Episode 9A: Laugh and the World laughs with you; Weep and you Weep alone.

Maggie swings the door shut.

She pulls the cord from the phone, hits play, tossing the device and headphones to the bed as she makes her way to the closet.

I walk into the corner of my room, see my friends in high places
I don't know which is which and whom is whom, they've stolen each other's faces

She winces as its Autumn now, just before the first snow fall. They had just gotten out of a show. Who played? She didn't really know. She just went cause they said it was a classic in the making. In the end they had to shut down the concert early as things got out of hand. They basically tore the venue apart.

No...not basically.

She looks up and some kids got up in to the rafters and were ripping out whatever the hell is in roofs, the pink falling like snow.

What a waste.

The next thing she knows they're in the basement of some older kid they met to get the boy Vivian had been flirting with cleaned up. Because they hadn't figured out blood on the dance floor sucks. His nose dripping steadily as she went on about how hardcore it was. And him telling her how he almost got his tooth cracked by his snake bites at a concert in Minn*ap*lis. A lie no matter how many letters. Like the last one who wrestled a bear. As for this one, Maggie couldn't tell you his name. He didn't last too long. She'd seen this scene had played out before. No matter how he came they all go out the same. However for today he would lift the burden. And the bottle.

She doesn't sneer but turns away to find Selene. Maggie sees Pinot Noir, Tempranillo, Merlot, Valpolicella and Syrah in the sea of people but not Selene's particular shade of Alicante Bouschet.

When had so many people showed up?

The air becomes thick as she tries to suck it in then the smell takes it away from her entirely as something resembling a bipedal possum raises up his burning sacrament to her. And while she can't quite see his eyes she knows where their pointed. She swerves away and he nearly sets his friends on fire.

As they threw themselves to the floor she bolts up the stairs. She nearly makes it out for the shape at the top. Pink and blue hair framing a heart shaped eye patch. Three pins holding it in place. A bandaged wrist lifts a clove cigarette to his split lip. A milky white eye stares at her in the dim light.

"I know you." He says.
She scowls, "Nobody does."
"Then how can they hurt you so much?" He reaches out his hand.
A pile of little pills and a razor.
Maggie backs through the door as the smoke and squealing fill the chamber.

Music.
Song.
Drowning.
When had the house filled with so many people?

She grips the frame. A deep breath to anchor. She turns quickly and her breath leaves her.

Celeste slinks across the room.
Bachatas sounding in every step.
Maggie is back in her seventh summer.
Celeste smiles down at her, her wand creating Worlds from nothing.
Lands rising from white by thought.
How Maggie long to reach those shores.
She went on and on about her professor back in NYC as she showed Maggie the pictures.
The images of a life and shadows of its experiences.
Incriminations.
Then one day a video of her portrait of Anaisa on the pyre.
A week later the page became a memoriam.
Mom never brings her up anymore.

Even as she lights the candle.

Alina bangs in to the wall bringing Maggie back to this World.
Her mascara running down her big eyes, mouth open wide in horror and wonder.
Maggie can see the paper wadded on her tongue. Pink and soggy.
"I can see your light, Maggie. And the lady with the swords behind you."
She reaches out to touch Maggie who shoves her back. Alina trips her legs tangled in the white rug.
"Still so far to go." Alina whispers crawling back in to the dark.

Maggie tears through the door in to the frigid night.

Maggie runs until her lungs burn, better than the tightness in her chest.
She falls on to the steps. The lack of air too much.
She looks to the sky as the snow begins to fall.
Wetness on her face.

"Hate to break it to you but the show is over."

Maggie turns to a brunette with Eigengrau eyes smiling down at her.

"And here I am all dressed up and Snow-where to go. Hahaha, get it?"

Maggie scowls at the girl in the doorway.

She pulls at her collar, "Tough crowd. Ah well ask a Chilly question. Hahaha."

Maggie deepens her scowls.
She would get up and leave but for the weariness in her legs.
Besides it doesn't matter this girl will soon leave.
And Maggie will be alone again. It's better that way.

Then she'll be able to breath.

"Hmm." The girl grabs her chin in thought as she steps forward. "You seem really familiar." Maggie curls in on herself as the girl steps to the stairs. "It's Fall coming back to me."

Her foot skids on the concrete.

Maggie turns as she sees the leg whip up. Her eyes widen as she sees the brunette head falling back, arms splayed.

Maggie reaches out. Too far to do anything. But wait for the bang. The crash.

And yet all is still.
The girl is still.
Balancing on one leg. Arms straight out. Hands clench.

The girl pulls her arms towards her, her body moves forward. She moves her arm out, clench, then the other, pull again.
Maggie squints as the other girl levels out. She wipes the sweat from her brow dropping down next to her.
Maggie's eyes widen a faction.

She smiles under the scrutiny. "What? Do I Brr a resemblance to some one you use to Snow? Hahah, get it?"

Maggie frowns, "You could have killed yourself."

"Sorry something just told me that would be a Winter." She sniggers. "But seriously, I was right wasn't I? We met before?"

Maggie doesn't rub her arm. "You preformed at my birthday party."

She snaps, "That's right. It's not everyday I get roses."

Maggie colors. "Why are you still here?" She asks harshly.

"Ah you know just Chilling." She snorts again. "I saw this art studio while taking a stroll. I didn't think this town was big enough for one. I thought I'd check it out."

Maggie blinks looking at the building. It's still here.

"You like painting?" Incredulous.

"I appreciate all art. While I'm more in to the performance side of things. Inspiration can be found anywhere." She smiles at Maggie wistfully. And she feels that creeping feeling in her chest again.

"What's your name?" She says without thinking.

"Oh yeah, I never got to talk to you. I'm Luan Loud, semi-professional fool." She holds out her hand. Maggie can't take it. Luan's smile falters a little.

"I-i'm Maggie. Cioabă."

"Maggie." She parrots with a grin. "Cioabă. Cool name."

Before Maggie could respond Luan's phone started ringing. She frowns as she checks the text. "Looks like I'm wanted back home."

The girl stands brushing herself off.

"Stay Cool, Maggie. Icy you around. Hahah, get it?"

And with that Maggie is alone again.

It doesn't help.

Maggie takes a deep breath as she catches a glimpse of herself in the window.
Same old faded clothes. Dreary. It doesn't matter.
Same old feeling creeping up through her belly. She clenches her eyes plugging the cord back in. Play. Out the door before she can change her mind. She hits the bottom of the stairs as her mother meets her.

"Ready, Maggie? Say goodbye to your dad."

She nods moving into the edge of the room. Her father changes the channel.

The spin. The double speak pulls her along. Out of joint. She clasps her hands uselessly.

Don't it make you feel so sad, don't the blood rush to your feet
To think that everything you do today, tomorrow is obsolete?
Technology and women and little children too
Don't it make you feel blue? Don't it make you feel blue?

He smiles, "Yes, puișor? You have something to say?"

She tears her eyes from the T.V.

"Bye, tată."

He laughs, "Have fun. Remember home by 8."

"Luan will probably come back with me. Watch that new horror movie I got."

"Thats fine just let your mother know to make an extra plate. Love you, Magda."

She nods turning to leave.

Goodbye.

…

Luan had excused herself from the flurry of activity.

The day had been a success. Both shows not a hitch. And from her impression many of the parents had already decided to book her in advance.

She tightens her grip on the planner as she drops in her chair.

The networking had gone longer than expected. She was going to be late. She had already texted her bolshie friend even mentioning the three hundred dollar tip. Yeah, that didn't go over well.

Luan sighs staring at the girl in the mirror.

They were alone. No lights. No audience. No reason to preform.

No reason to hide. To compensate. To—

She groans running her hand across her face. She stares in to the mirror.

Let's start with the black marbles rattling around in her head.

Everyone else had such pretty eyes. From Lori's slight heterochromia through Lily's Harlequin green. Various shades of blue, green and brown each highlighting their character. But when it came to Luan the universe just took a sharpie and said, 'eh that'll do'.

Another sigh and her teeth glinted. Well not her surfboards, Daggit. But the ounce of metal trying to shape it in to something resembling human. At the cost of most foods with actual taste and looking like a spindly stick. So much for puberty. Heck if it wasn't for the ponytail you wouldn't know which way she was facing. Of course that had the added effect of a widow's peak that...that…

"Huh." Luan shakes her head. "Something something Eddie Munster."

And that's why Luan wasn't an insult comic. Her heart just wasn't in it. She really didn't like putting people down. Even herself. There's already enough people willing to do that.

Not that she couldn't hold her own.

Once more she regards the girl in the mirror. How fortunate she found a love for comedy as she would have been destined to be the butt of jokes without it.

She stares in to the dark eyes of the girl. The color of her soul⸮ Trying not to count the days until April Fools.

"Uh, Luan, are you ready?"

Dang it. Now she was really going to be late. "Yeah." She gives an ear to ear but she can tell he didn't by it. "Sorry Link, these double headers. I know you must be worn out if I'm this tired."

He shrugs shuffling slightly. "Yeah, well, its worth it."

He's right. "Yeah it is." Earn it.

She gives the okay to the members of Chunk's union to begin packing up the stage, taking it back to her storage space. Not getting much use these days anyways.

Get a move on. We're late, we're late, for a very important d- "What a day. Don't worry about cleaning the props just put them in the garage I'll deal with them tomorrow." If we're in such a hurry why are we stal-. "And remind mom and dad I won't be needing dinner. I'll probably just get something at the mall." Fine, lets go. "Oh and Lincoln. Thanks again. I really couldn't do this without help."

"Sure you could." He tries to assure her.

Except those things can only be met halfway.

"It wouldn't be nearly as good. My success is your success, Lincoln." She chuckles at the turn about. Honestly, right now, he needed reassurance. The conversation from yesterday was not lost on her. And her conversation this morning with Lacy had seemed to help somewhat. If only for a moment it was still a moment of ease.

"Now go home and play with your kid, old man."

"Hey your older than me." Her brother complains. "Sure you got some running around too."

Her mind goes blank.

It's unimaginable.

Just another impossibility.

She holds her smile. "Now that's a scary thought." Best give up on it. "Wonder if she's an Aries."

She leaves him there confused. She pulls her hair free as the warm wind blows.

Much too early to be this tired.

...

Maggie closes the door the ever present beeping calling out her disregard for her own safety. Fuckin' narc.
She clicks her fingers along her thumbnail.
As her mother backs out of the drive way.

