Buffalo Plaid Microfiber sheet set - black/white - Mega Vente

The alarm blared through the messy bedroom. A loud groan came from the tangle of sheets and blankets on the bed. A tall, thin teen rolled out of bed and walked to her dresser and slapped her alarm clock. She stretched and yawned, picking out her outfit for the day. She picked out a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans, a black tank top, and a black hoodie. She grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower, lathering her pale blue hair with her coconut shampoo and rinsing it out. After she finished washing herself, she stepped out of the shower and dried off, wrapping a towel around her hair and body and walked back to her room to get dressed. As she was straightening her hair, the window behind her slid open, and a tall, olive-skinned girl with long, curly black hair climbed in.
“You know, Lila,” she laughed, “this room is a mess. Maybe you should clean it, maybe even do some laundry.”
“Ugh, you sound like my mother, Ranae,” Lila complained. “My room is fine.”
Ranae laughed, flopping down on Lila’s queen-sized bed, curling up in a fuzzy black blanket. She was wearing a black leather jacket paired with black leggings, a black t-shirt, and black combat boots. She had a spiked choker on and leather biker gloves. She had a silver tongue piercing, silver snake bites, and three ear piercings. She had a subtle eyeshadow on, as well as a glittery lip gloss and a bit of blush.
“You do realize you could use the front door, right?” Lila asked. “I did give you a key.”
Ranae laughed, the sound like bells in the filthy bedroom.
“I know, it’s just more fun coming through the window!”
Lila snorted and shook her hair out as she put the straightener away and started on her makeup. She swiped on some eyeshadow and eyeliner across her eyelids, creating a beautiful cat eye. She swiped black lipstick across her lips and stepped back to admire herself in the mirror. She decided to slip on a black t-shirt with “Pierce the Veil” written across the front in blood red letters. She smiled and nodded, having found the perfect outfit for today.
“Are you done, now?” Ranae asked.
“Almost!” Lila laughed as she pulled on her black converse high tops and swung her black backpack over her shoulder. She threw open the bedroom door and walked out into the hallway, Ranae following close behind. The sweet aroma of cinnamon waffles filled the air as the two girls walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Morning, mom!” Lila exclaimed.
“Good morning, girls! I have breakfast ready for both of you. I figured you’d be here,” Lila’s mom said to Ranae.
Ranae laughed, “Thanks, Marie! I didn’t have time to grab anything at home.”
Marie set two plates of waffles down in front of Lila and Ranae, and soon, their plates were empty. Lila looked up at the clock, which read 7:30. She stood up and took her plate to the sink, Ranae doing the same.
“I’ll see you later, mom! I might be going out to lunch or dinner with Ranae, but we haven’t decided yet.”
“Alright, stay safe!” Marie told Lila as they hugged goodbye.
Lila and Ranae walked out the door, locking it behind them. The air was very warm for early March. It was about 75°F and it was very sunny. Lila saw that Ranae had taken her bike today. Ranae tossed Lila a helmet after she got her helmet on. She climbed on the Harley, starting the motor.
“Hop on!” she called over the engine.
Lila jogged over, climbing on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around Ranae’s waist. Ranae kicked off and soon the two girls arrived in the school parking lot. As Ranae parked the bike, Lila hopped off and pulled her helmet off, shaking out her hair and smoothing it down. Lila looked up at Ranae who was smiling.
“I love being taller than you,” Ranae laughed.
Lila mock pouted, making Ranae laugh even harder as they walked towards the school building. As they neared the doors, Lila groaned as she saw their principal standing by the entrance. Ranae glared at him; his lip curled as the two girls walked past them holding hands. They walked to Lila’s locker, and she opened her locker and tossed her black lunchbox inside. She slammed the locker door shut and turned to face Ranae.
“Guess you should head to class, short stuff,” Ranae murmured. “See you at lunch.”
Lila pulled Ranae in for a quick kiss before she walked to her homeroom. Lila sighed and flopped down at a desk in the back of the room, pulling out her earbuds and phone, putting her playlist on shuffle and putting her earbuds in her ears. Through all her classes, Lila listened to music and drew in her sketchbook, completely ignoring her teachers. She shuffled through the hallways between classes, counting the minutes until lunch. Towards the end of 4th period, her stomach let out a huge growl. She ignored it, but was happy that it was almost lunch. When the bell for lunch rang, Lila hurried to her locker to grab her lunch. She grabbed her lunchbox and slammed the locker door shut and walked to the cafeteria. As she rounded the corner, she ran right into someone. She heard a loud screech as her and the other girl toppled to the floor. Makeup products spilled out of the other girl’s white Gucci bag.
