Erin wanted a new job. Sure, she had retirement to look forward to in two decades, but for now there was only low pay and of course, the donkey. The donkey, the man explained, was named Destroyah, but he was a real sweetheart. Across the basketball court, the members of the Lagoe Police Department mounted their donkeys. An annual pastime at Lagoe High School. Donkey basketball: teachers versus police.

The goal was to raise money for the schools but Erin had never seen a cent. She'd only see a dwindling supply budget and a growing water spot on the ceiling, one peppered with mold the school board insisted wasn't poisonous.

Erin shouldn't have worn the tight jeans today, she realized. They look nice, but at what cost? She should have worn different clothes. Erin always struggled with finding her style. She felt jealous of Ry, who at one point in middle school figured out jeans and a graphic tee is all he would ever need. A style that will carry him into death. The teachers all wore the t-shirts with the school mascot emblazoned in it, a massive maneless lion rumored to stalk the woods around the town, known as The Wildcat Thicket.

Her principal clapped Erin on the back.

"You ready to ride?" She asked.

"Always down for a donkey show," Erin said.

"Stop calling it that!" the principal hissed.

"Not until you tell me how you know what a donkey show is!"

The kids and parents in the stands wore the school colors, black and orange, and had paper plates with smiley faces drawn on them worn on the back of their heads. An old tick a 19th century farmer figured out, one designed to trick the great lion.

Erin always thought they should have the devils as a mascot. Who doesn't love Bigfoot? Plus, no one has seen the lion in years. But Jackson claimed to see the devils on a daily basis. So he says. Erin has asked to see pictures and videos, but he refused. She even offered him higher rent or a night with Ry. Anything goes, she had told him. She swore Jackson hesitated on that last one, she almost had him.

There was a lot to take in for Erin. She would be riding a donkey before a cheering crowd of people who always voted to deprive their school of funding and ranted against the evils of Erin's profession at church.

That was enough. But the raffle for an AR-15, the gun of choice for nine out of ten school shooters, was a lot. Plus, the presence of the police, who would undoubtedly duck into the bushes should that AR-15 be turned on the kids.

Erin was astounded that the smell of the literal barnyard animal couldn't mask the musk of sweaty teenagers and kids packed into the bleachers. The buzzer screamed. Let the horrors begin.

The game was basically riding a donkey around the court and trying to sink a few baskets, but Erin just concentrated on not falling off. The donkey would stand idle, then burst forward before stopping suddenly.

"I love you Destroyah, why are you doing this?" Erin asked, gripping the donkey's neck. Eventually, the final buzzer sounded and Erin felt gross, sweaty, and free. Destroyah was an asshole, but Erin survived.

The game was done. The bleachers were barely packed, even with the whole school present. Erin read online that Lagoe was classified as a disappearing town, a ghost town in the making. With fifty students grades six through twelve, the transformation wouldn't take long. The main street to the school was lined with buildings that had been empty for forty years.

While parents and kids filed out of the gym, Erin caught an elderly woman watching her. Erin glanced around, no, her back was to the gym wall. The woman was looking at her, and only her. She was older, yes, but she also dressed like she escaped from another era, wrapping herself in a shawl on a burning summer day.

Unsure of how to respond, Erin waved. The woman inhaled a breath, then lowered her head and shuffled away.

Erin grabbed the arm of a passing student.

"Sheralyne, you know weirdly everything about this town. See that woman in the shawl? Who is that?"

"Oh. She's a witch. Ageless and eternal, she is."

"Oh Jesus, Sheralyne," another student said. "She sells moonshine and weed, Erin."

"It's Mrs. Darson, Gayle."

She rolled her eyes. "See ya Monday, Erin."

"I hate kids," Erin said. "Why am I doing this?"

"You're scared of change. You'd rather burn under the sun than risk a shade not being the cool kiss you imagine."

"Go home, Sheralyne."

The gym emptied and Erin stood there, the cacophonous sounds of kids and adults giving way to a void. Ry knew this town, he'd grown up here. Erin only moved here recently with him, when things took a dive. But the woman, Erin thought. She looked like she knew me.