"I was thinking of fettuccine tonight. Will Luan be joining us?"

"Is that alright?" She challenges.

"I figured as much." Her mother glances at her side-eyed. "I will admit I did like when you started hanging out with her."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"Not that I have anything against Vivian or Seline. How are they by the way? They haven't been over much. You aren't fighting are you?"

"No. Just been busy."

Maggie looks out the window.

Father, why are all the children weeping?
They are merely crying son
Oh, are they merely crying, father?
Yes, true weeping is yet...to come

It was that line that finally made Maggie understand.
You don't grow out of this.
It will follow you all the days of your life. Called or uncalled. It will always be present.

The water beckoned her.

This is a weeping song
A song in which to weep
While all the men and women sleep
This is a weeping song

Maggie scratches at her wrist.

But I won't be weeping long

"Luan is, uh, such a nice girl."

Maggie scowls.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"You let her know she is welcome to come over whenever she likes."

"Mi casa es su casa." Maggie drolls out.

Her mother chuckles, "I regret not teaching you Spanish. But we never really use it in the house."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"I know your father regrets not teaching you his people's language."

"Is that right?"

"Compulsions, mi hija."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"They don't make sense but you still feel like doing them."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"Hmm." Is all she can get out her jaw so tight.

"But you can get over it. Just remind yourself that it is wrong."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack Clack. Clack.

"Sometimes we have a hard time seeing what is good for us. And we will latch on to anything." He mother tightens her hands on the steering wheel.

"Hmm."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Cla—

"Magdalena you can talk to me about anything. You know that, don't you?"

"What?"

She finally moves her eyes to the woman sitting next to her. Line of her mouth tight and brows weary.

"I just wanted to make sure you know that. You can come to me and your father if you ever have something to tell us. No matter what we will always love you, Magpie."

Her face imploring. Begging even.

Oh father, tell me are you weeping?
Your face seems wet to touch
Oh, then I'm so sorry, father
I never thought I hurt…you so much

"Why are you... What is this about?" Aggression isn't about violence.

Her mother silently switches lanes, "It's just we feel like we aren't very involved in your life anymore. I know your dad has to travel a lot. And between my job and your little sister...I just don't want you to ever feel you're alone." She gives a slight chuckle, "I mean when you started hanging around Luan it was a bit of a shock to be honest."

Maggie curls in on herself. Level 4 frown.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did that come about? Why her?"

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"I couldn't get her to leave." Maggie says dismissively.

Her mother laughs as Maggie notices they are nearly there. They exit on to the feeder.

Very nearly free.

No, I won't be weeping long

…

"What happened to your eye!"

"Eugh!" Leman rises up snorting. Touches his fingers to his lips tapping Lupe on the forehead as he makes his way to the kitchen. Lupe doesn't flinch as she and Lacy are too enthralled by watching the hysterical woman paw at their aunt.

LJ massages his eyes.

'大象拉屎 ' *Raucous laughter* I...can't...breath… 'Then fucking die already.' First contact, Junior? What will you do now? 'The scenario stands.'

Lynn and Ronnie Anne share a look before the latter turns to her brother's stone face.

"Carol. Carol! I'm fine it was an accident." The other blonde gives her such a look. But this is Lori Loud. She gives one right back. "There was an accident in my little sister's lab. She was showing off to our cousins and," She mimes an explosion. "I'm fine its just a bump when I crashed in to Luna. Except in the confusion Lisa and cousin Lita ran off. "Now Bobby's cousin Junior," LJ looks up. "it turns out is a penpal with Lita so he came up with a plan. Except we need another driver to help and since your my best friend," She places her hand on Carol's shoulder. "I was hoping you would help. I know its asking a lot and I really will owe you but please Carol. For me." She rubs Carol's bicep.

"Have a heart do your part."

Lupe is hiding in her poncho at this point. Lacy joins her. LJ sighs.

Carol looks away frowning, "Oh you are definitely going to owe me now." She regains her haughty air. "So what is it you need me to do?"

Lori smiles at her, "Just a ride to the mall. Maybe back."

Carol raises her brow a quick glance to Bobby then back. "Who a ride?"

"Me." She turns to the girl standing behind her. "My name is Lacy Loud."

Carol regards the girl, "What is it with you people and Ls?" She looks over Lacy's shoulder at the girl on the couch. "And you are?"

"Elvira Ruidosa Santiago y Ramiro and that's my brother Jacky-boy."

Bobby's wall falls and even Ronnie Anne visibly reacts.

Carol shakes his head. "You are right Lori. You are my best friend." She gives her a look of hurt. "So I think I deserve to know what was is really going on."

Lupe claps chuckling, "You always do find the Ace." Flick, full house.

LJ steps forward but then his father speaks, "Junior, Lupe, Lacy and her brother Leman in the kitchen are our kids from the future." He keeps his eyes down. "Well, me and Ronnie Anne and my sister Lynn." His voice flat. "The girl we are looking for is my sister Luan's daughter. We didn't know she was here until about an hour or so ago. And my sister Lisa is the only one that can figure out how to send them back. We also don't want Luan to know about this on the off chance it changes the future."

Carol studies each of them. "Huh." She stops on LJ. "You specifically told Lori to call me?"

LJ nods, "You are her best friend. That makes you family. And Lupe is right, not much gets past you."

Carol runs it through her head.

It's crazy. But that seems par for course according to Lori's stories.

She looks at Lori again. Considering asking about the eye again. But then she notices the gutter-punk shifting uncomfortably.

"Yeah." She narrows her eyes. "You're definitely going to owe me for this one."

...

Maggie enters the church of consumerism. Itself an outdated institution quickly being abandoned by the march of progress and more efficient ways to consume and be wasteful.

Why is she even here?
What does it matter?
Why is she friends with Luan?

The wintergreen, the juniper
The cornflower and the chicory
All the words you said to me
Still vibrating in the air

Maggie lays on her bed, scowling at the page mocking her. She writes done the rest of the stanza hoping it will jump start her creativity.

Except Maggie isn't a poet.

Not that she's trying to be.

She looks at the painting across from her bed. An original by a gone and forgotten artist. A vision of a World exclusive to her sight. Even now Maggie wonders the wonders of that World. What lead that woman to the seven sorrows that pierce her?

And was that how the artist went?

Maggie shakes her head looking back to the page. Why couldn't this come? At times she felt she could see it just out side her grasp. But then she puts the words down and no one understands her. No one feels anything.

Nothing moves.

St. John of the Cross did his best stuff
imprisoned in a box
And Johnny Thunders was half alive
when he wrote Chinese Rocks

Except Johnny Thunders didn't write Chinese Rocks.
DeeDee Ramone and Richard Hell did.
Johnny could sing it because he lived that life too. He knew that familiar pain.
But Maggie will never go to CBGB. And she swears she'll never do that other thing.

Yet she still feels it.

It moves her.
Why?
What is the secret?

"I don't understand why people hate puns?"

Maggie looks up from the page to Luan across the table.

"Or wordplay in general." Luan shakes her head with a huff. "And don't give me that they're the lowest form of comedy. Why, because they only require you to speak the same language as the pun-ter?"

"Because anyone can do it. No matter how unfunny they are."

Luan hums, "Maybe. But just cause anyone can doesn't mean they should." She reaches in to her backpack pulling out a yellow notebook. She flips the pages full of scribbles and jagged lines. "That is the nature of comedy. Or anything really. Luna has taught me some cords but I can't play like she does. Lucy is a poet and while I can rhyme and string words together its not the same."

"That's cause she's a goth."

Luan rolls her eyes, "It's the feeling. The emotion. I use my words to raise people. Or my miming. My magic." She looks thoughtful to the sky. "And I guess that's what words are in the end. Magic. Something that doesn't seem to exist but still makes you feel something. They change you." She smiles looking back at her friend. "Even when people groan at my puns they still feel something." Her smile falters as she looks to the page. "Even if it wasn't what I was hoping."

Maggie bites her lip, "Maybe if you didn't call attention to them so much."

Luan looks at her. Maggie doesn't, "It's like your asking people to see how clever you are. Showing off. Let people figure it out on their own. It's probably more satisfying that way."

Luan nods, "Yeah, probably..." She trails off, "I just...don't want to be misunderstood."

"Then never create anything."

Maggie groans laying her face on the page before turning on to her back.
She curls her toes rustling the fabric between them.
Looking at the faces in the dots of her ceiling.

Send that stuff on down to me

Why is she doing this⸮
None of it matters.
Who cares what a 13 year-old in nowhere Michigan thinks⸮ Or feels⸮

She is no one.
And no one will care.
She clicks the pen seven times in her left hand. The moves it to her right.
What is it she hopes to accomplish⸮

Maggie laughs.

Honest to goodness. Embarrassing snort and everything.

Luan beams sitting next to her. "Yeah. He was one of the first people that really made me understand the power of words."

Yes how the government, the media, corporations and the church. How everyone tries to control the way you think by changing how you see the World.

How you're even able to understand it.

And here is this angry old man using it against them.

Taking their precious words and turning them on their heads.

Making them a joke.

No, they always were. It was always ridiculous.

He's rude and crude and Maggie should be offended by some of what he says (...elpmaxe rof stit s'nauL tuoba tib eht ekiL) but that is the point.

Everyone, everything, gets challenged.

No one's fucking special.

Laun tells her he died almost ten years ago.

And yet, still, he's right. Even now.

"It's called the American dream because you have to be asleep to believe it."

Maggie sighs, looking down as the escalator takes her up.
The people rushing to and fro. Hither and thither. Where do they all come from⸮
Are these the people she is writing for? To be bought and consumed and forgotten on a shelf with out a passing thought?
A superficial topic of conversation.
A prop to hold up an image⸮ Hmm, pun in there somewhere.

Then again Maggie shouldn't look down on them.
What does she think she is? Special?
Do books even have power anymore?
When they have become so sanitized. Easier to consume. The nutritional value of a burping burger combo.

Escapism.

God, Maggie hated the word.
Then why is she carrying that notebook in her purse⸮
What is it she even wants⸮

I just want to move the World
I just want to move the World
I just want to move the World
I just want to move

"Is that what your puns are? Passive aggression? Resistance?"

"The pen is mightier than the sword and my puns can slay a whole room. Or at least make them groan like dying." She laughs. "Like that horror film we saw the other day."

Maggie scowl deepens. "The one you ruined for me?"