“What the hell, freak?” she yelled. “Get off of me!”
She shoved Lila onto the floor and retrieved her makeup. Lila ignored the girl and scrambled back to her feet, walking to the cafeteria. She saw Ranae waving to her from their usual table, her face red from laughter. Lila walked over and sat next to Ranae and listened to the latest of Jessie and Sabrina’s arguments.
“No,” Jessie said, flipping his shoulder length black hair out of his eyes, “pineapples do not belong on pizza! That’s the worst sin you could ever commit!”
“Pineapple pizza is delicious!” Sabrina argued, her ginger hair falling out of its bun and covering her green eyes and freckled nose.
“Guys, guys,” Ranae interrupted. “You guys know that anchovies are the King of all pizza toppings!”
The entire table groaned, and Jessie threw an empty milk carton at Ranae, bouncing it off her forehead. Ranae glared at him and lobbed her sandwich at him, missing and hitting the girl at the table behind him. She screeched and whirled around, glaring at Ranae, who was laughing so hard she fell out of her chair. Jessie turned around and apologized, but he was drowned out by the laughter of his other three friends. For the remainder of lunch, the friends discussed weekend plans, pizza toppings, and teachers everyone hated. When the bell rang, the four students stood up to leave. Sabrina gave up the bun and pulled it out, letting her long, dark red hair fall down her back. She was wearing a cute black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and showed just a little bit of cleavage. She wore a black hoodie and black converse high tops.
Jessie was wearing black skinny jeans with chains attached to a belt loop. He had on a black t-shirt that said, “The voices were right about you” in pastel bubble letters. He was wearing a gray beanie, and his black and red plaid backpack was covered in various buttons. His pale skin was covered in various drawings and scribbles and his eyes were an odd shade of violet. He wore different color contacts every day.
“See you later, guys!” Ranae and Lila waved.
Ranae and Lila walked down the gray hallway towards art class, the one class the two girls shared. They walked in the brightly lit room, sitting at a table in the back of the classroom. Lila pulled out her sketchbook and put in her earbuds, flipping to a half finished drawing of a dragon perched on a castle turret. It was extremely detailed, and Ranae let out an impressed whistle. Other students trickled in slowly, and soon, all the seats were filled. As the bell rang, the teacher stood up and shut the door, then walked back to her desk.
“Good afternoon, everyone!” she exclaimed. “Today you will work on your drawings that you started yesterday. You have the remainder of this class and this weekend to finish, so these will be due at the end of class Monday. Remember, you may talk while you work, but keep the volume low.”
When the teacher finished talking, the students started talking to their friends, most of them not doing any work; the teacher didn’t seem to notice or care. Ranae kicked her feet up on the desk and started playing games on her phone. Halfway through class, the fire alarm screamed through the building.
“Well,” Ranae shouted over the alarm, “why don’t we get out a little early?”
Lila packed up her things and grasped Ranae’s hand and smiled as they followed the other classes out the main entrance and into the parking lot. While the other students lined up, Lila and Ranae kept walking until they got to the spot where Ranae had parked. Ignoring the protests of teachers, they put on their helmets and Ranae started the bike.
“Where to?” Ranae shouted.
Lila hopped onto the bike, “Why not home, first? I need to grab my wallet.”
“No,” Ranae laughed, “I’m paying! Where to?"
Lila laughed, “Ok, then. KFC sound good?
Ranae nodded and pulled out of the parking lot, ignoring the teachers yelling behind them. The wind whipped around Lila’s hoodie, nearly blowing it off as the KFC came into view. The girls roared into the parking lot, parking the bike then heading inside. They ordered two Five-dollar Fill-ups then sat down to eat. They laughed and made idle conversation for a few hours, until Lila’s phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, which read “Mom”.
“Hold on, Ranae,” she sighed, “it’s mom. Hello?”
“Where are you?” Marie asked, sounding annoyed.
“I’m at KFC. Is something wrong, mom?”
Her mom sighed, “Yeah, your principal called and told me you and Ranae left during a fire drill. I thought you said you’d stop skipping school, honey.”
“I’m sorry mom,” Lila sighed.
