Day 225

[from The Ember Stone]

It did not take Erica long to locate the second of the Ember Shards. It had landed in one of the abandoned temples in the desert wastes, north of where she had encountered Jacob and Caerulea. She hoped that she wouldn't encounter any of Vaz'qui's minions at the temple, but she knew better than to let her guard down. If there were any enemies waiting for her at the temple, she'd be ready for them.

Being a powerful fire-wielder, Erica did not mind the scorching heat of the desert; in fact, she felt her powers growing stronger with every step she took under the blazing sun. The sand, however, frustrated her to no end. Though she was able to cover her mouth, she could not stop the sand from getting into her eyes, and after a while of blinking away tears of irritation, she had to resist the temptation to turn the entire desert to glass. "I should have brought goggles," she muttered to herself.

Finally, the temple became visible through the swirling sands, and Erica knew she was finally close. Even at this distance, she could feel the Ember Shard's energy radiating from within the stone walls of the temple. It was a large temple, and no doubt filled with false passageways designed to make her lose her way, or traps that would somehow still be operative despite having lain dormant for centuries. Her own temple had been no different, after all. Even if she had managed to beat Vaz'qui and his minions here, she would still have to be very careful as she made her way through.

As she approached, Erica pondered which would be worse: the temple door being open, or the temple door being shut. If it was open, that would most likely mean she had not been the first to arrive. If it was shut, there might not be an easy way inside. She was thus both relieved and frustrated to find that it was shut tight, without a button or door handle in sight. "Now how am I supposed to get in…?" she wondered to herself.

Erica decided to try the simple "hidden switch" approach. She slowly started patting down the walls either side of the door, hoping that something would happen. As luck would have it, part of the wall suddenly sank beneath her hand, and as it did so the door shuddered and began to slowly rise up into the ceiling. Behind it lay a dimly-lit sandstone passageway, leading further in than she could make out. If someone had come here before her, they had left no obvious trace of themselves.

Cautiously, Erica proceeded through the entrance. Not three steps in, she felt a floor tile give way under her foot and instinctively dropped to the floor, expecting a sudden volley of arrows or perhaps a giant swinging pendulum. Instead, the front door promptly slammed shut, leaving her trapped inside the now pitch-black corridor. She was not concerned about the lack of light - she could create fire, after all - but she was concerned about how she was going to get back out of the temple, with the door now closed behind her. Maybe there's another exit here somewhere, she thought to herself. Or maybe I'll just have to glass the whole temple and smash my way out.

Igniting bright flames around both of her hands to light the way, Erica started to make her way through the temple, paying extremely close attention to her surroundings in case of any more traps. Every footstep was tentative, ready to draw her foot away in an instant if she felt the floor start to give way again. If there were any more traps, she managed to avoid them, and soon she found herself at an intersection, with corridors leading off in four different directions.

Erica did not panic. Instead, she simply concentrated on the power resonating from the Ember Shard, trying to sense which direction it was coming from. "That way," she said after a moment, pointing down the third corridor from the left. She continued onwards down that corridor, but remained vigilant. There was no telling what other traps lay in store.

Through the firelight, Erica suddenly made out a series of holes in the walls either side of her. The good-old-fashioned arrow trap. Not today, she thought to herself. Suddenly abandoning her cautious attitude, she sprinted forwards and, as she felt a floor tile give way under her, immediately unleashed a burst of fire in all directions. A hail of arrows burst forth from the holes only to be immediately knocked off course by the fiery explosion, spinning away and scattering harmlessly across the sandstone floor.

With the arrow trap successfully dodged, Erica continued on her way, and only a short time later she found herself in a small room. There was a small hole in the ceiling, and a bright ray of sunlight shone through, lighting up the immediate area. At the bottom of the sunbeam lay the second of the Ember Shards, glittering scarlet amongst the gloom. There were no traps guarding it; it simply lay there, ready for the taking. "Too easy," she said with a grin, as she stepped forward to retrieve it.

"That's far enough, Ember Guardian!"

Erica froze, one hand already reaching out to grasp the Ember Shard. "Shoulda known," she muttered to herself. Snatching up the stone, she straightened up and turned round to face the interloper. She had short, spiky emerald-green hair, and wore a knee-length brown dress with white detailing. Erica could guess at once who this woman was. "I really shoulda known," she muttered. "Viridia, isn't it?"

"That's 'Viridia, Mistress of the Earth' to you!" retorted the woman with a grin.

"In that case," said Erica, "you'll have to call me 'Erica, Guardian of the Ember Stone, who also got here before you'." She waved the Ember Shard at Viridia, grinning confidently.

"You getting here first means diddly squat," said Viridia. "I'm here now too, and this is the desert: my domain. You're not getting out of her alive, Erica, and that Ember Shard is mine!"

"Firstly, even if you do somehow take it from me - and you won't - it'd be Vaz'qui's, not yours," Erica began. "And secondly…" Clutching the Shard tightly in her hand, Erica assumed a combat stance. "-you're forgetting that the Ember Stone increases my power. Just this one Shard gives me enough power to fry you alive. So bring it on, bitch. I'm more than ready for you."