"Yup." She says without remorse. "I was terrified until I realized how ridiculous it all was."

Yes she spent the rest of the movie joking about the slasher's appearance and the teenagers' decisions.

Really put a damper on Maggie's schadenfreude.

"And that's the point. No matter how strong you are. Powerful or scary. Once your a joke, that never goes away. So in the end who is to be feared? The king or his jester." The light glints off her braces. Her dark eyes wide.

Maggie swallows the lump in her throat. "You're more devious than you let on, Loud."

She winks, "Just wait 'till April."

Maggie moves past the music store.
Not her World.
Past the florist.
Not it either.

She has the choice of right or left.
She knows the stores to the left.
What is there left for her there⸮

I look at you and you look at me and
deep in our hearts, babe, we know it
That you weren't much of a muse,
but then I weren't much of a poet

"This is a joke right?" Maggie says genuinely horrified.

"Pbt. Well, duh, they're pranks." Luan clenches the bed spread.

Maggie looks back at the page, "This is three steps away from torture porn."

Luan stares at her blankly. "What?" Her voice wavering.

"Luan someone could have been seriously hurt. If just one thing went wrong or someone wasn't in the exact spot you anticipated." Maggie hated the urgency in her own voice.

Luan looked away, "The secret source of humor itself is not joy, but sorrow."

Now Maggie knew that one, 'Everything human is pathetic.'

Maggie just didn't have words of her own to respond.

Luan left. A few days later she said this was the last year of pranks. Her family had shown her the difference between comedy and tragedy.

Maggie took a breath of relief.

"Well they are sister, Spooky." She smiles, "Sometimes I can't tell who I'm serving."

Maggie looks at the yellow notebook. And at the pen in her own hand.

She can't hear anything.

I will be your slave
I will peel you grapes
Up on your pedestal
With your ivory and apes
With your book of ideas
With your alchemy
O Come on
Send that stuff on down to me

Maggie drops down on the bench.
Staring across to the corporate booksellers.
She chitters her nails on the bench.
The people, the World, the planets and stars move indifferent to her existence.
Systems within systems.

She knows now she has to serve something.
But can't that at least be her choice⸮
Something real. Something genuine. Something meaningful.
Something that will last.

Something that will change the World.

"Thank you! Goodnight!" Luan bows to the applause.

Maggie can't tell if shes in her backyard or still at the club.

Luan smiles at her before she exits the stage.

"Wow. I wish I could do that." She hears a child say. But when she looks she doesn't see one.

Luan drops in to the booth. "What do you think?"

Maggie swallows, "You certainly have your character down."

Luan chuckles, "Maybe. As much as I live for this. I don't know if they're the ones I do it for."

"Yourself, right?" Maggie gives her an unimpressed look.

Luan takes a drink, "My sister Luna loves to go on about the concert that changed her life. How she saw the World." She places the glass back down. "I knew it even younger watching Benny Hill singing a silly song about lost love." She gives a small smile, "There is enough people in this World that can make you cry. I want to make you laugh. If I do a really good job. I can make you want to make others laugh too." Luan nods slowly, "Yeah. Somewhere out there is one person." Her smile grows, "One person who does get it. And they'll speak to someone else. And someone else. And someone else."

Maggie doesn't chew at her lip. "Like a virus."

"Yup. Why else would they call laughter infectious?" She chortles, "Gooble gobble. Gooble gobble." She grabs her sides.

Maggie just watches her, red faced, sweaty, tears leaking from her eyes.

Luan stares in to her eyes. Eigenlicht. "Get it?"

Maggie swallows. And nods. "I understood that reference."

Luan squints, "Reference?" Then laughs at Maggie's expression.

Maggie blinks the World returning to focus.

Maggie checks her phone.
–On my way Spooky–
Maggie's lip quivers.

She looks aways to a cafe.
Some one reading a book.
An old worn one with the old painted covers.
A blonde woman surrounded by pinkish flowers. Her face made up like a skull. And in large letters,

The Big Sleep.

She sees the woman laugh.
She can't hear her but she hears a laugh anyways.
The woman leans forward as if to see it better.
As if she could jump in to that World painted by black ink on yellowed paper.

Maggie reaches for her notebook.

In vibrant Prussian blue she writes the words at the top of the page.
Followed by a synopsis of a book she's never heard off based on a cover seen from afar belonging to a woman she'll never meet.
A story of a tragic love, of betrayal, of vengeance beyond the grave and the blurring of fact and fiction.
She blinks at the seven page outline she's written.
Maggie looks to the window again but the woman is gone.
Just as well.

She has her own reading to do.

There she goes, my beautiful World
There she goes again

…

The Louds, Santiagos and single Pingrey file out of the House

As her boots hit the boards, "Regulators!" Lupe smirks flickering her wrist to reveal a pair of blue tea-shades. "Mount up." She chuckles slightly at Carol's concealed pout as they head to their designated vehicles.

Fine, they had to get out of the house anyway Leman had begun to season and sear the meat.

'The spice must flow.' Booo. 'You are the last one to judge me on reference humor.'

She wrinkles her nose. Faintly she could hear Leman hacking up a lung in the backyard.

Lucy had beaten them to the Bodega van pulling off the tarp. Leaving it pooled in front of the garage.

Lupe slides in to her seat holding her laughs long enough for the doors to close. "Show of hands, who saw that coming?"

Bobby lays his head against the seat as he turns the engine over. Lori puts the compress back on her eye. Lucy is silent.

"Good to see LJ finally dealing in. Even if he is still playing it safe." She shakes her head disappointed. "Ol' Bret would be disappointed, 'Faint heart never filled a flush'."

Bobby looks in the rearview. Not asking what he can't form, instead, "Where to first?"

"Eat Diner Coffee. She loves to work on her narration there." Head shift to the right. "Pie's alright too."

Carol for her part slips on her designer sunglasses. Trying not to sneer at Luna as she moves to the passenger seat.

She really didn't want to do this.

As she unlocks the car she gives a lingering glance to the van.

'Dang it.'

Carol slides in to her seat, straight and queenly. As Luna practically crumpled in to the passenger's.

'If she puts her feet on my dash I swear...'

The chimes cease and buckles click before she turns over the engine. The audio confirmation of a finely engineered system that she did not fully appreciate.

The car backs out of the driveway as Faust's strings give way to Gretchen's winds.

Carol regards the white haired boy sitting in the back. Seeming to wrestle with something in his mind. And the girl smiling at his side. She is mouthing something as she sways to the music.

"So you're from the future? What's that like?"

Luna and even Lincoln give a furtive glance.

"Spoilers." She does not alter her passive smile. "There are two ways to look at them." She peers in to robin blue. "One, you are thunderstruck by how it all falls together and either fight the tide or enjoy the ride. Or B, you accept it but you are constantly questioning if your making the right choices."

Carol is quiet for a moment. "That's technically three. And a really round about way of saying nunya."

Lacy chuckles, "I've been here three days."

"Bet Lori didn't like hearing that." Flick the turn signal. "Is that why Bobby is back in town?"

Lacy takes a slight breath through her nose, "Well you know Tío Bobby, Aunt Carol."

The driver doesn't react but gets the sense she is bein-oh who is she kidding, she's Carol Pingrey, she's always being watched. "I guess it's good to know that me and Lori are still friendly," She adjusts her grip. "even after all that time."

"Things hard fought tend to be valued the most. And even if things don't turn out like you want, well. It's like the song goes, eh, Aunt Luna?"

"When you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need'." Luna concedes.

Lincoln kept his eyes forward but he decided to try his son's trick. Because his son made the teams, he wanted him to go with Lacy.

Why?

Carol felt some discomfort by that. However she decided they must have been talking about some other thing. Something to do with the wannabe rocker.

Totally.

"Hey you mind if I change the channel? This is kinda depressing."

"Don't touch my radio." Like steel.

"Oh come on. I like Liszt too but it seems a bit uh..." Carol was more surprised the headbanger knew who it was.

"Lacy." Lincoln says.

"Ominous. Unpropitious. Minacious if just a bit in relation to our mission." Lacy shifts her head from side to side. "ちょっと."

"What she said?" Luna consigns.

"So, what, noise and shrieking is a more auspicious sound to you?"

"Maybe." Luna gives a smug vicious smile. She hits a random button.

"Hey don't touch my radio!" She hits the button on her steering wheel.

"Come on, you can't be a music lover if you don't expand your horizons." She hits another button.

"This is my car and my music! You don't like it you can walk!"

Luna nods. And starts pushing all the buttons. Ever.

Carol reaches over trying to stop her. "I will kick your ass right out of this car, gutterpunk!"

"Oh I'd like to see that Pillow Princess. Come and 'ave a go if you think you're 'ard enuff!"

Lacy hops forward placing her hands on their shoulders, "Turn it up Aunt Carol! This one is a classic!" The horns hit Carol. And she accidentally hits the volume.

I've seen your picture
Your name in lights above it

Lacy starts snapping returning to her seat. Luna starts bobbing her head, too lost in the groove to give in to aggression.

Carol considered changing it but this was actually pretty good. She could appreciate the complexity. The virtuosity. The vive.

And it is really catchy.

So won't you smile for the camera
I know they're gonna love it

Luna started to sink in deeper. These guys are really cookin'.

Then the solo hit.

"Dude!" Air guitar.

Lincoln turns his head to Lacy. She winks.

All teeth.

"I'm pretty sure I know where she is going." LJ looks out the window. "Hell there is only one place she'll feel she can go."

Rita nods from the driver's seat, "I figured as much." She turns on to the newly learned route.

LJ was in the middle seat alone as his mothers sat ahead of him. "When we get there I need to speak to her alone. I'll convince her to come back."

Lynn Sr. looks at the kids in the mirror, "Are you sure you're okay LJ? And you too Ronnie Anne? A lot has happened today."

LJ scoffs, "I guess this is the point when I tell you I have dinner plans tomorrow." That got some eyebrows. "I..." Sigh. "made a friend...as much as I tried not too."

Huh? Seemed to be the collective unspoken response.

LJ's breath fogs the glass. "What does it mean to be the author of your own destiny?" Lynn's face goes flat. "And does being such make destiny your enemy?"

"Eugh!" RaRa holds her hand over the seat. Thumb priming the index. "Nose."

Lynn chortles. LJ pouts.

Ronnie Anne takes her hand back. She takes a breath, "Lincoln Joaquin Santiago-Loud." Another breath, "That's your name. I know that because I decided you are going to be my son." She meets her in-laws eyes in the mirror. "This morning I didn't think it was possible. And now that I do I'm not letting the universe take my family from me." Not again.