Ranae looked at her quizzically, but Lila held up a finger telling her to wait.
“It’s fine, Lila. Just please, stop doing this. I know things at school are a little…” she trailed off, searching for the right word, “...rough right now, but-”
“Mom,” Lila interrupted, “I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to get something to eat. We’ll be home soon, okay?”
“Okay, stay safe, both of you. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Wow, mom. See you soon.”
Lila hung up the phone and sighed, shaking her head as she threw away their trash. She picked up her backpack and pulled Ranae to her feet.
“Mom wants us home. You want to spend the night?” Lila asked.
Ranae shook her head, “I can’t. My cousin is flying in from Connecticut, and I have to pick her up at two in the morning.”
“Ugh, fine,” Lila complained, playfully punching Ranae’s shoulder.
They walked out the doors and got back on the bike and sped back towards Lila’s house. When they pulled into the driveway, Marie stepped onto the porch. Lila and Ranae gave each other a quick hug, and then Ranae sped towards her house. Lila walked inside, past her mom, and went to the stairs.
“Lila!” her mom called. “Please, talk to me. I want to help you, but I can’t unless you talk to me.”
Lila ignored her and ran into her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. She sat on her bed and opened her laptop, pressing play. Pictures of a Marine floated on the laptop screen. Tears streamed down her cheeks as a picture of Lila, Marie, and the Marine in a hug floated onto her screen. Her mom knocked on the door.
“Go away!” Lila shouted, her voice cracking.
“Lila, please!” Marie sobbed, “Talk to me! I know you miss him, I do too! But I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”
Lila plugged in her earbuds and pulled up her YouTube playlist. She stuffed her earbuds in her ears and hit play, turning the volume all the way up. Electric guitar and loud drums blasted her eardrums, growling vocals screamed over the instrumentals. She heaved a loud sob and pulled out the razor blade she kept in her nightstand, rolling up her left sleeve. Many cuts, some scars, some fresh, covered her arm. She pressed the blade to skin, and drew it across her arm, blood streaming out of the cut. Only when blood covered her arm did she stop cutting herself. Lila closed out the slideshow and sat in the dark, her face illuminated by the Facebook page in front of her, her tears glittering in the artificial light.
I’m sorry, she texted Ranae.
She got a reply immediately.
What for?
I know I promised to stop, she typed, but I didn’t know what else to do…
Ranae took a while to reply, but when she did, all it said was,
Why?
Lila closed her laptop and plugged it into its charger and plugged her earbuds into her phone and pressed play. She closed her eyes, tears still leaking out over her cheeks as she fell asleep.
~
“Hello?” she called.
Lila looked around, seeing a single hallway leading towards a wooden door, which was cracked open enough to let the voices bounce towards Lila’s ears. She walked closer to door, hearing snippets of conversation.
“-not going to work!”
“What’s wrong with-”
“Shut the fuck up!”
As Lila pushed open the door, she saw three figures standing in front of her bathroom mirror, each holding a lit candle, dripping with blood. The middle figure had gauze wrapped around their right hand.
“Bloody Mary,” they chanted, “bloody Mary, bloody Mary!”
They blew out their candles and waited. Suddenly, one of the figures screamed in pure terror, then let out a blood-curdling wail which was abruptly cut short. The other two figures screamed and tried to run past Lila, but they only pushed her out of the room.
“Help us!” one of them screamed. “Please!”
Lila saw movement, then covered her ears as the sound of flesh being sliced open and the gurgling of death emitted from that room. The door slammed shut, and Lila awoke with a scream.
~
“Lila! Wake up!” Ranae shook Lila awake.
Lila saw that it was bright out. She checked her phone and saw that it was almost one. She threw off her blankets and stood up and stretched.
“Why didn’t you answer me last night? You had me worried sick!"
Lila shook her head, “It was nothing. I was tired, and I fell asleep. I’m fine.”
Ranae had tears running down her cheeks.
“Don’t lie to me, Lila! I know you’re not fine. I saw your arm! Why didn’t you just call me?”
Lila ignored her and picked up her sketchbook and pencils, flopping back on the bed.
“Don’t ignore me, Lila,” Ranae sobbed. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”
“Because!” Lila snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want help! I just don’t want to be a bother to anyone!”
Lila felt tears stream down her face, so she turned to her sketchbook, flipping through her old drawings. Ranae climbed into the bed and pulled Lila closer.
