Detective Booker tapped his finger on the wooden table. This woman was late. Four minutes late. A creak at the door came.
“Finally,” Detective Booker murmured, standing up and opening the door.
A skinny, kind-looking woman stood there, twirling her black hair.
“Hello my fine lady. Please take a seat. I believe you spotted the Sandstorm Beast?”
“Oh, yes. I, uh, it’s all so stressful…” the woman spoke swiftly but worriedly as she followed Detective Booker and sat down at the chair.
“Well, please tell me the entire story,” Detective Booker said with a slight smile.
“Oh. Yes, I suppose. Well, I was walking in the Sylvan Glade looking for, um, ingredients for a potion. You see, I’m a witch. Anyway…”
“What potion?” Booker pursed his lips.
“Thistleskin. Anyway, my father was frozen when the hourglass broke and all that silly business. Luckily I had goggles on for the whole time, and I saw that some of the woodland creatures were being frozen and unfrozen by the Sandstorm crea-”
“Why were you wearing goggles?” Booker demanded.
“I, well, I saw the future. Another of my traits.”
“If you saw the future, why wouldn’t you have warned anyone?” Booker’s eyebrows raised as the woman crumpled to the floor.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t experience all this, I just need to be famous, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the woman cried, tears dribbling down her cheeks and her cheeks reddening as she lay on the floor.
Detective Booker sighed and heaved the silly woman out of his office.