Lynn puts her arm around Ronnie Anne, "What she said, Lefty. Seriously, how 'bout you quit being such a little bitch⸮"

"Lynn!" Her mother barks. "Don't use that kind of language."

She rolls her eyes, "Like he's never heard me say that before."

"You still shouldn't talk like that. Especially to your nephew."

Lynn, her arm still around RaRa, gives the girl a sly smirk.

Ronnie Anne returns it, "Well he is being one."

Rita shakes her head as the girls laugh.

LJ massages his eyes.

...

I was just a boy when I sat down
To watch the news on TV
I saw some ordinary slaughter
I saw some routine atrocity
My father said, don't look away
You got to be strong, you got to be bold, now
He said, that in the end it is beauty
That is going to save the World, now

Maggie can't really remember it that clearly.
It just seems to have always been this way.
Her hatred for the World and its pervasive indifference.
It's predatory system of consumption 'till the stomach bursts. Burn down the house to keep warm. Create a wasteland and call it peace. Individualism through dehumanization.
Rage at her own insignificance in the face of it. That is where equality lies, in our shared insignificance to the World and its system propped up by the folly of the powerful sold as reason.

So what if she can see the madness of it?
Does she think that makes her special?
Is she so in love with her own wit? Opinions? Thoughts?

"To be sane in a World of madman is in itself madness."

Of course that would be implying she is any different than them.
That she is not subject to folly. To illogical thoughts. Beliefs. Convictions. That she has ever truly acted in accordance with her best interests.
She is human after all.
Subjects to all the failings of her species.
Psychosis is the loss of connection with External Reality.
But what is Reality really?
Reality is perception. Reality is popular opinion. There is no way to experience Reality with out the senses and the interpretations of that data. Interpretation is assigning meaning. Therefore, interpretation is the active expression of a system of beliefs. Thoughts and convictions.
Then what is madness?

"Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively."

So how could Maggie change the World and not just inflict her own personal folly on to it?
Surely she should conquer that first before her words could have any legitimacy.
Or at least make her feel legitimate.
What order could arise from a mind filled with so much static?
Thoughts. Words. Images. Feelings.
To and fro. Hither and thither. Round and around the ragged rock the ragged rascal ran.
Maybe that is what psychosis really is.
Just being out of sync with the rest of the World.
Moving both too fast and all at once too slow.
The persistent notion that her veins were filled with nothing but slag and oil.

It would explain the pain.

The heat and pressure that is constantly building up in her chest. Choking. Trapping.
The pain that was not pain, that would wrack her body and cripple it. Seizing her from base to limb.
She can visualize it. A Stygian current narcotizing and liquefying her insides. Her hands grow cold as the heat is leeched from them pulled to her chest. Her heart roasting.
The need to bleed out the caustic black smoke before it melts her from the inside.
But she never does.
Because it is absurd.
Though she has come close.

But there were other things she could do.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack Clack. Clack.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Next hand. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Cli– Fuck! Start over.
Fuck. Cocksucker. Cool. Convalesence. Consanguinous. Christ. Kabalah.
Kä. Kä. Kä. Kä. Kä. Kä. Kä.

Injurious in a completely different way.

Again...
How can she make the World better when she is so messed up?
Broken.
For that is the message we give to the Mentally Ill. That they are deficient. Because they are cogs that can't fit in the machine.
Fine. Whatever.
People make it worse anyways. Better to stay away from them.
They impose madness on themselves. And worse, they refuse to see it. To recognize it.
And least she is honest. What little solace to be had in that. Just remember doing things you should be doing anyways doesn't make you special.

"Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination."

Later she read the Buddhists believe that to live is to suffer.
In her limited experience, yeah.
Emotions. Experiences. That necessitates a continuum.
A peak and a valley.
Fine. Sound logic.

But its all the unnecessary suffering that Maggie takes offense to.

Rampant discrimination. Economic exploitation. Dehumanization of swaths of people needed to hold up a society. To make it function.
The need for an Us and Them.
A means to an end. A stepping stone. People as things.
Utilitarianism.
Logic. Without compassion.

"Civilization has made man, if not always more bloodthirsty, at least more viciously, more horribly bloodthirsty."

Celeste shows her Zdzisław Beksiński.
She cried.
Because he got it.

The World is beautiful because it isn't.

Maggie knew she had to make peace with her suffering.
Be a friend to it.
Or it would consume her.
Yet humans are 60% water and they can still drown.
Irony.

Divine comedy.

And she moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
She moves something deep inside of me

Maggie returns to the art studio.
Another painful compulsion. She lives with so many. What is one more⸮
A straw to a camels back, likely.
She contemplates the painting of a tree.
Knowing she sees seeing one entirely different from the rest of them.

Logic or vanity⸮

"I don't know about you but I'm stumped. Hahah, get it?"

Maggie can't help but jump.

Luan smiles at her, "So why do so many artist draw trees anyway? Well, I guess it's a growth industry." Again she laughs calling some of the patrons to look at their way.

Maggie curls her fingers.

"I will say that the use of pink and purple really spruceit up. Hahaha."

"Will you stop?"

Luan frowns, "Moss I?" She snorts.

"Your too loud."

"No, I'm Luan Loud. 1st of the Luans. 4th of the Louds. 6th if you count Mom and Dad." She grabs her chin in thought.

Maggie walks away.

"Hey come on don't Leafme Fall alone." She follows after. "I just wanted to know what you were Wisteria-n at."

She rears back on the clown, "Its an art gallery. You're suppose to contemplate in reserved silence."

"I thought it was a studio which implies the act. And why should it be quiet?"

"Courtesy to others." Maggie huffs. "How would you feel if someone was heckling you during your art?"

"Ah you called it art, I'm touched. Anyways, I'd probably think, 'Oooh kindling'." The light glints of her braces. "But I do get what your saying its just," She turns her eyes away then points at a new picture.

Two jesters.

One in stark white, pallid, frumpy and uncomfortable. Next to him a vibrant and colorful foil standing tall and grand.

"Pierrot and Harlequin." Luan says. "I knows those names so it effects how I see it. I could see the history of the characters. What they are suppose to mean. What this is a scene of. But personally, I see the difference between British and American comedy."

Maggie blinks.

"The fool and the trickster. Comedic figures designed to amuse but they do so in very different ways." She moves closer to the painting. "Pierry here is the born loser. No matter what he does he will fail spectacularly. And why we may feel for the poor doomed soul his incompetence is still hilarious." She turns to the foil. "Then there's Harly. The devilish rouge. The unruly slave. He makes a mockery of the system and a fool of everyone for his own gain. He's just so cool and clever and funny as he damns them all. And himself." She turns her smile on the girl. "You've seen these two everywhere. No matter the mask they wear now. All comedy can be seen on this spectrum." She holds her hands out, "I am both. That is my role. To bring laughs. Whether I'm in a comedy or a tragedy. I still have my art." She smiles, "Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto in una smorfia il singhiozzo e 'l dolor, ah. Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor."

Maggie brows disappear behind her bangs. "Am I suppose to know what that means?"

Luan chuckles, "I take my clowning very seriously. I look at these paintings and they speak to me in the language of comedy. What does it say to you?"

Maggie really looks at the painting now.

What did it say?

"Pierrot is a ghost. A victim of the Harlequin. Doomed to wander as a restless spirit until justice has been served. Growing more and more demonic as he watches Harlequin waltz through broken life after broken life. His fury and jealousy turning it from a noble goal of stopping a monster from destroying others to a consuming obsession of seeing the trickster destroyed. Torn apart and devoured. Dragged in to this Hell with him to which there is no escape. Because Hell is carried with you everywhere."

Luan smiles brightly, "Oooh, spooky. I can see it. Pierry keeps trying to get him with one prank after another. Squeaky shoes. Persistent drip from the faucet. Banana peel. Each time Harlequin ignores it. Or turns it in to a joke. He stands," Luan puts her hands on her hips, "Is that the best you have, clown? You never were very imaginative." She raises her finger to the sky, "It will take more than that to best the great Harlequin." Prat fall. "Shoelaces! Really‽" Luan jumps to her feet crowding the other girl, "Then the grand ball scene where Pierry keeps driving Harly to make a fool out of himself in-front of the elite. And as Il Capitano holds the sword to his throat for his insolence. That's when Harly uses his words, his guile and wit to spin and twist, acrobatics of the mind to ensnare those too stodgy and inflexible to imagine."

There is the tightness again. This time though she sees not her blood. But Harly escaping his justice again. She snarls, "And that is when Pierrot can stand no more. A crack of lightning and the chime of the bell as a new figure pale and lifeless as the grave strides across the stage. He rages and condemns them for their folly, their foolishness, their inanity that has blinded them from the truth in front of them. That has locked them in their roles in this farce. That they can not see beyond their own masks."

Luan smile somehow gets wider as she raises her arms to the sky, "If it's madness you want then it is madness you will get. Send in the clowns!"

"And the doors and windows burst open as a cacophony of chittering cackles and hellascious howls ripple through the air. The denizens of the damned. Legions of Pierrots fed to the World for their sorrow and grief. The faceless and nameless. The punchlines to the joke."

"And imps of every color and size, contorted and twisted in mockeries of natural form and logic. They tear in to the party wreaking havoc on the set. Tearing down the walls. No regard for role, status, position or line."

"Repent, Harlequin!, cries the king as the demons pants him and kick him in the backside." Maggie lips curl. "The pompous, blowhard, cowardly captain tries to flee but in his hast to discard his mask trips on it falling down the stairs, his sword lost they crowd him with their slap-sticks."

"But it is much too late for that. When he looks he doesn't see Pierrot but Alichino, transformed in to the infernal Harlequin. While he himself has become the damned fool. Now whose laughing?"

"He who laughs last laughs best."

Luan and Maggie smile at each other. All teeth and ragged breath.
Wide-eyed.
Frenzy.

Slowly the World presses itself on Maggie once again reminding her she is in a public place.
She begins to feel the same familiar pain.
Her fingers curl.
Until Luan grabs her hand. "Comedy and tell me what you think of this one."
Maggie is swept along before she can get her barrings.

And she moves among the flowers
And she floats upon the smoke
She moves among the shadows
She moves me with just one little look

"Dang it!" Luan exclaims.

Maggie snaps her eyes to her.