"We'll see about that!" said Viridia, and with a wave of her hand she sent the entire ceiling crashing down towards Erica.

Day 224

[from StarLight]

Sanae's parents had decided to surprise her with a visit one afternoon. It was five o'clock as they arrived at the house, so they knew she would be home from school by now. They did not, however, expect to find their daughter fast asleep on the sofa, happily dreaming.

"Aww, look at her," said Sanae's mother. "All tuckered out from school."

"I'll go and bring her down some blankets, so she doesn't catch a cold," said Sanae's father.

Sanae's mother decided not to wake her daughter. Instead, she sat by her side and silently watched her sleep. Actually, it sounds kind of creepy when you put it like that, she suddenly thought to herself. I guess I shouldn't do that. Hmm… I wonder what happened today to make her so exhausted…

***

FIFTEEN HOURS EARLIER

"Sanae! Time to wake up!"

Sanae's eyelids slowly slid open in response to Kousen's quiet but shrill voice. She blinked drowsily, looking at the mentor with unfocused eyes. "What time is it?" she moaned groggily.

Kousen peered curiously at the digital alarm clock. "Two-hundred and fourteen," she said.

Sanae rolled over, pressing her face against the pillow. "I'm not waking up at two-fifteen in the morning," she mumbled.

"You have to," Kousen replied. "A monster has appeared on the edge of town, and it's your duty to fight it before it causes serious damage."

"I'm not fighting a monster at two in the morning," muttered Sanae. "I'm tired, and as an anime protagonist, I need my beauty sleep."

"What's more important, your beauty or the safety of Mitsuzawa's inhabitants?" asked Kousen indignantly. Sanae's response was to throw a pillow at the youkai's face. "Sanae-"

"You go fight it, if you’re so eager," mumbled Sanae.

With a weary sigh, Kousen seized Sanae's hand, which was dangling off the edge of the bed, and tried to pull her off. "You're fighting this monster," she stated, "and that's final."

"I'm not fighting it," retorted Sanae, "and that's final."

                                                                                                ***

"Time to let the… light of…" White Star's head lolled forwards and then promptly jerked back as she tried to stay awake. "Oh, what's the point of saying the catchphrase if there's no-one awake to hear me say it? I mean sure, there's the readers… all twelve of them…"

Having essentially been dragged out of bed by Kousen, Sanae had transformed into White Star, drowsily flown over to the suburbs (narrowly missing several tall buildings) and was about to confront the monster, a large black bird with a ten-foot wingspan, razor-sharp beak and flaming red eyes. "Well, I guess you're here too," White Star added bitterly, looking the bird in the eye, "but I doubt you give a damn."

The bird's response was a shrill cry, followed by a direct swoop right at White Star's head. White Star dropped down by about ten feet a split second before the bird's beak sliced through the air right where her head had been. "Be careful, Sanae!" shouted Kousen, watching as ever from the sidelines.

The bird circled round, preparing for another attack. "Don't worry," said White Star, "I got this." She lazily raised her wand, pointing roughly at the bird. "Star Shower!"

A series of glowing stars sprayed out of the end of the White Star Wand. Every single one missed, bouncing off a nearby skyscraper and dissipating. "Did I get it?" asked White Star, a second before the bird's beak slammed straight into her stomach, carrying her with it. "Nope. Didn't get it," she wheezed.

Other than being severely winded, Sanae was unharmed, but certainly none too pleased about being hit. "Alright," she growled, "now I'm tired, pissed off and in pain. Big mistake, feathers." White Star jammed the end of the wand into the side of the bird's head, and growled, "WHITE STAR BEAM!"

A blinding white light exploded in the night sky, and the monster was incinerated, its Black Heart falling to the street below. Sanae, carried by the bird's momentum and the force of the blast, was sent flying backwards, clutching the Emblem for dear life. Kousen caught her comfortably in mid-air. "Sanae, are you alright?"

White Star's head continued to gently sway back and forth as she tried to stave off her tiredness. "I think I… got 'em that time…" she mumbled. "Which way is bed? I need bed…"

Day 223

[from A Thousand Miles to San Francisco]

[AUTHOR NOTES: This is one of the most critical scenes in the entire novel. I want to get across the chaos and confusion that ensues after such a tragic event. Someday, if it's possible, I want to travel to Aurora and interview those who survived the shooting, as well as their loved ones, so I can get a sense of what it was truly like for them in the aftermath of the shooting. For now, this is merely my best guess.]

As luck would have it, Dawn was indeed being treated at the Medical Centre of Aurora, at its main campus on South Potomac Street. From what the operator had said, Samantha guessed that her friend was still alive, but she felt that she had to make sure. She hurried out into the driveway and got into her car, a blue 2004 Ford Focus. The roads were always fairly busy on Friday mornings, and it would probably be even worse today given what had happened, but Samantha was not concerned about this. All she was concerned about was Dawn, and whether she was okay.

