only it's not a healthy look-color to be for an otherwise healthy looking female. Her body looked healthy enough, though, which is something a guy will usually check out. I also noticed she was dressed in a pale green friggly dress that went down to her ankles. Sort of old-fashioned looking, Patella would say. Also not very warm-looking, when the weather actually called for something substantial.
"Hello, young Mr. Kuhl," she went in sort of a hollow but beautiful voice. "Would you help me find my lost dog?"
Being a student of Criminal Justice, I had studied about the Lost Dog Scam, so I was alert to possible foul play. The Lost Dog Scam is where somebody, usually a pervert, will tell a kid, "Hey, will you help me find my little lost puppy?" Little kids like puppies and, being little and dumb, will go off into the bushes with the pervert and never be heard from again. So that was my first thought. Of course, Stara didn't look a whole lot like a pervert, being young and also beautiful and well-built.
"How come you know my name?" I went.
"I know all about you. Now, take my hand and let us begin our search, shall we?"
Her hand was not cool the way a normal beautiful girl's hand would be you met in the park. It was cold. So that gave me a clue that all was not quite normal about this beautiful girl. Or else that she really needed a sweater and gloves. Or both.
"You are going to catch a cold unless you put on something warm," I mentioned, thinking that maybe I might have to be a gentleman and offer her the wear of my leather bomber jacket.
"I never catch cold," she went in her beautiful voice, telling me news which was interesting and also a relief to hear.
We were moving steadily into the interior of Balona Park where the bigger trees and heavier bushes are. But that was okay, since Balona Park isn't much bigger than the new gym floor at Big Baloney which had to be rebuilt after last year's famous fire and the over-enthusiasm of the Balona Fire Brigade's hosemaster. You can see all the way through the park, from one side to the other.
I happened to notice that I couldn't see any traffic on Front Street or Third Avenue, or any people at all. Or hear any noises, except a faint sound of organ music in the background. I was alone with this beautiful girl in Balona Park. What an opportunity!
But what do you do with an opportunity like that when you don't have a lot of experience? What you do in Balona is fake it. "So, tell me before I bust from curiosity, what's your name and how come you were standing there?"
"My name is Stara and I was standing there waiting for you."
"Oh." This beautiful girl looked a little like Willow Runcible, since she had long pale yellow hair. I have a sort of tragic history with Willow, seeing as how she never actually became my girlfriend. "So, Stara, do you play the flute?" This is a suave conversational thing you use with girls with long hair, since it takes long hair to play the flute, I'm told. Claire Preene plays the flute like crazy and tosses her long blonde tresses while she plays.
"I play the harp," Stara went. This was another surprise, since I'd never met anybody who played the harp, but it might explain the cold fingers.
"It must be hard on the fingers to play harp."
"I do not feel anything but pleasure when I play. Let us search over here." And she pulled me over to where the camellia bushes were biggest and thickest. All of a sudden I realized there were bushes around us so we couldn't be seen from the street. This was either an opportunity or a hazard. I sort of waited to see what would happen before I had to figure out what to do.
"Doggie? Doggie?" she cried in a soft sweet voice. "I am so sad to have lost her."
"How did it happen? How did you lose Doggie? Is that her name? Doggie?"
"Yes and yes yet again. She was here not long ago. And then she was gone. Life is like that, is it not? Here today, gone tomorrow?"
"Yeh, it sure is." This was a philosophical girl, you could tell.