No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I blurted out, "Someone died?"

"No... it's all the lights, they've gone out," Dustin's words made me heave a sigh of relief.

As long as nobody's dead, it's not a catastrophe.

I glanced out at the sea of lights from the houses around us, "Did all the lights just suddenly go out?"

"Yeah, suddenly everything went dark. The techs and maintenance crew checked everything. There's no power outage, the wiring is fine, and the equipment seems to be working normally. It's just the lighting effects that have disappeared," Dustin explained, leaving me feeling a bit helpless.

I'm no lighting expert, and the original design and post-production were all done by Ernest.

If only he were here.

But there are no ifs in life...

"All the lights turned black?" I asked as I turned around to put on my shoes.

"No, they're white," Dustin's response made me pause.

"White?" I muttered.

"I'll send you a picture, you'll see what I mean," Dustin added after a pause, "Ernest was in charge of the lighting design initially, so... I thought you might know what the problem is. Besides, you're now the legal owner of the amusement park."

Yeah, I got the park handed down to me, but I've been keeping my mitts off, left Dustin in charge of it.

Maybe I should consider giving him a salary raise.

"I'll be right over," I said, hanging up. I received Dustin's photo shortly after.

The once vibrant and colorful amusement park was now eerily white, giving it a ghost town vibe.

A chill ran through me, and an absurd thought crossed my mind: could it be Ernest's spirit playing tricks, angry at me for slacking off and warning me in this way?

The thought made me uneasy as I drove to the amusement park.

Fanny, fresh out of the shower and not finding me at home, called. After hearing my story, she said, "Karma's come knocking."

It seems she too believed the malfunctioning light show was the work of Ernest's spirit.

When I arrived at the park, it was surrounded by a crowd taking pictures, and many visitors who had come for the light show were arguing and protesting.

Now a hot spot for influencers from around the world, everyone expected to witness the grandeur of the lights. Their dissatisfaction was understandable given the

circumstances.

I found Dustin in the control room with the technical and maintenance staff, trying to find the root of the problem.

"Ms. Hudson!" the staff greeted me as I walked in.

"Any luck finding the issue?" I asked, knowing the answer.

If they had solved it, they wouldn't look so grim. Plus, on my way in, I saw that the lights were still glaringly white, devoid of any color.

"We've checked the equipment, wiring, and the current. There's no issue there," one of the technicians said, clearly frustrated.

"Then what's the problem?" I asked, staring at the monitor displaying the blinding white light.

"It's likely a software issue, and that's complicated. I'm afraid..." The technician trailed off, hesitant to continue.

Because the software was Ernest's turf, and only Ernest could sort it out.

"If he's gone, does that mean the park's lights are done for?" I snapped, my voice sharp.

The technicians lowered their heads, not daring to respond.

My outburst wasn't truly directed at them. It was more about the sudden surge of helplessness I felt; that yearning for someone, wanting them back, but knowing it's impossible.

Dustin tried to smooth things over "Ernest did leave some instructions, it's just that we're in a crunch right nowalt might take a moment to

pinpoint the issue."

I didn't reply, and Dustin turned to the technicians, "Get in touch with the software team. Work overtime if you have to, but this issue needs to be resolved."

Then, turning back to me, he said, "We need to handle the visitors' concerns now."

I knew that, of course. I started to walk away, but hadn't gone far when suddenly, someone shouted from behind, "It's fixed!"

Dustin and I turned around in unison to see the computer screen once again filled with vibrant, rich colors.