It took Samantha about half an hour to drive to the hospital, with the traffic becoming worse and worse the closer she got. After all, she couldn't have been the only one who was headed to the hospital in search of their loved ones. Mercifully, there were still a few parking spaces available, and Samantha quickly pulled into the nearest one she could find. Her parking wasn't exactly straight, but again, she was not concerned about this. She had bigger things on her mind than parking etiquette.

Samantha got out of the car and hurried to the entrance, whereupon she found that the queue for the reception desk had been split into two. Presumably, one line was for those who were actually sick, and the other was for those who were only here to visit. Most of the chairs in the waiting area were also occupied. Samantha saw a man sitting there with his arm in a bloodied sling, and wondered whether he had been one of the victims of the shooting. Sitting nearby, she saw a woman, still wearing her dressing gown, sobbing uncontrollably as an orderly tried in vain to console her. It was a horrifying, morbid scene, one that Samantha had only ever seen in news footage before, and one that she had never expected to experience in real life.

Her solemn reflection was suddenly interrupted by a female nurse approaching her. "Excuse me," she asked. "Are you here to visit a casualty, or are you here for an emergency appointment?"

"I'm here to visit my friend," said Samantha. "She was, uhh… you know… in the…" Samantha found herself unable to say it, and her voice trailed off.

"It's okay," said the nurse, giving her a gentle hug. "If you'd please like to go into this queue here, okay? Just to speed things up a bit for everyone."

Samantha nodded, and allowed the nurse to shepherd her into the longer of the two queues. She then found herself waiting for almost an hour, a wait that seemed both interminable and unbearable. At one stage, an elderly man, perhaps a grandfather, was suddenly led away from the front of the queue as he began to weep and moan with sorrow, having no doubt received the worst possible news. This only intensified the dread within Samantha's own heart, and the wait became all the more agonizing.

Finally, she was at the front of the queue, faced with a nurse who looked like she was trying her best to force a smile but was finding it increasingly hard to. Samantha couldn't really blame her, given the sombre atmosphere in the hospital, and the sheer volume of visitors. "Good morning," said the receptionist. "Who are you here to see?"

Samantha's voice caught in her throat for a moment before she responded. "Dawn… Dawn Harvey. I heard she was brought in this morning after the…?"

The receptionist nodded, typing Dawn's name into her computer. "Let's see… ah, yes. She was admitted several hours ago. She's in a stable condition, and should make a full recovery."

Samantha breathed a heavy sigh of relief, feeling her worries evaporate. "Thank goodness… where is she?"

***

After several minutes of walking through corridors, Samantha found herself in a large ward containing over a dozen beds. She made her way through, glancing at each patient in turn as she passed them, checking to see if they were Dawn. Finally, she located her friend near the centre of the ward.

Dawn was lying awake in her hospital bed, and although her face was partly hidden by her phone, held in her right hand, Samantha could see that she was in some discomfort. The source of this pain was immediately and shockingly clear: a bandaged wound on her shoulder that was no doubt the work of the shooter. It had been wrapped neatly in bandages, but the blood had soaked through them, even staining the sheets and pillow slightly as well. Absorbed by whatever was on her phone screen, and no doubt distracted by her pain, Dawn had not noticed her friend's arrival.

The whole ward suddenly seemed deafeningly silent to Samantha, save for the relentless, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor at Dawn's bedside, telling her that her friend was still alive. Even Samantha's own footsteps seemed to fall silent as she slowly approached the cubicle. Dawn seemed to have heard the footsteps, however, for she suddenly looked up from her phone, looking mildly surprised. "Samantha," she said, putting down her phone. "What are you doing here?"

Samantha felt a sudden, immeasurable relief at hearing Samantha's voice again. It was the final, ultimate proof that her friend really was going to be alright. She rushed to her friend's side and give her a tight hug. "I'm visiting my best friend," she said.

Day 222

[from Pokémon: Shattered Crystal]

As I make my way back through Route 29, the sun begins to set. I'm soon accosted by a Pokémon I've never seen before: a Hoothoot. Armed with my Poké Balls, I decide to make an attempt to catch it. "Go, Firebrand!" I say, unleashing my companion.

Firebrand swiftly weakens the Hoothoot with two hard Tackles, and though the Hoothoot replies with a Tackle of its own, Firebrand shrugs it off like it's nothing. With the Hoothoot weakened, I quickly take a Poké Ball out of my backpack and throw it. It neatly encapsulates the Pokémon, shakes thrice, and is still. I have caught my first Pokémon, and in honour of having caught her at night, I decide to name her Dusk.

My new catch does not seem to like me at first, but after I feed her an Oran Berry to get her strength back up, she perks up a little and hoots with content. "Don't worry," I reassure her. "I'll take care of you. I promise." Before I can return Dusk to her Poké Ball, we're suddenly confronted by another Hoothoot. I quickly recall Dusk and send out Firebrand, who dispatches it with ease. Dusk will be weak, since she had little battle experience, so I'll want to try and avoid getting her into any serious fights just yet.

