Moonflower

PAPYRUS
The pyramid is in the center of the city. It’s solid gold. Well, I think it might be, anyway. I’ve never been able to get close enough to have a good look.
I hide in the shadow of an alleyway. Luckily, right now my skin is so transparent that someone has to be looking closely to see me. I must look like a mirage to the beings here. The only thing about me that’s as clear as day is the chain. It’s like a warm gold thread looped around my ankle, the end dangling before it sinks into the ground, disappearing beneath me like a ray of light. I’ve tried to get that chain off a thousand times, but nothing works. I can’t cut it, can’t bite it, can’t untie it. The more I try to tug at it, the tighter it gets around my foot.
There’s only way to get the chain off, and the answer is in the pyramid. It has to be. They’re both the same golden color. That can’t just be a coincidence. Wolf says there’s no such thing as coincidences, only signs and messages.
Wolf flutters by. He told me that his real name is something I can’t pronounce with my human tongue, in a frequency I can’t even hear, and the first time I saw him, he was in the form of a wolf, so the nickname stuck. But right now, he’s a bright blue butterfly, lazily drifting until he lands on my shoulder. He’s the only being that can see me whenever I come here, even when I’m as see-through as a glass of water. My skin is invisible right now, but the longer I’m here, the more my color begins to fade in. I’m starting to see the outline of my gray T-shirt, my brown skin. You’re running out of time, Moon.
I know.
I slip out from the alley and keep close to the walls of the busy street. All sorts of beings are in this town, ambling around. One rushes by as they pull a rickshaw that kicks up red dust, and another chases after a top hat that’s blown away in a wind gust, but everyone else takes their time, looking around in awe and pointing at the sights. There are humans, some from thousands of years ago, dressed in traditional ancient garb like tunics and shawls and loincloths; and there are humans from the future also, wearing white outfits that glow a faint light, who have evolved to be super tall, their heads so big and heavy it’s amazing they don’t fall.
And there are other beings, too: some with blue skin and wide black eyes, some who grow feathers from their arms, others who have the faces of lions as they stroll around in white robes, backs straight, chins raised, dignified. One of the lion beings with a puffy red mane pauses, sniffing the air, and turns to look right at me, pupils widening in their yellow eyes. I slip behind a stall where beings sit on stools and eat a slimy green cuisine I don’t recognize (are those slugs?), and a being with pale gray skin and red eyes gasps when I accidentally knock their leg while I crawl past, looking underneath their stool, head turning back and
forth as their gaze goes right through me. Careful, Wolf whispers. Someone’s going to catch you. You’re not supposed to be here.