The future is what you want it to be

Chapter One

Denise’s heart pounded a rhythm of triumph against her ribs. One year. One relentless, ambition-fueled year since tossing her graduation cap in the air, and now, it was hers. The promotion to Director of Architecture and Design at Sky View Designs Miami wasn’t just a new title; it was the gleaming key to the life she’d dreamed into existence. She practically floated, imagining the look on her fiancé’s face, already anticipating the intimate, irreplaceable gift only he could bestow in celebration. That promotion was her one-way ticket, a shimmering portal from the sprawling, exhausting familiarity of Los Angeles to the vibrant, beckoning future of Miami.

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Candace was nervous to show her boss the opening to the short story he’d requested. For nearly seven years, she’d worked at Link Publishing in New York, a tenure that had afforded her a small, independent life in the city. Despite things "not being bad," a deep yearning for more persisted. She craved a promotion, an apartment with more than one room, and real neighbors.

"I don't really know about this story," Jim said, his voice flat. "Are people in this day and age really going to be inspired by getting a work promotion? If you get a work promotion, you still have to work, right? That sucks. But I'll give it a chance, I guess," Jim conceded.

"Well, thanks. You will not be disappointed," Candace asserted.

"Jeez, Candy, don't make promises you can't keep," Jim snorted, a smirk playing on his lips, "Speaking of not being disappointed, I need you to go to Malibu with Brent Fry for a few days. I will pay you $5,000. Brent Fry is such a good guy, I think he would love you, and you’d have a nice time and do a good job.”

Candace had some apprehension about going, but before she could voice it, a “yes” escaped her luscious lips. And just like that, Candace was going to Malibu with Brent Fry.

Jim was a good boss. His father had owned Link Magazine for fifty years, his father dreamed of Jim taking over the company one day. Jim dreamed of being a doctor, even gaining acceptance to a prestigious medical school.

One stormy January night, a heated argument with his then-girlfriend shattered his future. She was a beautiful model. She'd stormed out of Jim's apartment and, in a tragic turn, slipped down thirteen flights of stairs and died. A neighbor had claimed to witness Jim push her. Jim spent seven agonizing months in jail until his name was cleared by security camera footage, which showed her leaving and falling alone.

Despite being exonerated, the incident cost him his medical school acceptance. For six years, he tirelessly applied to medical schools, only to be denied. His medical aspirations finally died with a DUI conviction. Facing disinheritance and the sale of his family's company for pennies, Jim had no choice but to take the reins.

During the pandemic, when Link Publishing faced collapse, he single-handedly revolutionized the company, making LINK Magazine accessible across all social media platforms and websites. He saved his family's legacy.

Candace always noticed a framed picture of a beautiful, red-haired model on his office desk. Candace assumed it was the woman from his tragic past. She'd only learned fragments of Jim's tragic story; she’d never ask details.

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Chapter Two

Denise practically bounced into her apartment, but a sudden chill pricked her skin. Something felt off the moment she stepped inside. The first thing she noticed was a solitary mug on the coffee bar. As her eyes scanned the room, the absence of her boyfriend’s belongings became starkly apparent. Then, her gaze landed on the note.

It read:

Denise, I know you cheated on me, I’m leaving. It was nice to know you, and even nicer to call you mine, but there’s no future for us. Even if you had come clean and told me right off the bat, I still wouldn't be able to call you mine.

-Carl

P.S. Delete my number. I don’t have anything of yours, and you don’t have anything of mine. This is it, Denise. I know you got promoted already, I think this makes for a clean break. Or maybe you can take the neighbor, John; he’s the one who told me everything.

Denise had cheated on John. Everything in the note was true. But she loved Carl, and never wanted their relationship to end like this!

Denise decided she would pack a bag and stay elsewhere until she could officially leave and start her new life in Florida. Just as she was about to pull her suitcase from the closet, she heard a knock on the door.

It was John. Denise wasted no time. Her hand connected with his face in a resounding slap, Shard he crumpled to the floor, a trickle of blood appearing from his nose. She didn't know she could hit someone that hard, and she felt no remorse. She simply grabbed her suitcase and stepped over him, letting the wheels roll deliberately over his outstretched fingers.

The next day, to her surprise, her boss immediately signaled for her to join him.

"Denise," he began, "I need you to leave a little earlier than I originally thought. Earlier than what would normally be humanly possible. Do you think you could leave this weekend and start Monday?"

Denise's jaw nearly hit the floor. “Anything for you!”

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"Not too bad for a morning's work," Candace mused aloud as her boyfriend rose from the bed nestled right beside her desk.

"Do you think you could keep it down a little bit, Candace?" Tom grumbled.

"Do you want to read my story?" Candace asked.