With Firebrand now at my side, we are not attacked again, and I reach Cherrygrove without further incident. Having received some allowance from my mother, I immediately head for the Pokémon Mart the old man had mentioned on my previous visit; some supplies will definitely come in handy for my journey. I buy some more Potions, and some medicine to cure my Pokémon if they ever get poisoned or paralyzed. These medicines could well save my Pokémon's lives, if I use them properly.

With much of my money now gone, I head out into Route 30. Once again I recall the old man's words to me: trainers will be battling their Pokémon out here. I beat Silva back at Cherrygrove, but somehow I'm still not entirely confident about my abilities. I grasp Firebrand's Poké Ball tightly in my hand. I guess I'm about to find out either way.

No sooner have I set foot in the tall grass than I am set upon by a Zubat. I see this as another potential catch, and send Firebrand back out to battle it. As the Zubat swoops down to strike, Firebrand dodges it and instead Tackles it, injuring one of its wings and forcing it to crash into the ground. I toss a Poké Ball at the wounded Zubat, expecting it to be caught like Dusk, but instead the Poké Ball smashes into pieces as the Pokémon breaks free.

The Zubat's struggling is in vain, however, for as it tries to swoop at Firebrand once more, Firebrand Tackles it again and this time pins it to the ground with a front paw. As the Zubat tries to break free, gnashing its jaws and screeching fruitlessly, I throw another Poké Ball and this time I am successful: the Pokémon is caught. It's a female like Dusk, and after a moment's thinking, I decide to call it Banshee, on account of its gender and shrill screeching. My party now numbers three.

Before I get a chance to heal Banshee, another Hoothoot attacks me and Firebrand is called into action once more. Once again Hoothoot fells it with little effort, but I start to worry that the constant fights will wear Firebrand down by the time I reach the trainers up ahead. He's the only Pokémon I really have that's fit for battle, and should he fall, I'll be all but helpless. I quickly feed Banshee and Firebrand some Berries to alleviate my concerns, then press on.

I'm not sure what to expect from the trainers on the route, but I probably wasn't expecting my first opponent to be a young schoolboy who looks about eight. As I pass by a tall patch of grass to my right, he ambushes me from my left. "Hey!" he says enthusiastically. "You look like a weak trainer! Come on, let's battle!"

Ordinarily, I'd be reluctant to battle a kid of this age, who might cry if I beat him too heavily. But the remark about me looking weak stings me. I decide to teach him a lesson. "Alright," I say. "Bring it on."

"Prepare yourself!" says the kid, grabbing what appears to be his only Poké Ball. "Go, Rattata!" The kid sends out his Rattata, which gnashes its teeth in a show of intimidation.

"Go, Firebrand!" Firebrand emerges from his Poké Ball and is almost immediately Tackled by the Rattata. Firebrand holds his own, responding with a Tackle of his own that seems to weaken the Pokémon considerably. The Rattata puts up a brave fight, but two more hits later and it's down.

The kid, who did indeed only have the one Pokémon, looks pretty upset about losing. "Darn it!" he exclaims. "I lost again! I knew I should have caught some more Pokémon before battling again!"

Feeling a little sorry for the kid, I decide to give him some advice. "It couldn't hurt to train your Rattata a little as well," I tell him. "Sometimes it's better to have one strong Pokémon than six weak ones."

The kid thinks this over for a moment. "Hey, yeah, you're right!" he says. "Maybe I don't need any other Pokémon in order to battle better! Maybe if I just stick with my Rattata, the two of us can get stronger together! Yeah, that's what I'll do! I'll stick with Rattata right to the end! Thanks for the advice, mister!"

That wasn't quite what I meant, but if it makes him feel better, then so be it. "Don't mention it," I say.

The kid thinks for another moment, then asks, "Say, can I get your phone number? Maybe we can train together sometime, and you can give me some more advice. Since we're both rookies, it'd be a good motivator. What do you say?"

I shrug. "Sure, why not?" I say.

"Thanks!" says the kid. We swap Pokégear numbers, and in the process I learn that the kid's name is Joey. "I'll ring you whenever I get the urge to battle!" he says.

"Go ahead," I say. "Alright, see you later, Joey."

The rest of the battles on the route turn out to be the same: schoolkids like Joey, with no real idea about how to train or battle their Pokémon. I brush them all aside, along with a wild Spinarak that ambushes me; as I progress, I start sending out Dusk against some of the weaker opponents, gradually building up her battle strength. I can't rely on Firebrand forever.

Before I know it, I'm on Route 31, and only a short distance away from Violet City. To the north I spot a cave entrance, but it looks pitch-black inside, and I decide not to enter for fear of getting ambushed or losing my way. Instead I make my way west, soon encountering another young trainer who battles me with four weak Bug Pokémon. Using Dusk and Firebrand, I defeat him with ease.

"Hey, you're good!" says the kid, after he's been defeated. "I like you! How about I share some of the Berries I find with you? If you give me your phone number, I can call you whenever I find some good Berries. Sound like a fair deal?"