"Sorry, its just...we should've written that stuff done it was really good." Luan reaches in to her bag, a yellow spiral clasped in her finger.

"Oh well. That's life, gone before you know what to do with it."

"Pbbt. I'm serious I was just having too much fun to think of it."

Maggie doesn't pick at her lips or inside of her mouth with her teeth. Her jaw is set.

"I'm surprised you don't carry one."

Maggie raises a brow, "Why?"

"Your obviously an artist. Or a sketch book if your a painter."

"I'm not." Maggie says much too fast and terse.

Luan doesn't react, "I'm serious. Anyone of those would have been a killer play." She giggles. "Or story. Or something." The girl urges.

"If you say so." Maggie says dismissively.

Luan stands in front of her, cutting off her path, "I am saying so."

Maggie stands rigid.

"Those were really cool. I'd love to see what you'd do with them."

Maggie looks away, running her thumbnail on the pads of her fingers, then fingernails on the pad of her thumb, "I've" She scowls, "tried. I hated it. Everything I wrote was a terrible, clichéd, rambling mess."

Luan grins, "Oh you are definitely a writer."

Maggie turns her eyes back on her.

"My sister Luna is a musician. I can't tell you the amount of times she would chuck a song in the waste bin only to fish it out later. My sister Leni designs clothes. But her guiding principle is it has to look good on all types of people. If she runs in to too many limitations she tries something new. Even I want to tear up my own gags and jokes half a dozen times before I take them up on stage." She looks down the notebook crinkling in her hand. "But I force myself to go up their and do it. Because I'm going to be pulled to do it anyway. If I don't take the risk, if I don't try to grow as a performer than I'm just hurting myself." The notebook crackles. "And if I'm gonna suffer either way so I might as well get something constructive out of it."

Maggie blinks.
She picks up the small notebook.
Travel size.
7X5in
100 sheets.
Surely it wouldn't take long to fill that.

She can do that much right⸮

Unless she is not a writer.
She wasn't a poet.
Why did she think she had anything important to say⸮
Anything that couldn't be said by someone else. More skilled. More competent.
Just...better.

She holds the burden over the shelf.

"Why?"
Luan cocks her head.
"Why do you think that?"
"That your an artist?"
Maggie nods.
"Because you look like you have this need to do something. That you need to get it out of you or its just going to drive you crazy. But I don't think you want a lot of eyes on you to do it. No one thinks that deeply about something and doesn't do something with it. You ether use it to create or you use it to destroy. Gotta go somewhere."

Celeste runs her hands over the canvas.
"Do you see it, prima?"
Maggie blinks. Squinting harder, her eyes watering and becoming blurry.
"It's a window." She caresses it again. "For the third eye."
She raises the chalk.
Black lines. Contrasts. Impurities.

A darkness in light which the light could not comprehend.

But each line impresses upon the void made the World take shape.
And slowly the chaos took form. As from each line came a million possibilities collapsing on the one. And anyone of them could have been the wrong one.
It was terrifying.
And constantly she thought surely now she'll stop. Surely now is enough. How do you know your not doing too much?

What gives you the right to burden them with the World only we know⸮?

"If your bored, Maggie, you can go and play." Celeste starts mixing more colors. "Its going to take a while. I can always show you the end result."
Maggie could.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
After all nothing was really holding her there.
Except every line to this incomplete World seem to create a new one.
Maggie couldn't figure out where it was going because she would get lost in where it would take her.
In the end it took all summer.

"You're not taking it?"

Celeste smiles, "No."

"But you spent all summer on it. It's amazing."

Celeste shrugs, "I'm not sure She was meant for me." She places her hand on the child's shoulder, "And I'm sure I didn't make her alone."

Maggie's eyes roam the picture hanging in her room.
And the signature at the bottom.
She raises her pen.
A blue line.
Like water.
Just let it flow. Sink. Or Swim.

The pain is still there.
The heat. The terror. The dread.
But the phantasmagoria are not her's alone.
Something to be shunned and kept in the dark.
But sunned and transformed.
If her blood was filled with scoria and gasoline then let it be fuel.

"Only those things are beautiful which are inspired by madness and written by reason."

She moves among the sparrows
And she walks across the sea
She moves among the flowers
And she moves something deep inside of me

"Hey Maggie!" Luan's ebullience knocks Maggie from her conceptualizing. Luan grins as she moves beside the girl on the bench. "So you decide to give it a shot."

Maggie frowns, "I'm still not sure I'm a writer." She runs her thumb along the cover. "But I guess I'll find out."

Celeste steps back making sure the portrait is secure.

"What's it called?" Maggie asks.

"Don't know." She says dismissively, "Tell you what, prima. It's yours now so you name it."

"No, I'm," Maggie sets her jaw, soundlessly clicking her tongue at the back of her throat. "I'm not ready for that."

"That's okay, Spooky." Luan assures her, "Just letting you know. If you ever want to. I would love to read it."

Maggie takes a deep breath, "I do have a title though."

Luan smiles.

Celeste waves goodbye.

"Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth."

…

"Yes. Thank you. Take care."

Luan hangs up the phone leaning on the seat in front of her. At least she was able to push back their appointment.

She didn't have to stay so long. She knew they had plans. She should have...

Then why didn't she⸮

She didn't suddenly lose the ability to follow a schedule. Comedy is all about timing and hers is impeccable.

That's why nobody ever died.

She lifts her head from the seat shaking her head. The brown tresses tickling her face.

She had given it up. She swore to herself there would be no regrets.

That the alternative was too much to bare.

Why though⸮

Sure there was tremendous guilt when she realized the true implications of her little fun. Yet there was something else, acherontic and consuming, even now thinking on it sends razors through her arms and acid in her guts.

But why though‽

She keeps going back to it with all its promises of pain and discomfort precisely because she doesn't know why it had such a profound effect on her.

It was just a moving truck.

Just?

Rarely are things ever just.

Almost never in-fact.

There was both the concrete meaning of the truck. And its implications. Both of which landed on two concepts.

Leaving. Loss.

She squeezes her phone. Her eyes resting on the yellow scrunchie still around her wrist.

Loss, huh? What exactly did she have to lose⸮

Everything she has can be carried with her.

Funny Business can be rebuilt. Comedy clubs are everywhere. And Franny's has locations nationwide.

So again what was she losing? It's not like she has really close frie―

She curls in on herself, her loose hair cradling her face, blocking out the harsh light but for streaks and stabs.

"Comedy has to be based on truth. You take the truth and you put a little curlicue at the end."

Luan stares out the window.

…

They climb back in the bodega van holding to-go boxes of pie.

It seems her hunch was correct, a girl resembling Lita had been there that week. Twice in fact.

An over dressed blonde had been in there twice as well.

And an overdressed fair-haired young man had been in there twice.

The overdressed part was definitely her.

Lupe smirks, "That was useful. We know now she's likely been her at least a week."

"Are you sure it was her?" Lori asks balancing her boxes. Why did they get so much?

"Yup. I've been here less than 24 hours and I've made $473 playing cards in the park. And a picture of this guy's wife." Flick. "She would do this. She has done this. She doesn't even live in Royal Woods but maintains three additional identities here."

Lori raises a brow, "Why?"

Lupe shrugs, "Io'no. One alias works for the rest of us." Two if we're counting travel.

"Elvira Ramiro?" Lucy questions.

"Yup. I just said I spent the day hustling people out of money. You think I'm gonna use my real name?" Eye roll. "Please don't race LJ's opinion to the bottom."

"My sister let's you do that?"

She snorts, "Why not? I listened when ol' Maverick said, 'Never play in a rigged game, unless you rig it yourself.' And I'm so good I don't have to cheat anyone." She says with supreme confidence.

"So that's why you're dressed like that?"

She conjured the image of Raquel Welch in her mind. Lupe really should find a hat one of these days.

She shrugged. "You never really know what will speak to you in life. You just see it one day and think, 'Of course'." Jack of Diamonds. " 'How could it be anything else'?" The card disappears. "And in many ways, that's Linkito's main problem. He has nothing that makes his spirit soar." She sucks in air through her teeth shaking his head. "Then again the whole reason we're here right now is because of Lita's predilections."

Bobby doesn't even try. "Alright...where to next?"

"The hotel on the edge of town."

Five of swords.

...

The discordant whistles cause Maggie to seize up.
'Dang it.'
Her finger hovers over the skip. She didn't get how this guy who could write such poignant and soul searing music would write a song so saccharine.

Luan groans, "Come on, Maggie." She holds up the bl*e-ray. "Just give it a shot. Please." Her brows furrow. "You can't be negative all the time. It'll..." She exhales through her nose, eyes downcast.

Maggie scowls, crossing her arms.
The notebook at her side. The pen clutched in her death grip.
Stupid non-existent pyrokenisis.

It's up in the morning and on the downs
Little white clouds like gambolling lambs
And I am breathless over you

Maggie clicked the pen while she had to listen to this artist she respected paint the most clichéd mawkish mindscape imaginable.

"Come on, Spooky!" Luan stretches her arms to the sun. "Put some Spring in your step."

"Why did I let you talk me in to this?"

"O come on now, Maggie. You know, Floral intents and purposes I am your best Bud."

"You have a high opinion of yourself."

"I don't be-Leaf you. We're just going to have to Degree to disagree." She turns to face her walking backwards. "But I know the truth."

Maggie knows she shouldn't engage but..."And what is that?"

"As much as you like to write off my paronomasia Cunnilingus-tics, I know you love it when I talk Wordy to you."

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

"I'm going home." The girl turns away back down the path.

"No, Maggie wahh!" She hears a crash.

Maggie turns with a scowl to the empty path. "Luan?" She moves to the edge of the path. She sees legs sticking half way out of a bush. "Coño." She hisses as she makes it down the steep hill. "Luan!" She digs through the brush grasping the older girls hand pulling her upright.

Luan shakes her head, bits of leaves and twigs, fall to the ground.

"What happened?"

"When I fall for someone I fall hard." Luan laughs.

Maggie shoves her.

"Ahh!" She cries out in pain.

"Oh shit." Maggie helps her back up. "Sorry I-I"

Luan grimaces a smile, "It's alright. That wasn't very funny of me." She gives her a apologetic look.

Maggie feels her nails in her palm, "Are you hurt?"

"Just a little sore. I slipped on a lose patch of soil. Could you help me up?"

