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"So weird to hit plot beats that I've been looking forward to for over a decade. Thanks for reading and following along with my story, everybody! Please consider supporting Paranatural on Patreon and Ko-fi! It lets me keep the lights on."

"Also PETAL CRASH 2 is almost in early access! You can check it out on September 29th. If you missed the original Petal Crash, it's an incredible puzzle game made by my friend Ashley, and I wrote its story mode's dialogue. Petal Crash 2 will eventually include the first game's story mode with a fresh coat of graphical paint, so keep an eye out for it, especially if you haven't played the original! Consider wishlisting Petal Crash 2 on Steam! Thank you!"

"Down in the Detention Fortress prison yard, a duel raged on while Isabel’s audience adjusted to their supernatural status quo’s most recent disruption.        “It’s not fair that Johnny gets to be a spectral too,” Max griped to a still-dumbstruck Isaac. “I had to grind for this view.”        Max gestured to a largely motionless Isabel acting casual while fiercely fighting off the Sphinx of Lies with six red phantom limbs.        “...Huh? Wuzzat? Who’s a special?” Johnny asked in a daze.        He was still reeling from the feeling of his fist making contact with something he’d been certain was a ghost. Clearly, though, it wasn’t: it was something real and tangible, which was the opposite of what ghosts were.        Max sighed and psychologically prepared himself to use small words for once.        “Listen to me, Johnny: ghosts aren’t real.”        Johnny blinked at him, impressed that Max had somehow read his mind just like an open pop-up picture book. Even he was frequently distracted by its funny shapes and colors, and unable, therefore, to parse the deeper meaning of its text.        “Yeah, I know,” the bewildered bully was able to say, since Johnny now had proof that ghosts were definitely real.        “What? Wait, wait, uh, no.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose as Isabel punched the sphinx’s and endured his savage counterblow. She and Max were definitely facing equally difficult challenges, fighting on two fronts in the same battle against the power of the same pernicious foe. “You understand what I’m trying to say.”        “Yeah, I do,” said Johnny. “Could you Activity Shlubs see these freaky purple boogers this whole time? What are they, like, frickin’ aliens or somethin’?”        “YES!” Max exclaimed in frustration. He’d failed to back out of the Sphinx of Lies’ sphere of influence thanks to Pompom’s decree about moonwalking.        “Dude... Stephen’s gonna lose his mind,” Johnny whispered in wonder, unknowingly prognosticating a bright future for his buddy’s mental health.        “Wait,” Max grumbled. “Does this mean that when I said it’s not fair that you get spectral powers it was, like, an objectively untrue statement?! Who gets to decide THAT? I did grind for this view! HEY! It’s not easy to get locked in a closet and then get attacked by a big, nasty bat! HEY!!”         Max shook his fist at the heavens, not knowing that kids got locked in the closet all the time at Bayview Biddle School, and not considering that he himself attacked his enemies with a big, nasty bat rather frequently. He’d also failed to factor in that vampires were real, and that they’d made big, nasty bat attacks a common hazard for the citizens of Bayview. Max was being ignorant and insensitive about the unseen struggles of his neighbors, overlooking them simply because they were nocturnal surprise attacks concealed by the machinations of a shadowy cabal, and clearly needed to reflect on how he could exhibit greater empathy.        “You’re editorializing!” Max complained to an uncaring universe. “I deserve credit for my courage! HEY!!! DUDE, WHAT THE HECK?!”        “You’re the bravest beast in the Biddle School, boss,” said a bully in Max’s newly formed Detention Fortress entourage. His loyal admirers had decided that his incoherent rambling was a sign that he was wacky like the Joker, which was awesome and deserving of unquestioning subservience.        Max tried to tell the gaggle of bullies he’d gathered that this huddle was none of their business, that he didn’t need paparazzi, and that they all could just buzz off for all he cared, but instead turned to them and with equal intensity stated “My struggles and triumphs are yours. I need you, so stay by my side.”        “YES, BOSS!!” his awestruck minions barked in unison.         “Wait!” cried a bully whose craggy cheeks shone with tough tears. “Boss, what’s your name?? Who do we say we’re sworn to serve?!”        “I don’t have a name,” lied Max, and the dazzled crowd went absolutely wild.        Max cast a long-suffering look at Isaac.        “You hate me,” Isaac said to him, and then he smiled with exuberant relief.                “...I can handle this right now,” Max grumbled, which his new gang took as a boast that he was about to crush his rivals and lay claim to the Detention Fortress. They hooted and hollered behind Max as he stalked back towards the battle. “Listen, Johnny,” Max said as he passed him. “Whatever made you one of us, whatever questions you might have, whatever headaches this is gonna cause tomorrow... put all that aside.” Max considered his words carefully, accounting for the penchant of the multiverse to bully him. He had to get the half-true gist of what he meant to say across and make sure Johnny didn’t wade straight into spooky danger. “Johnny, I could win this fight with my eyes closed... so keep yours open and on me. You’ll understand what we’re about once you see me in action.” Max clapped a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “I trust you can stay out of trouble on the sidelines until this little scrap is over, and Johnny... I’m one-hundred percent glad to have you on the team with absolutely zero reservations whatsoever.”        “Oh, uh. Yeah. Thanks, bro,” Johnny mumbled. He scratched his head, suddenly itchy from embarrassment. Johnny didn’t really get what Max was saying, but he wanted to earn what the words made him feel, whatever this bizarre emotion was.        “THE DRAGON TAMER!!” Max’s minions cheered, and Johnny didn’t bother to correct them.        A brooding Isaac scowled at Johnny on his way to train his anger on the sneering Sphinx of Rules. There was only room for one spiky redhead in the Activity Club, Isaac spitefully thought to himself... and Johnny relied on the ARTIFICE of chemical pigments and hair gel to compete! Then a pang of guilt turned Isaac’s mind to everything he’d talked about with Isabel, and with Max and Doorman, too, and to how he’d felt when he was seeing shades for the first time way back in sixth grade. If the role of spiky redhead new guy was about to be recast... Isaac didn’t want to keep what could have been a kindred spirit at arm’s length.        “Hey,” Isaac muttered to Johnny. He’d allowed himself a slightly snooty pout.        “...Huh? Wassup?” Johnny asked. He’d been trying to squint the shifting purple phantoms back into focus. They hadn’t faded since the last time they had wavered into uncertain existence.        “...I need your help,” Isaac said. He nodded towards the peak of Pompom’s tower, where a slinking Sphinx of Rules hissed down at Isabel’s clash with his sibling.        Johnny blinked, looking briefly confused, but then an eager grin unfurled across his face.        “What am I punchin’?” Johnny asked, and Isaac’s pout, despite himself, became a subdued smile."

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Authority Metrics: Score 92/100

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