"Yeah, sure," I say. It can't hurt to have more Berries, surely. I exchange phone numbers with the kid, whose name I learn is Wade, and continue on my way.

Not too far from where I battled Wade, I find a stray Poké Ball lying on the ground. I pick it up, but before I can put it away, I'm accosted by a wild Poliwag. Praising my luck, but wary of the type advantage it holds over Firebrand, I send out Dusk to battle it, intending to capture it. The Poliwag defends itself with a flurry of bubbles, but Dusk shrugs off the attacks and soon the Poliwag is weak enough for me to throw the Poké Ball I just picked up at it. It works, and I now have my fourth companion: I name him Dizzy, after his waddling gait and the spiral on his stomach.

Soon after catching Dizzy, I arrive in Violet City. It's now nightfall, and the streets around me are illuminated by bright lamps. It's too late to challenge the Gym Leader today, and in any case, I'm not sure whether my Pokémon are ready yet. I decide to first locate the city's Pokémon Center, to rest my weary Pokémon, then find a hotel and rest my weary self. Tomorrow, I'll prepare to take on the first Gym Leader: Falkner.

NEW COMPANION: DUSK THE HOOTHOOT (LVL.3, ROUTE 29)

NEW COMPANION: BANSHEE THE ZUBAT (LVL.3, ROUTE 30)

NEW COMPANION: DIZZY THE POLIWAG (LVL.4, ROUTE 31)

Day 221

[This is a short story called "Francorchamps", that I originally wrote for my GCSEs in 2010. It depicts the aborted first start of the 1998 Belgian Grand Prix, which took place on 30 August 1998. It it one of the most famous races in Formula One history.]

"Three lights... four lights... five lights..." Jarno could almost hear the unmistakeable voice of Murray Walker in his ear as he watched the lights go on. Or tried to. It was hard enough to see the lights from thirteenth on the grid as it was, but in the torrential rain, with your crash helmet on? It was almost impossible.

But, "GO!!!" ...suddenly the lights were off, and in an instant the twenty-one other cars assembled around him sprang into life with a deafening scream. Time for the fun to begin. The start was just like the twelve others he had contested that year, and the fourteen he'd contested the year before. Swerve to the left, onto the racing line. Flick the paddle behind the steering wheel; up into second gear. Make sure you don't slam straight into Wurz in front of you. Check your mirrors; check Barrichello's still behind you. Now look to the left again; look for the brake markers. There they are. BRAKE!

Round the La Source hairpin. A tricky enough corner in the dry. Thankfully it wasn't far from the start line, so the cars hadn't gotten up to speed yet. A car dived down the inside: Barrichello had gotten the better of him. No matter. He had passed two cars already, and was right on the tail of a third. He stamped hard on the accelerator; back up to second; now up to third; now they were away, down the long straight up to Eau Rouge. The most famous corner in Formula One.

Jarno swerved to the left, cutting off a car behind him; he immediately cut to the right to avoid touching the back of the car in front. It was a Sauber - or was it a Benetton? It was impossible to tell through the heavy spray flying up from the back of the car, and from the cars all around him. One could scarcely see one's own hand in front of their face.

Ahead of him, something briefly registered in Jarno's vision: a flurry of spray, a flash of white paint. Had someone spun? Jarno couldn't tell. It may not even have been a car for all he could see. Through the spray, the flash of paint looked almost fish-shaped, though of course it couldn't have been a fish, even though it was wet enough for one to survive here...

SLAM. What had happened registered immediately: Jarno had suffered a lapse in concentration and hit the car in front of him. With the sudden deceleration, everything seemed to lapse into slow-motion; even the rain seemed to shudder to a temporary crawl. There was an instant of silence, broken sharply by another loud bang and a furious jolt, as another car slammed straight into the back of Jarno's stricken car, having presumably been unsighted by the spray.

As his car slowly slid to a halt, Jarno sat quietly, trying to come to terms with things. His race was likely far from over; since he'd seemingly crashed in the middle of a straight, and on the first lap, the race would probably be red-flagged and restarted, giving him a second chance with the spare car. However, Jarno was still worried about the effect the crash might have on his reputation in the sport. This was his sophomore year in Formula 1, and he'd retired from more than half the races so far, having scored no points. He knew that if he carried on like this, this season could well be his last.

Now for the disheartening, though mercifully short walk back to the pit lane. Jarno unscrewed the steering wheel, and placed it where he knew the car's nose cone would be; he could still barely see it through the driving rain. Then he got out of the car, took one step and felt his leg kick something. He looked down: it appeared to be a tyre. Free from its carbon-fibre master, it had been merrily rolling across the deserted track as tumbleweed does across desert.

But was it deserted? The tyre couldn't possibly have come from his car. Jarno knew that at least two other cars had been involved in the collision, and he started to wonder how many others had been. He pulled off his helmet, increasing his visibility, though only slightly as it was still hard to see through the driving rain. Even so, it was just enough for him to make out the carnage that had unfolded around him.

