An officer strolled down the colorless brick chambers to prison cell 25, where a young, red-headed woman with clear skin and bright green eyes sat on a cot, staring at the floor. He opened the door, saying in a harsh voice, "Come with me."

She quietly obeyed and followed the officer to a grey room where only a table and two chairs stood. The officer gestured to the chair on one side of the table and she lightly sat down in it. The officer nodded at a window that she could not see through and a middle aged man entered. He was clean shaven and well dressed with hair thinning and greying on his head. She guessed this must be a detective of some sort judging by his note pad and the suitcase he carried.

"You must be Pauline Clary, I look forward to hearing your story," he smiled, sitting in the chair across from her, "I hear you have a photographic memory?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Then this should be easy for both you and me," he pulled out a pen from his pocket, "now, when did this whole crime idea start?"

Pauline took a deep breath and began to tell her tale, of the mysterious happenings:

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A young woman stepped out of her little grey Toyota and jogged to the entrance of the Cleveland Museum of Art, where a new exhibit was being revealed. The parking lot was not as full as she expected and the museum halls were not as crammed either. Once the doors of the armory halls were opened, people flooded into the open space and slowly moved past different artifacts which were legended to be a part of the Arthurian legends.

Handsome suits of armor and swords stood on display, but one sword in particular, had the most bodies huddled around it. Pauline weaved her slim figure through the crowd and stood on her tiptoes to see what had attracted so much attention. A beautiful, sword with a crimson handle, embroidered with gold, stood next to an equally decorated scabbard. She could not reach the information beside it until the traffic had cleared, but the whispers and murmurings of the crowd gave her a pretty good idea.

The label in front of the display case read,

"The Fated Sword of Balyn:

This is the sword which killed several knights of the round table, the sword that was carried around by a damsel, cursed and hidden away by Merlin.

Beside the label, a shortened story of The Knight with the Two Swords was pinned to a board behind a frame along with some pictures of architects in crumbling cities. Pauline shook her head, These people seriously believe in legends like these? Legends as stories which teach us lessons are all make believe, she thought. Even though she disagreed with the claim about the sword she did admit it was well-made.

After observing the other works of art and daydreaming she was the one writing about them and setting up the display, she glanced at her watch and let out a cry of surprise, "I'll be late for history if I don't hurry!" She mom-walked out of the museum and once outside, broke into a sprint. Diving into the car, she revved the engine and sped off to college.

Friday nights might be fun for some college students, going to parties, movies, dates and other activities, but Pauline prefered staying home, finishing homework and studying. Ever since Maxine, her best friend growing up, moved to Colorado, she did not care for making friends and wasting time at parties; if she was going to make a living and have an education, it meant sacrificing fun. Besides, she was never alone, Smokey, a young, charcoal grey cat her parents had given her for her 17th birthday last year, would always come up on her bed to cuddle, or step on the keyboard to get attention.

Dad was not home, but currently at the hospital, where Mom was at war with pancreatic cancer. She had been there for over a month now, and the odds were not at her side. There were days where she would be better, then she would be in bad shape the next day. Pauline had visited her every chance she had spare time, but the stress of school, work and her mother was starting to build on her. There would be nights where she would just sprawl out on her bed and sob, and other nights she was like a snapping zombie due to panic.

It was a ordinary Sunday morning, after Mass Pauline's father drove his daughter to the nearest doughnut joint and had just pulled up when the hospital called. Pauline knew that the news was horrible due the to the distressed look that creased her dad's face. Abandoning the thought of breakfast, they rushed to the hospital to find Mom, laying on the bed, one nurse removing her mother's medicines and heart monitor. A radio was playing the Rosary in the background and a priest sat by her bedside, performing the sacraments of Anointing of the Sick and Holy Communion.

Pauline's legs weakened and she broke down crying by her mother's bedside, holding her hand as if it were to prevent her mom from slipping into the afterlife. Mom turned and smiled at her daughter, her eyes brighter than ever before almost excited, "Honey?"

"Yes, Mom I'm right here," Pauline cried, "Please, don't leave me!"

"God is ready for me, and that means I need to be ready for him."

"But I need you!"

"I will be watching you and your father from heaven till you both are celebrating with me with God."

"But I-"

"Now listen Pauline, there's something I want you to do."

"Yes?" Pauline whimpered.

"Make another friend, and become close to that friend, just like you were with Maxine."

"Anything to make you happy."

"You already have..."

Pauline watched as her mother's glowing face drift into eternal peace that Sunday.