“You aren’t a bother, Lila,” she whispered in Lila’s ear. “You could never be a bother to me. You’re my girlfriend. I care about you, and it hurts me to see you like this. All I want is to see you happy, you know?”
Lila sighed, putting down her sketchbook and cuddling up to Ranae. They lay there, content with simply being together. Lila jumped when Ranae’s phone rang.
“Shit,” Ranae muttered. “Hey, mom! What? No, I told her she- Ugh! Fine! I’ll be there in a bit. But Lila’s coming too. Yes, she is! If she doesn’t go, I’m not going either. Well, fuck you too!”
Ranae hung up the phone, shaking her head and glaring at the wall. She turned her phone off and sat it on Lila’s nightstand.
“Mind if I stay here for a while?”
Lila laughed, “Stay as long as you want baby. You know mom loves when you stay with us.”
Lila and Ranae laughed, glad that Lila had such an amazing mother. Ranae couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Lila. She and her mom lived by themselves in a fairly large house. Ranae lived with her mom, dad, and 7 siblings in a small apartment. Her father was an alcoholic and beat Ranae and her siblings, and there was rarely enough food to go around. Lila and Marie both knew about Ranae’s family problems, but they were kind enough not to mention it, and they didn’t treat Ranae any different. The two girls spent the day playing games and watching Netflix, and at dinner time they ordered two small pizzas, one plain cheese, one with anchovies. All in all it was a great day. Lila was happy, Ranae was happy. The two girls fell asleep in each other’s arms, grins still on their faces.
~
Ranae stayed with Lila for almost two weeks before her mother came to take her home. Ranae waved from the backseat of the car, a smile on her face but fear in her eyes. Shortly after Ranae had left, Lila decided Ranae couldn’t go back there. She wouldn’t let Ranae’s father beat her senseless again.
“Mom! I’m going for a drive!” Lila called.
She grabbed the keys and sprinted out to the black Elantra. She put the keys in the ignition and started the car, pulling out of the driveway. She sped towards Ranae’s house, hoping she would get there in time. She didn’t see the truck until it was too late. Lila heard a deafening screech, followed by a crash and blinding lights in her eyes before she felt something snap, and her entire world fell away, leaving her alone in the dark.
~
She woke up gasping for breath, the taste of blood in her mouth. Lila screamed and spat out a clot of blood that had lodged itself in her throat. She groaned and hauled herself out of bed, a sharp pain in her side with every movement. Lila yelped and doubled over in pain, clutching her side as she felt something rip. Blood immediately soaked her shirt as she screamed in agony. Lila heard footsteps thundering down the hall. Someone sprinted to her room, holding her as Lila fell back into the black abyss that was her world.
~
Lila, a voice broke through the darkness, though it was more of an echo. Lila, it called, Lila wake up.
Lila opened her eyes. Bright light flooded her vision and she immediately squeezed them shut again. She heard voices echoing outside of her room. Shrill beeps broke Lila out of her trance.
“Lila,” Ranae whispered. “Lila, you need to wake up.”
Lila groaned and opened her eyes, seeing Ranae at her bedside. Her green eyes were bloodshot and tears fell down her face. She looked up as Lila coughed; her face lit up when she saw Lila’s eyes were open.
“You’re okay!” she screamed. “I was so worried about you!”
Lila saw movement behind Ranae, but she was unable to move. A shadow moved and shifted into a large, humanoid shape. It had long, sharp claws and glowing red eyes. Before Lila even knew what was happening, the creature lashed out, slicing Ranae into little ribbons. Ranae’s warm, sticky blood splattered on Lila’s face before the creature opened its mouth and Lila’s vision went dark.
~
Lila awoke with a scream, startling both her mom and Ranae. They both rushed to comfort her. Lila pulled off her heart monitors and IVs, rolling off the hospital bed.
“Lila, stay there,” Ranae ordered. “You need to wait for the doctors.”
Lila shook her head and hobbled over to the sink, turning on the faucet and bending over to drink. She heard footsteps enter the room behind her.
“Uh, miss?” A male voice said behind her. “I’ll have to ask you to get back in the bed.”
Lila whipped her head around and gave the doctor a vicious glare, one that would have caused anyone to back away slowly for fear that she would leap at them at any second. He began to sweat, looking very uncomfortable.
“No,” Lila rasped. “I’m leaving. Mom, Ranae, let’s go.”
Lila grabbed her backpack and started to walk out of the room, but was stopped by the doctor.