"Maybe when I wake up. Why aren't you at work, by the way?"

"I'm working from home."

"Lucky me."

"You could go home?" Candace couldn't bring herself to say it, but Tom, her "boyfriend," had been crashing at her place for the past six weeks because he’d been evicted.

"I'm going to Florida next week, and I'd like you to be gone when I get back," Candace declared. She hadn't planned on saying that, but seeing him sprawled in her bed in stained, too-tight gray boxers, she just knew. She wanted him gone. Yet again, the words just left her lips without seeming to take the time to be her own.

"Please, Candace, can we talk about this?"

"No, I don't really want to," she replied. "I’m going on a work trip for 5 days. I know that’s not a lot of time, but it should be enough to find something.”

“You know I got kicked out?”

“Well, I knew you didn’t have a real place to stay, Tom,” said Candace.

“I’ll miss you,” said Tom.

“Alright,” said Candace.

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Chapter Three

Denise quickly fell into her new life. She’d turn any room into the lavish dream the rich customers craved. The architecture part of the firm hadn’t even opened yet, and the new Miami firm had already out-earned the LA firm, and behind it was all Denise.

She hadn't heard from Carl, but she’d been on some fancy dates. One guy was a neurosurgeon and took her on a private helicopter ride around Dolphin Bay. They made out right on the harbor. She went on a date with an athlete who let her drive his fancy red sports car.

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Candace got to Malibu a few days before the author. She was able to set up a special stand for him at the coffee shop. She made a few reels that were posted on the LINK Magazine Instagram. Two days before the event, Candace was surprised to wake up early to a call from Jim.

“Candace, you are a genius!”

“Um, why?” asked Candace.

“The Instagram party invitation you sent out has already gotten 15k RSVPs!”

Before Candace could say anything, words left her mouth that again, did not feel like her own.

“Oh, Jim, thank you for not being mad. I just knew it was going to be a good idea.”

Candace was confused. She would never thank Jim for not being mad at her. Sometimes Candace just blurted things out because of her ADHD. This was something speaking for her. But the words, the voice, were all hers. To add a layer of confusion, Candace had never set up an event like this; she didn’t even know how to.

When it was time to pick up Brent Fry, Candace scanned the airport. When she finally spotted him, her breath hitched. He was gorgeous, with long black hair kissed with streaks of silver and a smile that looked like it could warm any room. He carried a computer case and a backpack.

He noticed Candace before she could say anything.

"You must be Candace," Brent said.

"Um, yes, I am!" she replied.

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Chapter Four

Denise, in the midst of getting her makeup done for a debate on The Kelly Clarkson Show, felt a familiar tingle. She was about to argue against the use of gray in interior design. Focused on her career and making money, she'd forgotten to eat that day. The tingle, which she usually ignored as just "her legs," spread quickly, numbing both legs before racing up her spine. In moments, she was on the floor, convulsing.

Instead of the debate of a lifetime, Denise found herself in a red and yellow ambulance, lights blaring, en route to the hospital. Paramedics and a producer spoke around her, but their words were a jumble she couldn't comprehend. She lay there helplessly, praying for someone to save her as she was rushed to the hospital.

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The signing/opening couldn't have gone any better if Candace had spent two weeks just dreaming and every one of those dreams had come true. All the guests were respectful. Coffee never got cold. The scones were always sweet. The author’s hand never got tired of signing.

“Candace, I love you much!” Jim yelled when Candace answered the phone.

“I love you too,” said Candace, automatically.

“Alright, Candace, not really, but you are doing a great job! Such a good job, in fact, that Brent Fry has asked you to arrange a book signing tour!”

“YES!” yelled Candace, though the words felt foreign.

“And when you get back, we can discuss your role here at Link Magazine. Maybe you are ready for a bigger role here at Link Magazine, and your short story is incredible! I'm invested finally in seeing what happens to Denise. Give me a sneak peek: does she live or does she die?”

“You will see!” said Candace.

Just as Candace was hanging up with Jim, she heard a knock on her door. She wasn't expecting anyone and she hadn't ordered any room service, a knock was completely out of the blue. Unsurprisingly though, it was Brent Fry.

He arrived at her hotel room door and asked if she’d spoken to Jim yet. When she told him that she had and she had agreed, he nearly burst out of excitement. He told her, "Because of you, I am going to be the next New York Times bestseller. I’m going to have a relationship with my fans that most authors only dream of. Candace was not expecting a kiss. Especially in a professional setting like this, a simple "thank you" would have more than sufficed, but when he kissed her, she kissed him back. They made out for about five minutes before taking the session to the bedroom.

