When Jinn had finished, a silence descended over the group. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

"That's an interesting story," Chay said. "But what's that got to do with us?"

"We were chasing a blue butterfly," David said. "I remember watching the driver turn down a dirt road to follow it. You threatened to kill him, Chay."

Chay raised one eyebrow, but didn't deny it. "I don't know why we had to have a human driver instead of a computer," he muttered.

"So that means your story is true, Jinn?" Steven asked. "Was it the same butterfly?"

"Partially true," Jinn answered. "I changed some events around from the way it really happened."

"But what happened after that?" K. J. Gillenwater said. "For some reason I can't remember."

Everyone, in turn, acknowledged the same loss of memory.

"Where are we?" Amber asked.

"Blasted cell phone," Jesse said, giving the device a withering stare. "Anyone else have reception?"

Several minutes passed as the authors furrowed their brows and poked at their cell phones. To no avail.

"I suppose the easiest way to figure out where we are is to go outside," Nancy suggested.

The group got up and made their way to the entrance, a heavy door surrounded by crystal panes that let sparkling refracted light in from the outside. Jesse reached it first, as she was the closest. She twisted the knob and tugged, letting in a variety of smells: sea water, wisteria, and something more.

"Do I smell car exhaust?" Kristin asked. "Is there a vehicle running out there?"

There wasn't. Jesse stepped outside, stumbling as her foot caught on the patch of woven reeds that served as a mat.

As soon as she was out, she gasped in horror. The rest of the assembled writers followed behind her, more curious than worried by Jesse's reaction. A few pushed and shoved, but most carried themselves with decorum. In a short time, everyone could see the terrible sight.

The porch was bare of furnishings, but for a single chair. A body sat upon it, rocking in the breeze. Despite the withered, ash colored skin, the eyes still glittered. Acid green, and bright, like little balls of hard lime candy. Raven hair trailed from the woman's head like a patch of night, swirling in the small gusts of wind. In the distance, gulls cried.

"Is she dead?" K. J. asked.

Jesse inched forward and put her fingers to the woman's neck. "Yup."

There were mutterings of sympathy and a whispered prayer or two from the authors.

Steven poked at a pile of leaves. "Hey," he said. "Do you see that?" He stooped and picked up a box wrapped in red foil, unmistakably a container for chocolates. He opened the card taped to the front. "Chocolates for my sweet. From Charlie," he read.

"Thank goodness," Chay said. "I'm starving." There was an edge of desperation in his tone that caused several of the authors to look worriedly in his direction.

Steven wasn't one of them. Oblivious, he tugged at the cover off the box.

"Wait!" Jesse cried. "Close that at once. Eating that candy would be a grave mistake. It's--it's not healthy."

"How do you know, Jesse?" Chay asked, moving closer to the box like a shark closing in on a wounded tuna.

"Seems to be stuck anyway," Steven said.

"Because I wrote a story about this once. I pretended it was fiction but well--it wasn't. Not entirely."

"Like my butterfly story," Jinn said.

A hush fell over the group. Even the dead woman on the rocking chair seemed attentive.

"It all started," Jesse said. "With a box of chocolates..."