“Miss, I can’t let you leave!” he protested.
Lila was at her last straw. She punched the doctor and ran to the stairs, sprinting down to the first floor. She jumped the last few stairs and burst out the doors into the ER waiting room. She ran out the big double doors while fumbling in her bag for her car keys. When she found them, she set off the car alarm so that she could figure out where the car was parked. The car alarm blared somewhere to her left, and she sprinted towards the sound, ignoring the shouts behind her. She heard a single pair of footsteps behind her, and felt herself lifted up by a pair of strong arms. She braced herself to fight, but she noticed just in time that it was only Ranae.
“You really want out, don’t you?” she laughed.
Lila nodded and Ranae sprinted to her bike. Lila turned off the car alarm; she didn’t need it anymore. Lila put on her helmet and leaned into Ranae as they rode towards home. When they got there, Ranae pulled out her keys and unlocked the front door, opening it for Lila. They walked up the stairs to Lila’s bedroom, and Lila’s eyes widened with shock. Her room was clean; no clothes were on the floor, and her bed was made. Lila looked at Ranae, back at the room, then at Ranae again. Ranae had a guilty expression on her face.
“Ranae!” Lila cried, laughing.
Ranae blushed, “I missed you! I couldn’t go home, so I stayed here. I figured I’d clean a bit, so you didn’t have to.”
Lila laughed, shaking her head and ripping off her blue hospital gown and trading it for black fuzzy pants and a black tank top. Ranae sat down on the bed and pulled out her phone. Lila sat beside Ranae and rested her head on Ranae’s shoulder.
“Who’s Angel?” she asked, looking at who Ranae was texting.
She looked at Ranae’s face which had contorted into a mask of disgust and hatred.
“My filthy fucking cousin,” she spat.
Lila shrank back, surprised by the venom in Ranae’s voice. Ranae noticed, and her face softened into a weak smile.
“Sorry,” Ranae apologized. “Angel and I don’t really get along that well; not since she tried to start a fight with me.”
Lila tilted her head slightly to one side and asked, “Do you want me to get rid of her?”
Ranae sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She pondered whether or not she should say yes.
“Yeah,” Ranae sighed, “but that doesn’t mean kill her!” she added, seeing Lila start to reach for her knives.
Lila sighed, a disappointed look on her face.
“How am I supposed to get rid of her then?”
“We just need to scare her. I know she’s afraid of ghosts… hmm, maybe… Ooh! We could have Sabrina dress up as Bloody Mary and scare the shit out of Angel. I played the game with her when we were younger, and I scared her so bad she fainted.”
Ranae and Lila burst out laughing, falling into each other.
“Let’s do it!” Lila cackled. “Next weekend?”
“Sure! I’ll get her to come over and meet you. We only have 7 days to prepare, so let’s make it count.”
As they were laughing, Lila’s mom stormed into the room, a look of immense relief masked her face.
“Thank god you’re here!” she cried. “I was worried sick!”
Lila stood up and walked towards Marie, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m sorry, mom,” she whispered. “For everything. I should have just talked to you. I don’t want to do this alone anymore.”
Marie held her daughter tight, tears in her eyes.
“You don’t have to be alone, honey. Your father would have been so proud of you, Lila.”
Lila pulled away from her mom, tears in her eyes but a smile on her lips. Her mom walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. For the rest of the night, Lila and Ranae made arrangements for the coming weekend. Marie was taking a trip to visit her sister that weekend, so Lila, Ranae, and Angel would have the house to themselves. The next week sped by in a blur of scheming and preparation. Sabrina was hesitant, but she eventually agreed. By the time Friday arrived, everything was prepared, maybe even a little over prepared.
“Come on Angel!” Ranae groaned, thumping back downstairs. “She doesn’t bite!”
Lila laughed as Ranae dragged Angel into the room. She was about 4’11 with long, straight black hair. She had beautiful hazel eyes, and her skin was a light caramel tone. She appeared to be somewhere between 14 and 17.
“Hey!” Lila smiled. “Angel, right? I’m Lila!”
Ranae pushed Angel in front of her, as she was hiding behind the taller girl, and her face flushed scarlet. She avoided eye contact, but her eyes flicked up and down Lila’s body. Lila was wearing blue short socks, black leggings, and an oversized “Avenged Sevenfold” t-shirt.
“Well,” Lila laughed, “you two ready for dinner? We have a few hours to kill until midnight.”
