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Home›Fiction›The Invitation: Part 5

The Invitation: Part 5

By LC Ahl (Lucy)
November 24, 2025
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white sandy beach with clear blue water and footprints
Kanenori / Pixabay
This entry is part 5 of 6 in the series The Invitation

The Invitation
  • The Invitation: Part 1
  • The Invitation: Part 2
  • The Invitation: Part 3
  • The Invitation: Part 4
  • The Invitation: Part 5
  • The Invitation: Part 6
5
(3)

Riley gagged when she looked into the room. “Mind if I stay by the door?” she questioned, clutching her stomach.

“If you’re that sensitive, I’ll be quick.” I slipped into the suite and returned with the photo of the smiling woman and what appeared to be a large, uncut black opal that fit in the palm of my hand.

“Why is that important?” Riley asked.

“Not sure, but I’d rather hold on to it than let the cleaners take it,” I said.

Riley nodded. “Before they notice us gone, we should make our way to the deck.” She led the way through the windy hallways.

Once on the platform, a steward ushered our entourage along. “Watch your step.” I hit my head as I passed through the door. “And your head.” He snickered.

Samantha and her team stood on the pier. As we approached, she stuck out her hand. “Samantha Arie; you must be Melody and Riley.” Her stare-down, accompanied by a slight squint and intense eye contact, made me instantly uncomfortable. “I’ve learned so much concerning you both. I expect your experience is going to be delightful.”

Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight, almost halo-like. She wore a fitted white tank top and matching pants that suited her build. The woman beside her draped a lei over my neck, then Riley’s.

I touched Samantha’s arm. “May we speak privately?” I asked.

“I’m busy now. Head to my office in an hour. Eliza shall show you after you get settled into your yurt.” Her expression was cold. I nodded.

We sauntered down the wharf to the bright sandy beach, and fifty yards up stood ten beige yurts, side by side. Each had a different color flag stuck in the ground by the entrance.

Eliza, the assistant, lined the group up and called out our names. As we walked up to her, she presented lanyards with matching colors. “Melody, you’ll be in yellow. Riley, you’re in red. Curt in blue. Kathy is in pink, Aiden, you’re in orange, and Beverly is in purple. I think I’ve gotten everybody.” It was obvious one was missing, and yet she brushed it off. “I’ll have Pedro bring up your luggage. There are water and snacks in each of your huts. Make yourselves comfortable. We convene for cocktails at the entertainment center, directly behind here, at five; then we’ll review the weekly planner. Welcome, folks, to our island. See you all later.” She turned and followed a well-worn path between the palm trees and disappeared.

I waved my hands in the air, motioning for the people to gather closer and form a circle surrounding me.

“Anyone else getting a weird vibe?” I asked.

The entire team looked at me and agreed. “Each individual must be diligent. Select a companion, detail whereabouts at all times, including restroom visits. Aiden, since we’re short a body, you could hang out with Riley and me. No more lost people. Got it?” I stared each person in the eye. “Okay, let’s get settled and meet here at 4:55.”

We all scattered to our color-coded tents, where our luggage had been placed outside our entrances.

As I stepped in, I was transported to a different world. A canopy bed with mosquito netting was in the center, beneath a round skylight for stargazing. The Moroccan motif included floor pillows encircling a low table and floral-patterned rugs. Exposed beams and side panels made the space feel larger.

Candles and a lantern sat on the dresser; there was no electricity. Instead of a kitchen or bathroom, a flap near the bed led to a portable toilet, and a water barrel. Though connected, the rooms had no shared access without cutting through the canvas.

“Riley, can you hear me?” I called quietly.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“By the lavatory. We’re all attached, but can’t get into each other’s quarters.”

“I like that. If I scream, come running!” she said.

“Stop being so paranoid.” I joked.

“Well, now I am on edge on my supposed-to-be-relaxing trip,” she quipped.

“You started it with your conspiracy theories and cult talk.” Silence. “Riley?”

“I’m here.”

“Need to unpack and think I’ll lie down for a bit. If you plan on venturing out, please wake me up.”

“I shall. Don’t worry.” She reassured me.

Unpacking transpired quickly, as I carried just a handful of items. I desperately needed a shower and found it outside by the water barrel. Made sense. The hot spray cooled my wet body with the warm breeze. I put my hair up in a towel and dressed in a cotton, loose dress. Taking a chair from inside the hut, I sat out on the small front porch, basking in the sunlight.

The vessel was still docked. I surmised they would push off in the morning, or else the police were waiting to do a thorough check of Beverly’s space before allowing it to leave. My mind raced in all directions. Exciting to be here, learning all I could about their program, exploring the island, and doing some swimming. Even so, within this situation, I reminded myself that a viable human being was gone. Someone I knew, though briefly, disappeared into thin air. And that puzzle needed solving.

Determined to speak to Samantha, I crossed the patio to where Riley was toweling her hair after using the outdoor shower. “I’m going to look for Samantha,” I said.

“Want me to tag along?” she asked.

“Probably. I shouldn’t roam around unescorted.”

Ten minutes later, we arrived at Samantha’s desk.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said.