Maggie forces her hand open, ignoring her head, she takes the other girl's hand pulling her to her feet. Luan groans as she takes a step on her left ankle, Maggie immediately reaches for her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just a slight sprain, although," She looks up the incline. "not sure I can get back up."

Maggie clenches one of her hands then moves the other around Luan's waist, "Then we'll go around."

Luan looks away, "Okay." She says softly, "I'll just lean on you for now." She drapes her arm over the younger girl's shoulder.

Maggie scowls, its too damn hot out here anyways, "One pun and I will drop you, Loud."

Luan nods.

Maggie gives her a side glance but she is just looking down at her feet. She must be more hurt than she thought. Maggie clenches her jaw and focus her own thoughts on the new path ahead.

That's all that matters.

Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew

Maggie clicks her pen. Nipping at her lips she looks around the mall.
But no one is paying her any mind.
She gets up moving to a less populated area.
Less being relative.
She decides to head to one of the higher floors.

She steps on the escalator.
Feeling even more self conscious as she is quick to notice everyone else seems to be talking to someone at their side.
While she stands alone.
She taps her nails on the rail.
Seconds like hours.

Maggie hops the conveyor.
Quickly she moves away from the crowd.
Arms wrapped around herself. Notebook like a talisman.
She moves around the hall to one of the defunct stores.
A vanity project of some poor dreamer.

The young girl takes a seat staring at the For Lease sign.
She checks her phone again.
She will come.
Maggie opens up her gallery.
She gives a small smile.

The wind circles among the trees
And it bangs about the new-made leaves
For it is breathless without you

"Pbt. Pbt." Luan blows the strands out of her hair.

"Sorry." Maggie says low as the breeze was a welcome respite from the heat.

"No problem."

Maggie sighs, "Go ahead. I know you want to."

"Its Hair-dly a problem. After all your Shave-ing me a lot of trouble pulling me out of the Brush and Braiding me out of this Mousse I made." She says quickly. Some of the tension leaving her body with a slight shudder. She tightens her grip.

Maggie blinks. "How do you even do that?" The girl sighs again looking to the swaying branches. "I haven't written a thing this week. And you just pull those out of the air."

"No I didn't." Luan corrects her. "A lot of work goes in to it. I've been reading and studying since I was a little kid. Hours and hours of practice to do this. That was one of the things I came out here to do. See how many puns I can make based on what I can see. Just imagine and dream." She takes a breath, "Just focus on the fun it gives me without having to preform."

Maggie turns her face to her. She seems sightly ashamed by the admission.

"Don't get me wrong I absolutely love preforming its just," She screws her face to the side in concentration, "Sometimes I worry I'm getting lost in the character."

Maggie turns away, "Makes sense to me. If your always preforming when does it stop? When do you get to just be? The body is made up of how much water and yet we can still drown⸮"

Luan hums, "That's true." She gives a small smile. "But Water you gonna Dew about it?"

Maggie gives one too. "I should have left you in the shrub."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda." They slip in to a companionable silence as they circle the ridge.

Well to most it would be.

Maggie focuses on her breathing. Why the hell is it so warm⸮ It snowed like 2 weeks ago.

When Maggie came back to herself she realized she had no idea where they were.

I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you

Maggie moves from pictures to her video files.
There is not many.
As little as she likes pictures of herself.
Video is worse.
It sees so much more.

Complacence.
People don't realize how much of themselves they can show.
Even if you don't notice it in the moment.
The camera sees everything.
As long as the footage is there you can be decoded.

Twitches.
Little movements that just happen, right⸮
Eyebrows. Lids. Nose. Mouth. Jaw.
Do. Re. Mi. Fa. Sol. La. Tsi.
It's the combinations that gives it presence. Meaning. Effect.

The video cuts in abrupt shaking as the audio is tested by Luan's appreciation.

"This place is amazing! Did you know this was here‽ Is this where you were leading us‽" An open mouth smile, Maggie can still feel the breath on her as the camera is stuck in her face.

"Yeah. That's why I'm so pale. Too much time in the great outdoors." Maggie pulls the camera out of her face.

She shakes her head and moves to the next video.

"Why do I have to do this?" She blusters tokenly. She did in fact want to document this space. For entirely clichéd reasons.

Because this is nothing like Michigan. Like Royal Woods. Like the mundane, dreary and exhausting sight of her everyday.

She forgot the World could be this beautiful.

"I know, right?"

The World distorts and reforms with her at the center.

She lies cradled in repose against the mighty pine. Her tawny hair free in the breeze, the new buds almost as entranced by it as Maggie is, as they paw at her sun kissed stems. A lazy smile, flushed cheeks and hooded dark eyes pulling her.

Pink lips part. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

The video stops.

It isn't until the screen goes black that Maggie blinks.

And everything is illuminated.

Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true

'No. No. No. No. No. No. No.'

She rises and runs not caring.
Much too exposed as is.
She pushes in to the door running for the furthest stall kicking it open.
Latch.

Enclosed like a coffin but there is no refuge.
How can you run from yourself⸮
Wherever you go, there you are.
She screws her eyes up holding her eyes shut trying to take every bit of sight from her eyes.

But Her eyes are Eigenlicht.

Intrinsic. Inescapable. Ineffaceable.
And all those little moments that mean so much more now.
Shinning with a vibrancy and brightness that is overwhelming.
How could she have had such little knowledge of herself⸮

What do you do when you realize you don't know who you are⸮
Don't even know what you even truly want⸮
So where do you go from here⸮
Clock's tickin'.

"Coño."

And I am breathless without you

…

"Bork, bork, bork." Leman mutters as he checks the tenderness of the roast. He really should have started earlier. He slides the pan back into the oven before looking over to the pressure cooker. It was a lot of beef and not a terrible lot of time to cook it all.

Still, though, shoulda been venison.

It woulda been venison if the time had been right. If he wasn't so...constrained.

Leman could have taken one and butchered it with just his seax. Had done afore. Though the cuts would not have been as detailed as he would have liked. Disrespectful, really.

And again time.

The kill wouldn't last long out of season. Never waste good fresh meat. And even with their metabolic needs he and Lítilvölva couldn't eat a whole buck alone. Not one worth eating anyways. Furthermore, resting the carcass for a few days to tender the meat would have been optimal. Not for them, obviously, but for the rest of the family.

Especially considering Aunt Lola's palette.

Leman spins the knife within his fingers. He had gone over the different cuts and ways he could have made it palatable. And by that time a sounder had wandered through the holt much too close to Mímameiðr.

5 minutes latter they had one on the spit.

Provide-nce.

Leman begins flipping the knife into the air as he eyes the clock. Still have plenty of meat. They really shouldn't go to the store hungry.

Leni's coming. He glanced at his discarded insignia draped on the chair. Sod it.

"Wow Leman that smells so good."

"Just something I threw together. Honestly, I give them two hours before they accomplish their individual missions and they come home." He taps his fingers on the handle. "Lace is the only one with a snowballs chance of finding her. If that was actually what she is suppose to be doing."

Leni raises her eyebrow.

"Lincoln!" Lily reaches for him.

"No Lily, that's you're nephew Leman. He's Lincoln and Lynn's son." She places her finger to the baby's lips." Oh but that's a secret you can't tell anyone." The baby nods.

Leman chuckles. "Never doubted you for a second Auntie." He runs a hand through his hair. "When did you figure it out?"

Leni frowns, "It should have been obvious the first time she smiled." Her lips move slightly upwards, "I didn't remember until she yelled at us."

Leman raises his brow, "Remember?"

"Uh-huh." Leni nods. "I was the one who named her."

…

"Pull over." LJ sits up.

"Huh?" Rita questions but complies.

Sr., Lynn and Ronnie Anne look around. "What? Did you see Lisa or Lita?"

"No. They're nowhere near here." LJ dismisses. "If you really intend to stay...mom..."

Eyebrow. "Ye-ah?"

"So how exactly do you intend to do that?"

"We could uh help with that." Sr. chimes in, "I mean we are going to have to speak with Maria to hash out the details."

"Especially because we don't really know how long this is going to last." Rita reminds them.

"May..." Lynn starts, "tch. Maybe we should tell her." She looks down, "Then again what are the odds she'll actually believe it." She looks her in the eyes, "Would you have if we called you and told ya?"

Ronnie Anne shifts from side to side, "Hmmm. I probably would have spent a day arguing with myself then have Bobby bring me." She leans back, "Because I want it to be true. How many times do I have to tell you that, niño‽" She yells in to the backseat.

LJ rolls his eyes.

Ronnie Anne turns back to Lynn, "So you saved me a lot of time coming after me."

Lynn smirks and shrugs, "What can I say⸮ You're fun to have around."

LJ manges not to cringe. "So how much of the truth do you tell?"

Ronnie Anne is silent.

"Let me think on it."

...

Despair and Deception, Love's ugly little twins
Came a-knocking on my door, I let them in
Darling, you're the punishment for all my former sins

Maggie buries her face in her knees.
No closer to answers than she was when she ran in.
No words of wisdom.
No words of comfort.

Because she couldn't stop asking the same question.
Different variations of how she could let this happen knowing how useless it was.
Over and over again.
The door rattles and she flinches.

I let love in

"Hey Maggie!"

The girl flinches dropping the pen.

This was the first time Luan had come over to her house since they had began associating.

She had intended to meet her at the door but she was...she was not nervous okay!...She uh just was trying to get some writing done.

"What are you writing?"

Not that she wants her to know about it.

"n-Nothing just uh waiting for you to get here." She quickly closes the book moving to her desk.

Luan looks around the room eyes quickly falling on the painting. "Huh. Yeah that's kinda what I was expecting."

Maggie takes a deep breath. We're not going there.

"What's it cal–"

"Hey so do you wanna watch this movie or what?"

Her smile gets impossible wide...or least that's how she remembers it. "A movie about April Fool's⸮ My favorite holiday⸮ Why I–"

"Another rhetorical this time ending with a pun. Yeah, hilarious. Just get on the bed."

Luan places a hand on her chest. "Well aren't you in a hurry." Smirk. "And here I was hoping you'd be able to go all night."

"Big talk for your first time." Grin. "Heck you're already trembling. I bet I'll have you screaming your head off inside of five minutes."

She crosses her arms, turning her head away, with a huff. "Oh pleeze give me some credit I am older than you."

"Yeah well age is nothing to experience. You just remember that when your clingy to me and calling for Mommy."

Cue the door opening.