When Candace woke up that morning, she did not feel an ounce of shame. Brent and Candace were supposed to return to New York that day, but Brent had convinced Jim to let them stay an extra day to take pictures for the social media account to announce the new tour. But really, they were just in bed all day and through the night that followed.

When they did finally get back to New York, Brent made Candace promise to get the tour started quickly they could spend many more evenings wrapped around each other. Brent and Candace separated from each other with Brent going to the Upper City and Candace retreating to the Lower. Just as Candace was stepping onto the street, someone pushed her right into a big old yellow taxi. She was rushed to the hospital.

When she woke up, she was in a room alone. No hooks, no wires attached to her. Candace thought that was strange. She was confused. She called for help, but no one answered. She walked through the hospital, mostly just looking for another soul. Down a dark hallway, she saw light. Feeling like she had no other option, she ran. And when she stopped, she saw someone laying in a room. They were also in a bed but had no wires or anything attached to them.

It was the blonde woman with bouncy hair and a bouncy chest. For a minute, Candace thought that she looked how she would have thought Denise would look if she was alive. It was at that moment that the woman rose up from the bed.

"That's because I am Denise."

"How can you be Denise? Denise is not real. I wrote Denise. She's my fictional character!"

"I know. I guess I'm not Denise. But I've taken the idea and the spirit of Denise.”

“Who are you really?”

"You don't know my name, but your boss does. I am Kassie."

"Kassie, I know your story."

"I know you know my story. I stay in Jim's office, and I watch him."

"Why couldn't you just come back as you?"

“Candace, I’ve been watching you for years, People on Earth don't always know this, but ideas have spirits of their own. When I heard your idea to design a story about a bombshell like Denise, I had to possess the spirit, and I made everything that you wrote in Denise's story happen in your own life,” said Kassie,

“How?” asked Candace.

“Well, that's the hard part,” said Kassie. “I've done it by taking some of your power and using it as my own. That is why you've not felt like some of your words were your own at times. That's because they're mine. You're welcome.” Snickered Kassie.

“Well, what happens now?” asked Candace nervously. “Did you read the last chapter?”

“I did, and we aren't going to fight it out,” assured Kassie.

“I couldn’t control everything you did. I could only watch as you wrote the end to our partnership. I enjoyed helping you, but it came at a cost. Every time I spoke for you, a bit of you was lost. It's good that you wrote in the story the way that you did because it's been my time to go for a while, The portal to heaven can only stay open so long, and mine is closing, and once it's closed, it'll never reopen. If I hope to see Jim again, I must go soon. ButI just can't go until Jim is okay.”

“ Did you bring me here so I could tell you something to Jim for you?”

“Get a pen and a paper, and just relax. Once I'm done, you won't see me again, but please make sure this letter ends up in Jim's office. I need you to write it because ghosts are not able to hold on to anything, but I am able to take control of your body for a few minutes and write in my own handwriting for Jim.

“I guess, but we are both in the hospital…”

Just as Candace voiced her confusion, a shiver ran through her. Not from the chill of the hospital, but a deep, internal tremor. The vision of Kassie, solid just moments ago, began to waver at the edges,

“Hey babe, wake up,” said Brent

“Where are we?” said Candace, disoriented, her head still throbbing with the echo of a distant world.

“Did you drink too much? I thought you only had one drink. We are in Malibu.”

Candace looked at the clock. It was January 7th, 7:00 a.m. She was hit on January 7th at 2:00 p.m. Somehow she had woken up before she had gotten hit. As she was about to lay down to think about her dream, she felt an overwhelming sensation to get up and write. She closed her eyes. Before she knew it, a page had filled up, with the top saying

Dear Jim,

I am sorry for how things ended between us. You were the love of my life, and I wanted to marry you. I just get so mad sometimes. I wish I would have taken your advice and gotten anger management , but I didn't, and it's too late. It's not too late for you. It is a harsh truth that you will never be a doctor, but you have to remember that everything happens for a reason, and because you are not a doctor, you are a magazine executive. You have the opportunity to reach millions of people and fill their brains with knowledge and resilience, to make them better. I am waiting for you, but until the day we are together again, please move on and be happy. Find someone to share your time on Earth with. You deserve it, and it's time.

Kassie

"Wait, but Kassie, what do I do without you?" Candace whispered, the words barely audible, expecting no one to answer. She held the letter, the tangible proof of a purpose that had just been handed to her from beyond the veil. The line between fiction and reality, between Kassie and Denise, between life and spirit, had blurred irrevocably. Candace knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her real story had only just begun. A piece of her given to Kassie, and a piece of Kassie given to Candace, all came at a price, a tiny sliver of herself given over to bring another's story closure, all for a letter needing to be stuck on good old Jim's desk.