“Are you familiar with Beverly, the missing passenger?” I asked.

“Yes, this is a first for the company. The constabulary is scheduled to be here in the morning. I’ve told my porter not a soul enters the yacht until it has been cleared.”

“Good to know. Have you been to the crime scene?” I asked.

“What makes you call it a crime scene?”

I detailed Riley’s search when we noticed her absence from breakfast. “Riley was visibly upset when she returned to give us an update. That action caused Aiden and me to enter her chamber, where we discovered a gruesome disaster. The captain was dismissive after being informed and acted mysteriously afterwards. Upon our arrival, we saw a cleaning crew waiting at the landing.” I inhaled a breath and waited for her response.

She showed no emotion and returned my gaze with the same sinister stare she had on the dock.

“Oh, my dear. You overreact, don’t you? I’m convinced it is a misunderstanding.”

“A what?” My mouth dropped. Riley’s eyes were enormous.

“Not the disappearance, but the captain’s reaction. He shares displeasure regarding the matter and intends to assist law enforcement. As far as the cleaning crew is concerned, that’s protocol. I sent them away as soon as I found out about the situation. Please do not worry about this. I can assure you, we will be diligent and thorough in understanding what occurred to Ms. Beverly. The group here shall learn fresh techniques plus unwind. We have a busy week planned for you all. Come, let’s proceed to the entertainment center; it’s time.”

Samantha patted us both on the shoulder, put her arms around our waists, and led us out of her office. “This way, please.” We followed like obedient puppy dogs. Restraint prevented a vocal outburst; Riley and I could discuss tonight at our leisure.

The room was abuzz with laughter and conversation when we entered. The tone changed to a low hum as everyone noticed Samantha walk in.

Kathy hurried over. “Where were you? You had me worried.” I mouthed a ‘sorry’ and linked arms with her. Aiden and Curt joined our group. To my surprise, twelve others shared our purpose.

This yurt was larger: a massive room with TV monitors, white linen tables, and chairs in the center, and a buffet with steaming trays on the sides. Samantha walked onto the makeshift stage and addressed the crowd. As she spoke, the screens flickered, displaying closed captioning in various languages.

After reviewing the schedule, she took questions, repeating each query for clarity. Then she said, “Enjoy yourselves tonight, but remember, we start bright and early tomorrow.”.

I couldn’t wait to get Riley alone to discuss what had happened in Samantha’s office. After a couple of drinks and some food, I caught Riley’s attention and tilted my head toward the door. We announced our goodnights, reminding everyone to pair up before returning to their rooms. We walked arm in arm, careful not to trip over a vine or tree root. It was so dark that the stars appeared to shine brighter. We could hear the waves lapping on the shore, and it seemed so peaceful. As we came upon the clearing, I noticed a dim light inside the now-black yacht.

“Didn’t Samantha say no one would be allowed to board until police arrived?” I whispered. Riley saw it, too. We dropped to our knees.

“What should we do?” she asked.

I paused. Should we tell Samantha? She might be back too late to see them, and she’d dismiss it as our imagination. Or do we risk it and check ourselves?

I chose the latter. “Let’s investigate it.”

Riley grabbed my arm. “Are you sure? What if it’s the killer? I’m too young to die today,” she whispered.

“I’ll sneak up there, and if I don’t return in ten minutes, go for help.”

“What? Are you crazy?” she said, gripping me tighter. “What happened to pairing up?”

“Then you’re coming with me. They can’t take us both on.”

We crawled through the sand until we got to the wooden dock. I remembered the opal rock I had placed in my pocket to show Riley earlier in the evening. I took it out, squeezed it in my palm just in case.


Editor: Shannon Hensley

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The Invitation

The Invitation: Part 4 The Invitation: Part 6
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LC Ahl (Lucy)

Lucy Cafiero, known professionally as LC Ahl, is a published author and senior editor with a career that blends creativity, advocacy, and mentorship. After spending 25 years in the construction industry as a purchasing agent, Lucy pivoted to writing following the 2008 recession and a personal experience with breast cancer in 2003. She has authored three books to date, including One in Eight: A Teen's Guide to Understanding Breast Cancer, the crime thriller The Purple Lily, and Shorts, a collection of short stories, while also contributing to numerous publications in fiction, creative nonfiction, travel, true crime, and political writing. Lucy earned her Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and English Language and Literature from Southern New Hampshire University in 2017, graduating summa cum laude. She joined Coffee House Writers in 2019, and three years later became a Senior Editor, leading a team of writers and performing developmental edits to help authors strengthen their manuscripts. Her editorial philosophy emphasizes clarity, perseverance, and openness to feedback, supporting writers in crafting impactful fiction and nonfiction. Beyond her professional achievements, Lucy is deeply engaged in her community and advocacy work. She has volunteered with organizations such as Network of Strength, focused on breast-health education, and Renegade Rescue, a dog rescue initiative. She continues to write her own novels, currently working on The Darkest Destination, a continuation of her crime thriller series, while balancing her editorial duties and mentoring emerging writers in the literary field. Lucy lives in Savannah, GA with her husband and two fur babies, Reece and Newman.

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