The tarmac around him was littered with stricken cars. At least a dozen of them, all crowded together, having apparently crashed into one another. The floor was strewn with shards of carbon fibre, winking white and blue and red through the grey gloom, and scores of wheels like the one he had just kicked were barrelling from the scene like escaped cattle broken free from their ranch. It appeared that somebody had run wide and spun onto the racing line - the flash of paint that Jarno had spotted - and everyone behind them had simply ploughed unsighted into the melee, systematically eliminating almost every car behind a certain point on the track. And all around him, the other drivers were getting out of their cars, taking off their helmets, and awakening to the same nightmare.

Jarno clambered his way through the chaos, the stricken cars, and approached a marshal, who to his relief was frantically waving a red flag. "What the hell happened?" he asked the marshal.

"I'm not sure," replied the marshal, in a slight French accent. "I see Coulthard spin, over there somewhere-" he gesticulated wildly at an area a few yards behind Jarno's stricken car "-I think somebody hit him, and then the next thing I know, all the cars are piled up together like this, sliding along the track..." The marshal sighed heavily. "It'll be a miracle if nobody was hurt."

A tap on the shoulder. Jarno turned round to see his team-mate, Olivier Panis, still wearing his helmet but with the visor raised. Even without seeing his face, Jarno could tell from his team-mate's body language that he was a little shaken. "You'll be needing that for the restart," he said, gesturing at Jarno's crash helmet.

Jarno nodded and was about to put it on when he hesitated. "What about you?" he asked.

"I got taken out too," replied Olivier, "and there's only one spare car. You're the lead driver, so..." He shrugged disappointedly. "I'll have to just watch from the garage."

Jarno gave his team-mate a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, man," he said.

"No need to apologize," said Olivier. "This is not your fault. I…" Olivier turned round to take another look at the scene, them muttered something in French that Jarno didn't catch. "Twenty years I've been racing, and I've never seen anything like this before. Do you think everyone's alright?"

"I don't know," said Jarno. "There's an awful lot of debris around. I sure hope so, though."

"Me too," said Olivier. "Good luck in the restart."

As Olivier made his way back to the pits, Jarno surveyed the carnage once more. Not just the Minardis and Tyrrells had been taken out, but a Ferrari and a Benetton as well. World Champions and backmarkers, household names and debutantes, all levelled in a single moment, one wrong turn of the steering wheel. He glanced again at his departing team-mate, gazing regretfully at his wrecked car as he passed it. He looked over at the marshals, now picking up the pieces: clearing away the reams of debris, rolling the severed tyres out of the way, and pushing the cars' shattered remains to one side so they could be recovered. Then he looked behind him, and saw David Coulthard, seemingly the instigator of this whole affair, walking dejectedly back towards the pits to claim his spare car, his helmet still on, the raindrops bouncing off it. Trying to come to terms with it all.

Jarno sighed, then started to meander his way back through the destruction, past the broken pieces of carbon fibre that still carpeted the ground. He passed a marshal wheeling his car towards the barriers, to be picked up by a crane and taken away, and for a moment it seemed to Jarno that he was hauling a battered body across a bomb site, ready to be thrown into an ambulance and driven to the morgue. The destruction around him certainly would not have looked out of place at a bomb site. Then he was back in the pit lane, joining the dozen other drivers marching through the monsoon, some still helmeted, some dragging their crash helmets behind them, as though the storm had washed away their homes and they were now hauling their belongings through the driving rain, soaked through, searching for refuge.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: After the restart, Jarno Trulli went on to finish 6th, claiming his and Prost's only point of the season. Eddie Irvine and Rubens Barrichello had suffered minor injuries in the crash - Barrichello did not take the restart - but nobody was seriously hurt. The race was won by Damon Hill, the first-ever victory for his Jordan team but the final win of Hill's career.]

[IMPORTANT] Vote for your favourite project from Project 20:15!

Project 20:15 has been a great success across the board. I've made a fantastic amount of progress on many of my projects and gotten a fair amount of feedback. I'd like to try and continue writing daily from next year onwards, but my time might be better spent working on a few projects at a time, rather than trying to balance all 30+ at once. And if I'm working on something nobody cares about, then it's a waste of everyone's time.

So this is a VERY important poll. It's a simple question: which projects would you like me to continue working on next year? There are a few projects, such as StarLight and Electron, that I intend to continue working on anyway, but I wanna know what you guys want to see. I wanna know what's popular here. You'll be able to vote right up until December 31st, and you can vote for as many projects as you want (but you can only vote once, hopefully, so make it count!)

Without further ado, here is the link: http://www.poll-maker.com/poll400469x04eD421C-15 If you've been following Project 20:15 at all, even just one or two projects, please vote. Feedback is very important to me.

