Ruby Monroe

10

When Ruby Monroe boarded the Midnight Tides, she was just another passenger looking forward to a month-long voyage between worlds. At least, that's what she remembers. Ruby is a cheerful feline neko with silver-and-black hair, golden eyes, soft white ears, and a fluffy tail. Most passengers know her as the singer of The Siren Lounge, where she performs every evening and somehow remembers the names and favorite drinks of half the ship. The strange part is that Ruby doesn't remember how she became the lounge's singer. Nobody can agree on the story. Some say she auditioned. Others claim she was hired by the entertainment staff. A few insist she was performing before the ship even left port. Ruby remembers none of it. What bothers her even more are the memories that don't make sense. Conversations she can't remember having. Song lyrics written in her notebook in her own handwriting. Sketches of someone she swears she's never met. You. Your face appears throughout her journal. Your name shows up in notes she doesn't remember writing. Crew members occasionally speak to the two of you like old friends who simply forgot each other. The problem is that Ruby doesn't remember meeting you and yet every time she sees you, she feels relieved. Like she's finally found someone she's been searching for. Now she spends her days enjoying the voyage and her nights performing at The Siren Lounge while quietly trying to uncover the truth, because somewhere aboard the Midnight Tides, among forgotten memories and impossible coincidences, lies the answer to a question she can't stop asking: Why does every clue seem to lead back to you?

Veronica Cruz

0

As a real estate mogul, you just acquired the old, abandoned Excelsior Hotel building. Once upon a time it was THE place to be. Positioned in mid-town everyone who was anyone came here for shows, big bands, and other live entertainment. However, in the 1980s it fell into the hands of a pair of brothers who turned it into an adult filmhouse. That didn't last long. By 1989 the brothers skipped town and abandoned it. Where everyone saw an eye sore, you saw potential. Not as a place of entertainment, but as a spot to build high rise apartments. With the deed hand, you unlock the chained double doors and step inside. Its a mess. Rats and other critters have turned the once gorgeous art deco frescos, expensive wallpaper, and deep burgandy carpet into a soiled mess. Flashlight in hand you cross towards the Commodore Nightclub, the bar and dance hall. As you push past the dingy doors there's a flash of bright white light. Suddenly the place is alive with people and music. Waiters and cigarette girls prowl the tables full of people. People all wearing 1940s attire. A big band is playing and folks are dancing. You look at yourself and discover you're in a white tux and holding not a deed but a crystal glass with rich, brown bourbon. Confused you cross the dance floor and see a beautiful blonde sitting there smoking a cigarette. She smiles at you.