Luan jumps back as Maggie's mom pushes through. When did they get so close to each other⸮

The mother looks between the two of them then down to the laptop in Maggie's hand. "I thought you would like some snacks."

As her mom and Luan made small talk and terrible puns. Maggie got to work setting up the movie.

She had been looking forward to this.

Not the movie, she'd seen it before. Of the two slashers she knew of with that holiday theme, one was a little more than your standard tits and blood schlock.

Little bit. Just a little bit.

To be perfectly honest the girl had run it over in her mind a lot. Too much in fact. From every angle she could think of. And three days later, after almost canceling it five times, she decided to go with the decent one.

To start off with.

Horror films that truly inspire terror are few and far between. Mostly its just as close as Maggie comes to comedy...and therapy...

Oh yeah and her hunch was correct.

Kooky was all jokes and criticisms during the japes but at the first sight of blood she went quiet. Her jaw going kind of slack as she tried to hold her smile as she realizes it was a fake out scare. And like that it went as the tension ramps up.

By the well scene...well...

"sh-Shut up, this proves nothiNNG!" She buries her head in Maggie's arm.

Maggie laughs.

She didn't watch another frame of the movie. Just the various inflections of emotions changing on her friend's face. She didn't even know that the movie hit the twist until Luan started laughing hysterically.

She's use to more bitching at that part from the viewers but Luan loved it. Immediately going on about how brilliant it was played off and how she should show her her own prank videos sometimes. Maggie didn't know how to tell her that she personally hated pranks instead she just pointed back at the screen.

Razor.

She leaps right in to the emo's lap.

"Everything is funny, as long as it's happening to somebody else."

The door it opened just a crack, but Love was shrewd and bold
My life flashed before my eyes, it was a horror to behold
A life-sentence sweeping confetti from the floor of a concrete hole

Maggie is taken out of her thoughts by a loud whistling and footsteps.
The faucet gushes.
Maggie waits for them to leave feeling too exposed.
The water stops.

"Don't feel too self-conscious. I was just recently having a good cry myself. Having just learned a horrible hideous fact. Birds, now get this, birds do not sing because they are happy. The next time you hear a thrush singing don't go all romantic because what the thrush is doing is warning all the other birds to stay the heck off his branch and keep out of his nest." Towel rip. "This news has depressed me terribly."

Maggie scowls.
Is she talking to her⸮
Or is there someone else here⸮
Fucking creep.

"Of course I'm talking to you, dear. We are the only ones here. Instinct, I suppose, as the adage is, 'laugh and the World laughs with you; weep and you weep alone'. Yet is that really the Worlds fault or our own? Wilcox turned the phrase yet also wrote, 'the smile that is worth the praises of earth, is the smile that shines through tears'. Though she may not be a very celebrated poet but certainly one to truly express the American sentiment of optimism."

What the fuck is this bitch going on about⸮
Why won't she just leave her alone⸮
Some wannabe Samaritan⸮
Just ignore her she'll get tired soon enough.

"I'm afraid I am not all that much of an optimist in truth. I take too much after my mother in that aspect." Amused hum. "Yet if I do believe in one thing it is my own ability to endure suffering. As my cousin insists, it is the least amount of good we can do for the World."

The World is a vampire.
A bloodthirsty savage thing if the least we can do is willingly suffer for it.
For what does all this pain truly amount to when its all payed for⸮
What is earned and what is gained⸮

"It does make life sound rather like a carnival game. It is quite the open ended maxim but that is by design as it allows one to find their own meaning. The Truth as it were. If there is one thing I have always admired my cousin for it is her commitment to discovering Truth." She hears her change stances. "Now Truth, as nebulous a concept it is, that is a reason to suffer for. To engage in the World and all its flawed denizens. For each one, good or ill, brings something out of us that alone might never shine the light on. And to die without knowing who you truly are, that would be tragic."

I let love in

Celeste lays curled against the wall, paint smeared on her face, tears drying as she stares at the lines incoherent on the canvas.

Maggie stands stock still, hand grasping the brass handle, taking in the sight. Not sure what to do. Should she run for her mom? Should she go to her? So she just stands there watching her cousin fall apart. What does she do?

What does she do?

What can she do⸮

What makes her think she can do anything⸮ Arrogant little brat. You think clicking your nails or tongue is really going to do anything⸮ Bad comedy. Go check the lock or faucet or something.

You're no good to anyone here.

"It hurts so much sometimes." Her voice like glass shatters the stillness. "It should though. I am ripping out pieces of myself. Because I feel like it would kill me if I didn't" Celeste remains staring at the canvas. "Maybe one day I will give it everything. Maybe I will have to. Some little thing, the best part, of this creature called Celeste Mejía, that will stay after she's long gone."

She lifts the worn downed nub of chalk in her stained fingers.

"Proof that she lived. For better or worse. She gave the World something for what she took." She drops her hand. "Whatever it is worth. To whoever it is worth."

"Does the World deserve it?"

A noise akin to perhaps a mockery of a laugh. "Whether it does or doesn't it will have it all the same." Finally now she looks at her. Bearing everything. "This life...will have meaning."

If she wasn't lying then why did she burn her paintings after she rage quit life?⸮‽

Well I've been bound and gagged and I've been terrorized
And I've been castrated and I've been lobotomized
But never has my tormentor come in such a cunning disguise

The petrol in Maggie's blood boiled in all its corruption.
How dare she⸮ This woman knows nothing of her!
What right does she have to come in and try to speak to her⸮
How presumptuous. A little understanding, a parcel of wisdom, and thinks it entitles her to burden others.

What right does she have to reach so far⸮

Maggie gnashes her teeth as words froth forth.
Bile, black and staining, the color of her soul and thoughts.
Bleak, brittle, injurious, inimical.
Fuck her and everyone who looks like her! Pretentious meddlesome cunt!

Some people are lost causes.

Some people should be left to weep alone.

BANG!
The stillness shatters.
A miserable pile of secrets, unrealistic desires and unfettered sorrows in the shambling approximation of a girl emerges from her hiding.
The gloom clinging with her no matter where she steps.

And the woman in her rose colored glasses smiles.
A burgundy three piece, window paned in yellow. Marks of cowardice.
The haloed figure of a saint pined to lapel in mocking repose.
Maggie wants to choke the arrogant peacock with her her own paisley cravat.

"Maybe if you took your blinders off you will see how the World really is."

She runs her finger along her side plates.
Tracing the pattée.
Still the smile.
Shining like the blood jewel in her ring. Sharp set.

"Are you not sitting behind glass yourself? Staring out in judgment wile your sorrows pile around you."

"Stop talking like you know me! What kind of fucking pervert lurks in a bathroom for crying little girls?"

She snorts as if to say, 'Little?'Or at the very least that's how Maggie took it. She snarls ready to rip in to her.

"I'm only 15, hardly old enough to be considered a cad. If only because the word's gender locked." She says with some annoyance.

Which provides enough of a distraction to halt Maggie's murderous intent. She looks the girl over again.

"What can I say⸮ Good genes."

"Well the suits doing you know favors." An attempt at recapturing fury but only sliding as far as petulance.

She gives a smirk as if to say, 'I call bullshit but alright'. "I'm choosing not to take offense to that." She straightens the cravat knot. "Considering I didn't even know Emos were still a thing. What year is it again⸮ I thought you lot merged with hipsters years ago."

"Fuck this I'm out of here."

"May want to fix your mascara, luv. Or what is the point of hiding all away⸮"

Maggie weighs her options and stomps to the mirror. The door looms

"Here use mine." She flicks her wrist. "Its water resistant."

I let love in

Maggie taps the ballpoit to the page.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Each a punctuation to the white noise around her. A moment of reprieve to the World she knows pressing itself on her. But nothing springs forth from the drops of ink.

And the World pulls her back.

"What do you think Maggie?"

She shrugs. No real idea what was said. "Undecided."

Vivian narrows her eyes. Maggie hazards a look to Selene who has a similar gaze.

Annoyance. Frustration. Confusion.

Something crosses over the blonde's face. "Really? I figured you'd have a opinion considering how much time you been spending with her."

Maggie goes stock still.

Like a corpse.

The wickedness touches Selene's features. "Yeah. We haven't seen you around too much lately. I guess the clown had some babies to entertain today."

Maggie's eyes become slits. The pen straining in her white knuckles.

Her friends share an amused glance.

"If I remember correctly you were just as impressed with her performance as I was at my party."

Selene blows her bangs out of her eyes. "Yeah she is much easier to be around when she doesn't talk."

"Seriously, Maggie how can you stand being around those lame jokes." A grin without a cat. "I'd ask if she puts that mouth to other uses but between the teeth and the metal." She shudders animatedly.

Selene snickers, "It was really surprising to hear you were so down to clown, Maggie."

Vivian snorts, "More like going down on–"

SLAM!

Anger.
That is the emotion.
How dare they be judgmental⸮
Aren't they outcasts too⸮

Aren't we all fucking outcasts⸮

They look scared now.
Good.
They change to platitudes and placations.
Fuck'em.

"Oh come on Maggie we're just joking." Selene back peddles.

"We're you now?" Lvl. 6.

Vivian looks down but trying to remain defiant. "Yeah." Token lowering of her voice. "Thought you grew a sense of humor. Must be different when your clown does it."

"Come on, Maggie, it is kind of weird. She's so..." Selene shakes not knocking loose any words.

Words. Words. Words. Words. Words. Words. Words.

That's what it comes down to.
Traps. Limits. Definitions.
Stay were you are. How your perceived. It's all you are and all you'll ever be.
The first glance and cliff notes version of a person.

Because fuck character development, right⸮

Maggie scoffs. Gathering her materials.

Selene tries to stop her. Vivian slumps still scowling. "Just let her go."

Maggie turns her back on them.

And doesn't look back.

Though with each step the fire wanes.

With each foot her energy bleeds away.

As the distance grows the cold is all that remains.

Maggie slumps against the wall. Slumped in a corner. Dark streaks down her cheek.

The pen shaking in her hand.

"La dracu."

O Lord, tell me what I done
Please don't leave me here on my own
Where are my friends?
My friends are gone

Water drips from Maggie's pale face.
Clear of her dark stains of unrestrained emotion.
Only the redness of her eyes still mark her shame.
She takes the offered towel.

"Why do you even have that with goggles on?"

"These are not goggles. They're tea shades with dust protection."

"Crossing the desert are you?" She tosses the refuse in the bin before picking up the tube from the sink.