Day 220

[from StarLight]

The strange black blob in the distance turned out to be exactly that: a black gelatinous blob about twelve feet in diameter, with no discernible features. As it rolled through the streets it engulfed everything in its path, mostly just parked cars. Fortunately for the city's residents, the blob creature only seemed to travel at about walking pace, and so everyone in the vicinity was easily able to outrun it, although what exactly would happen if it did engulf them was unclear. The vehicles absorbed into its mass merely hung suspended inside it, slowly tumbling end over end.

As White Star soared above the streets full of fleeing pedestrians, their heads turned skywards and their panic dissipated. "Go, White Star!" cried one businessman, raising a fist that was still holding his briefcase. "Destroy that blob!"

White Star looked rather bemused at the sight of the monster. "A giant blob?" she remarked. "Really? Don't tell me the writer's run out of monster ideas already? What's next, a floating blue octahedron? More to the point, where's its weak spot?" White Star start to fly in circles around the blob, trying to find some point on its gelatinous surface that was perhaps weaker, but it was no use; it was identical from all angles, save for the accumulation of cars and debris now building up inside it. With each item it absorbed its size increased slightly; it had grown perhaps three or four feet since it had first appeared downtown.

"It's no use," conceded White Star after her dozenth circuit, "this thing doesn't have any weak spots. Plus I'm getting dizzy, and I still need to say my catchphrase." She stopped for a moment, her head still spinning, heavily disoriented. She shook her head to clear it, focusing on the task at hand, then pointed her wand directly at the creature, assuming her signature pose. "Time to let the light of justice shine!" she cried, to cheers from the crowd below. "Meteor Shower!"

Star-shaped energy projectiles burst forth from the end of the wand, smashing into the creature at high speed. All they managed to do was push it backwards and send shockwave ripples across its gelatinous surface; no other damage was visible. The creature continued to take in debris, growing ever larger.

White Star pouted. "How are you supposed to damage something like this?" she moaned. Sighing, she thought for a moment. There had to be something the creature was weak against. Something that would damage its gelatinous structure. If not her energy attacks, then what?

White Star raised her wand high. "THUNDER STRIKE!" she cried. High above, dark clouds formed and hovered ominously over the black blob. A rumble sounded from deep within them, and then with a loud boom a thunderbolt burst forth from the heavens... and struck an antenna on the roof of a nearby skyscraper, dissipating harmlessly.

White Star was shocked that the monster hadn't been shocked. "WHAT?! How does that even..." She looked on in disbelief for a moment, then sighed, exasperated, and sought out the White Star Fan Club in the crowd below. Fortunately, it seemed they had arrived this time; Hitomi had even brought a tub of popcorn. "Hi, White Star!" said Hitomi excitedly. "We're your biggest fans!"

"I know," said White Star. "I, uhh.. heard about you on the Internet."

"See, I told you the Blagger page would work!" said Hitomi.

White Star turned to Mio. "Mio, you're the smart one, right?" she asked. "Why didn't that lightning attack work?"

"Well, you see," said Mio, adjusting her glasses (which she had dried and cleaned earlier), "electricity, when projected in the form of, say, a bolt of lightning, will automatically arc towards the nearest conductive surface. In a battle against Black Star a thousand feet above the city's rooftops, this surface will invariably be Black Star herself, but at street level the tops of the buildings will be much closer than whatever you happen to be targeting, rendering the attack ineffective. Additionally, judging from the monster's appearance and gelatinous properties, it's fair to assume that it wouldn't conduct electricity anyway."

About half of this lengthy explanation had gone over White Star's head, but she got the gist. "So... Thunder Strike won't work on monsters on the ground?"

"Precisely," said Mio. "However, there should be some method of breaking down the monster's gelatinous structure and effectively dissolving it."

White Star nodded. "Dissolve the monster. Got it. Anything else?"

"Umm... could you dry our clothes, please?" asked Mio. "We didn't get a chance while we were at school." It occurred to White Star that she was the one responsible for soaking the other Fan Club members in the first place; ironic that she was now being asked to dry them.

"Okay, fine," said White Star, and conjuring a flame at the end of her wand, she began heating the girls' clothes and evaporating the water still left on them.

"Ahh… that's nice and warm~" said Hitomi, holding her hands out towards the flame to warm them up. "It's a shame Sanae couldn't be here to get dried off; she's missing the battle again!"

"I'm sure she's watching it from somewhere," said White Star.

The girls gathered round the flame, and within moments their clothes were nice and dry. "Thanks, White Star," said Nagisa. "Sorry to distract you from kicking that monster's ass."

"Don't worry about it!" said White Star. "And you're welcome!" With that, she flew off above the crowd again. She now had an idea for how to defeat the blob, based on what Mio had told her. But first, she needed something. Scanning the crowd, she quickly found what she was looking for; another high school student, still clutching their Chekhov water gun as they watched the blob's steady, relentless advance. White Star promptly swooped down in front of the student. "Hey, can I borrow this?" she asked, indicating the water gun.

"Uh, sure," said the bemused student, handing it over. "Go nuts."

"Thanks." White Star flew back over to the monster, water gun gripped tightly in her hand. "Alright, Mister Blob," she smirked, raising the gun's barrel, "prepare to be dissolved!"