"Well a barren wasteland either way." She waves her hand to all before them. "Okay, honestly, I have a slight eye condition that its just easier to wear the glasses. That and it pulls everything together." She gestures down. "I may not take to the easel as my little sister but color theory was not a complete loss to me."

Maggie pops the lid as her body tenses.
No.
What are the odds⸮
A trick of some kind.

Right⸮

"Your sister is a painter?"

The girl hums. "It is her passion. However she is so reluctant to share it. For various reasons." She sighs wistfully, "Some philosophical like the commodification of art by the professional artist. And then there is the personal." Her voice takes on a sad edge, "It opens her up to be scrutinized. Analyzed. Studied. She would be required to turn herself in to an artistic statement." The girl shakes her head and gives a small smile. "She is only 13 so she has yet to find it in herself to to move the World."

Maggie feels the walls closing in on her.
The air grows heavy.
And the brush shakes in her hand.
The girl gives an amused huff.

"But it is inevitable. It is in her nature."

Is it truly⸮ Inevitable⸮
An unwinable contest⸮
This compulsion⸮
Can there be no strength of will to resist such an addiction⸮

"And she shouldn't!" This knocks the Emo out of her spiral. The girl smiles brightly, "What she has is powerful. It makes her her. To take what is inside of her and bring it out. To affect the World. Lives she will never meet." She shakes her head as if embarrassed by her show of passion. "If only a little. If just for a moment, a second, even that is," She searches the air for a moment before the smile returns to her face. Toothy. "Magick."

Maggie searches for a response.
But what can she give⸮
Then again maybe she doesn't need too.
Maybe she just needs to listen.

"Of course my own drive for Truth would lead me to believe that." She chuckles. "So many things hidden from sight. Undiscovered. Just waiting to be found if your dedicated enough. A World of shadows. And while it may at times be unpleasant and hard to come to terms with." She runs her thumb along her lapel. "And I may still just be a child, but from what I've seen, very few things in life worth having aren't a struggle."

"And what about failure?"

She smiles, "We're you born running?"

The girl stands straight. "I've failed. I've been wrong. Caused harm to myself and others." She shrugs, "And in those moments…I've learn more about myself. Past that."

She points to the mirror.
Both girls take in the sight of what the World sees.
A moody teenager.
And a bloody peacock.

"And I know that I am closer to the Truth. Of who I really am becoming. And the shadows are a little clearer. So I don't trip on the same stone."

Maggie can feel her staring her in the eyes through the glass.

"If we refuse to make mistakes, to acknowledge our own failings, then there is no Truth in us. And false hearted people have caused enough damage to this World."

False hearts have been the downfall of many. Had laid her hero low.
But that implies a level of trust, frankly, Maggie doubted was in herself.
If no person has ever truly understood their own best interest nor acted in it, how can you trust someone to act in yours⸮
No matter how true your intentions and hopes for the best are there is still the dilemma of the quills.

Then again what is life but constantly kicking against the pricks⸮

Hmm, pun in there somewhere.

Maggie huffs, "You don't talk like your fifteen."

"A byproduct of being over educated." Conceding shrug. "Plus in my family you don't last long with out wit. If you can't keep up in the conversation you're going to have a long day indeed." She smirks.

"Sounds tiring." Maggie's eyes droop.

"It is quite fun though. Or I just don't know how to be any other way." She chuckles, "You should see our family get-togethers."

"Not if I can help it."

The girl laughs again.

Maggie gets to the matter at hand.
Hiding the trace of her breakdown.
Putting her Persona back in to place.
Everything back in black and white.

Work done she holds the tube back to its owner.

"No go ahead and keep it. Just think of it as thanks for letting me bore you with my own troubled thoughts."

"Gee thanks for the used goods."

The girl chuckles.
Something about it is much less infuriating.
Just a touch.
Still though this has gone on long enough.

Time to send the meddlesome girl on her way. There is work to be done.

"Wouldn't happen to have eyeliner up that sleeve?"

...sseug I ton 'nikcuf rO

She gives her a smile somewhere between indulgent and sympathetic. "Not in your shade dear." It takes on a sharper edge. "But maybe, right now at least, you need your eyes clear and unobscured."

"Okay now your just reaching."

"Of course. It's not like you would tell a complete stranger your troubles. You specifically as I did just that." She shrugs. "However it usually comes down to perspective with people. The trick is not just to see what is in front of you but also see from the sides. Although it certainly takes effort. I suggest instead of just looking at how everything can go wrong instead see the desired outcome and the conditions you would need to implement to reach it. After that you can rain fire down upon your best laid plans but at least then you're more proactive. And just might surprise yourself as to how resourceful you are. Or at the very least stubborn as all Hell." Her accent slips. "To use the vernacular." And its back.

"And why exactly do you care? I don't know you."

"My name is Simone Templar."

Another weird chime.

"Terribly sorry that's my mobile." She checks it a sight smirk on her lips. "And as for why I care well." Full teeth. "Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco."

"Latin." Maggie scowls. "Really?"

She laughs again and Maggie can't help but smile.

"It's a bit of a motto in my family. Or to put it as my Aunt would, 'Those who have suffered understand suffering and therefore extend their hand'. Some traditions are worth fostering."

Fair enough, Maggie thinks.

"And as lovely as it is to talk with you I am afraid I really must dash. I do hope to see you again under better conditions."

Maggie nods, "t-Thanks. For..." She trails off.

For the first time Maggie feels like she sees the real girl in her smile. "Anytime. Mate-r." And then its gone.

"Maggie."

Simone's brow peak over the edge.

"My name is Maggie."

"Maggie." She nods slightly. "Be seeing you." She give the OK salute over the eye then walks through the door.

Again Maggie is left with her thoughts.

Though they have seemed to grow in the girl's wake. Although it really just boils down to one question. That first step in the journey.

What is it Maggie truly wants⸮

So if you're sitting all alone and hear a-knocking at your door
And the air of promises, well buddy, you've been warned
Far worse to be Love's lover than the lover that Love has scorned

The Birthday party.

Ask Maggie how it went when she turned twelve or ten and she couldn't tell you but last year was still vivid in her mind.

Because boy did it suuuuuuuck.

Naturally Maggie had been against the very thing from the start. And had argued the point as eloquently as her age and general temperament towards life and people would allow.

Forget her face getting stuck like that, one of these days she's gonna Scanner the shit out of somebody.

She looks out on the blue clear sky thinking, wiling, pleading, somebody, anybody, release the bats already!

No such luck. Nothin' but blue skies does she see.

She can feel her essence exsanguinating from her body leaving her a cold listless husk.

Like being stuffed in a grinder, man.

I mean…not really...but sure as Hell feels like it.

All those eyes and lives pressing in on her as she lingers in the June sun that can't penetrate the feeling of gloom hanging in the air.

Well get a brood of Emos together what do you expect⸮

And least her mom didn't invite the boys next door.

No, thankfully she can at least stand the people milling around her backyard.

She shouldn't say that. They're her friends. Aren't they⸮

Her eyes sweep over the crowd. Her well wishers. The people that decided to celebrate her becoming technically a teen.

There superficial associations based on tentative inclinations towards the same merchandising.

Fold with the slightest bit of pressure.

Her eyes continue there travel to the parents congregating stumbling and trying to latch on to any shred of that commonality like drift wood.

So it never changes huh⸮

She casts her eyes down at her own form. Lucky number 13. In some cultures she would be considered an adult. Not that she feels any different. The crimson tide having long become routine by now.

So what is there to celebrate really⸮

The prat locks eyes with her.

Nope. No Ironside yet. Not even a door to slam.

And she was actually looking forward to the cake.

Just as well...

He must of sensed the impending doom as he ran with a coherent excuses. There was some...amusement to be taken from that by her guests. Maggie had just wanted the farce to be over.

The picking at her brain. The whispers. The visions.

What if you… What if they… What if this… What if… What if… What if… What if the sky turns to fire and the World burns‽⸮

Then at least Justice would be done.

Keep your arms crossed someone will notice if you do it now.

Her nails dig in to her arm.

The music starts up again. How much time ha-whatever...doesn't matter.

Who cares⸮ It's just another day. The sun goes up the sun goes down and the World turns in its indifference. Today is like Yesterday and Tomorrow just one day closer to death-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

And all thought stopped.

Her jaw goes slack at the girl standing above her.

Golden brown, texture like sun. Big dark eyes shining like the diamonds they are painted up as.

She looks like a doll. From a Charles Band movie. And she's here to slay them.

Knock 'em dead.

She walks nonchalant without a care in the World until something stands in her way. Some invisible force presses in on her. And she can't fight what she can't see. Real or not it crushes. Her face showing everything.

No need for words.

Maggie understood all the same.

And she responds saying something. Acceptable for the crowd pressed in on her. For the Persona she has constructed to protect herself.

Not what she really felt but...huh...she felt…she was moved out from her indifference.

Her own tentative endorsement seems to turn the crowd in the mime's favor. As they begin their own murmuring. Maggie doesn't really hear it just nodding where appropriate.

And then the prat returns. So different than the mime. Just like Maggie is and yet…

Maybe there is something similar there. Some commonality that goes beyond the surface and trappings of images and words. Universal.

Something...Human...as fuckin' lame as that is.

"Wow. It's about how we're all just, like, clones."

"That's what I was going to say." Maggie turns to see the boy standing next to her. She had forgotten he was there. All of them really.

The pressure didn't seem as great.

After all, they were seldom different than herself.
Lost. Clutching for. Clinging to any bit of truthfulness they can reach.
Anything that seems Real in a World that persists in being contrary to how it should be. How it could be if peopl-...
...right, wrong or indifferent their troubles are there own and this is how they have found a way to deal with it.

That doesn't make them special.
Nobody is special.
Nothing under the sun is new.
Not anymore.

The Future has been canceled.

"Exactly."

Maggie reached for something the rodent tailed one gave her. Throwing it on to the stage as she stood from her bow.

As the mime lifts the rose to her nose Maggie is struck by one thought.

Maybe 13 is her lucky number after all.

But she shook it away.

Pointless.

I let love in

So I guess this a two-parter now. Oh well. But I got it out before Bloomsday. Thematically fitting as a fair bit of this was written directly after 7-III.

I also learned Fred Willard died after I posted the last chapter. That sucks. I had hopped we might see a reunion with Martin Mull on the show. Ah well.

Dennis O'Neil died this week too.

Hmm...hmm...