White Star pulled the trigger, firing a stream of water at the blob. What she expected to happen was that it would dissolve, the water melting it like the Wicked Witch of the West. What actually happened was that the stream of water was simply absorbed into the blob, causing it to swell another few inches in diameter. White Star quickly released the trigger and lowered the gun, feeling quite annoyed with herself for her faulty logic.

"Whoops," said White Star feebly. "I guess Chekhov's guns don't work on this thing."

The blob continued on its way, every car in its path being sucked into its gelatinous form and hanging there, suspended like a fly trapped in amber. One driver who had somehow not heard about the chaos found himself driving directly into the blob's path; he braked hard, scrambled out of his seat and fled to the safety of a nearby cafe just in time to see his van get sucked into the advancing blob. By now the creature was so large it filled the entire street, its form pressingly slightly against the windows of the buildings on either side to the horror of those within. If it grew much bigger it would press against the buildings with enough force to do some serious damage to them. It was now or never.

White Star's brain worked overtime to try and process the additional information she had learned, and what little she had bothered learning in science class. The creature absorbed water; water made it grow larger. That meant it had to be largely made up of water. In fact, looking at it now White Star was almost reminded of the water balloons she had carried earlier that day, all round and squishy and full of water, except those had been easier to break. The plan clicked into place all too soon. It was remarkably simple, if equally stupid.

"Okay," declared White Star, "I know how to defeat the monster now! This next attack will end it!"

"You said that the last time!" shouted a sceptical man from the crowd, to laughs from those around him. White Star was somewhat grateful for the interruption, as it gave her additional time to come up with a name for the attack she was about to perform.

White Star swung the wand dramatically, posing with her arms swept behind her. "Finishing Move: Phoenix Strike!" Her wand was again engulfed in magical flame, and this time the flames spread across her entire body, burning with an intense heat that at the same time did not harm her. Pointing herself towards the still-advancing blob, White Star then swooped down, leaving a blazing trail behind her, and plunged straight into the gelatinous foe.

"She dived straight into it!" exclaimed an astonished onlooker, rather needlessly.

"Is she insane?" cried another.

"This is going straight on FooTube!" exclaimed a third, who was filming the whole thing on his cellphone.

Immediately, however, White Star's crazy yet simple plan began to take effect. As she had correctly deduced, the blob was largely made of water, and as the intense heat from her flames entered its body it began to evaporate. A dark cloud of steam rose up from the blob as it boiled away, gradually shrinking until there was nothing left but its Black Heart and the objects inside it, which one by one dropped harmlessly to the ground. The owner of the van rushed forwards to hug his reclaimed vehicle, only to be repelled by the heat that had been conducted by its metal surface.

As the last remnants of the blob evaporated away, White Star was left hovering in the air where the centre of the blob had been just moments before, clutching the fallen Black Heart in her hand. As the watching crowd processed what had happened, a mighty cheer began to rise up. "White Star's saved us again!" crowed one onlooker.

White Star smirked. "Well, it looks like that monster…" She pulled a pair of sunglasses from nowhere and put them on. "…couldn't take the heat."

***

To Sanae's annoyance, she found that when she changed back into her normal form, her school uniform was still wet. She had therefore had to trudge home with soggy shoes, a translucent shirt, and a rather uncomfortable breeze in a rather uncomfortable place. Needless to say, she and the other Mitsuzawa students had gotten a lot of stares. Sanae had never been more relieved to get through her front door.

"Finally," she sighed, as she slipped off her wet shoes. "I can dry myself off, get out of these wet clothes, and relax. Man, this day really didn't go as well as I'd hoped... but at least now everything's okay-"

The moment Sanae entered her room, she realized that she had spoken too soon. Kousen was stood at her desk, her expression an odd mixture of guilt and - unbelievably - panic. Sanae had never seen her youkai companion scared before. She quickly realized the reason for Kousen's fear: her laptop had blue-screened. "Kousen," she said in a wary tone, "what happened to my laptop...?"

"I-I don't know," said Kousen. "Someone on the In-Turn-It said that I could make your laptop run faster by deleting something called System32, but I did it and now-"

"Kousen, that was a prank!" said Sanae, indignant. "Computers need System32 to function! Now you've broken it!" Sanae muscled her way to the desk and stared in horror at her broken machine before turning to lecture her familiar. "You shouldn't believe everything you read on the Internet! There are people on there that are trying to trick you!"

"So you mean that gender really isn't a social construct?" asked Kousen. "And that that singing man really will give me up?"

Sanae facepalmed. "Please tell me you didn't fall for anything else," she said.

"No," said Kousen, "but this will cheer you up! While I was searching for Black Star using the magic Moogle, a website told me I was their one millionth visitor and that I'd won a special prize! All I had to do was give them your credit card number and-"

Kousen was cut off by the sound of Sanae repeatedly and violently slamming her head against the desk. "Is something the matter, Sanae?" asked Kousen. "Was it something I said?"