Ranae glanced at the clock, which read 9:49. Lila headed downstairs and began to plate the pasta and poured homemade sauce over the pasta. As they ate, Lila texted Sabrina, reminding her that it was almost time. While Lila and Ranae laughed and chatted, Angel was silent, staring down at her plate and shooting the occasional glance towards Lila. Lila was starting to get annoyed by this, so when they were putting their plates in the sink, Lila pulled Ranae to the side.
“What’s her deal?” Lila asked. “She keeps staring at me, and she hasn’t made a sound all night.”
Ranae grimaced, “She usually can’t shut up. I caught her checking you out earlier, so maybe...I think she has a crush on you.”
“What?!” she screeched, startling Angel and making her jump.
Lila looked at the clock and took a few deep breaths.
“Whatever,” she sighed. “Let’s get ready. It’s almost time.”
~
The clock struck midnight as Lila lit the candles. She slid a blade across her palm and dripped a few drops of blood in each candle. She wrapped her palm in gauze and handed a candle to both Angel and Ranae. Their faces looked hollow and sunken in the flickering candle light.
“Ready?” Lila asked both of them.
Ranae smirked, giving an evil grin as her and Angel nodded, Angel’s face masked in fear.
“Bloody Mary,” they chanted, “bloody Mary, bloody Mary!”
They blew out their candles, sending the room into darkness. This was Sabrina’s cue, but she wasn’t here, it seemed. Lila checked her texts; she saw a text from Sabrina pop up.
“Can’t make it,” Lila read out loud. “So sorry guys!”
“What the hell, Sabrina?” Ranae groaned.
The girls turned to leave, but the door wouldn’t open. Lila jiggled the knob, but it was jammed. Lila slammed her shoulder into the door, trying to break it down, but it wouldn’t budge. Ranae flicked on the light and the three girls squinted as the light temporarily blinded them. Angel let out a blood-curdling scream. Lila and Ranae turned around just in time to see Angel being dragged towards the mirror. She thrashed and tried to fight, but it was no use. She was dragged into the mirror, blood pouring out moments after Angel’s screams stopped.
“What the hell?” Ranae gasped.
Lila shook her head, unable to comprehend what she just saw. Her eyes widened as a blood-coated young woman crawled out of the mirror. She stared at the two teens with her soulless black eyes, smiling a cold, toothy grin and licked her lips. Her tongue was slit, similar to a serpent's. She opened her mouth and screamed, an ear-shattering, unearthly wail. Blood poured out of her mouth and onto the floor. It writhed with life, almost like vines, and wrapped around Ranae’s ankles, climbing up her waist and torso, ensnaring her and only squeezing tighter as she struggled.
“Ranae!” Lila screamed.
Ranae looked at Lila, panic and fear in her eyes.
“I love you, Lila,” Ranae whimpered. “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”
Lila watched, sobbing as the woman walked towards Ranae and ripped Ranae’s throat to shreds. Blood splattered on the woman’s face, and Ranae’s eyes widened as she gurgled and choked on her own blood.
“Ranae!” Lila howled as the life left Ranae’s eyes.
Lila felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as Ranae’s body thudded to the floor. Lila scrambled to Ranae’s body, sobbing as she ran her hand through Ranae’s hair. She cradled Ranae in her lap, rocking back and forth. She screamed a grief-stricken wail at the loss of her beloved. Lila couldn’t believe it, couldn’t handle it. First her father, now Ranae.
“Just do it!” she screamed. “Kill me!”
The woman wailed again and the blood on the floor writhed with life once more. It wrapped Lila in a cocoon and held her still. The woman knelt down in front of Lila and stroked Lila’s tear-streaked face.
“Not yet,” she rasped. “It isn’t yet time for you.”
Lila looked at her. The woman began walking back towards the mirror, stepping inside. Lila crawled to her feet, running to the mirror and banging her fists on the mirror.
“No!” she screamed.
The mirror shattered, slicing Lila’s hands. Lila screamed and crawled to the corner. She rocked back and forth, screaming and crying. When her mother walked into the house, she heard Lila screaming and rushed upstairs.
“Lila!” she shouted.
She saw a crack of light under the bathroom door and threw the door open. Marie gasped as she saw the carnage. Blood splattered the walls, pooling on the floor. Ranae’s body was sprawled out on the floor, and Lila was rocking in a corner, a haunted expression on her face. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out.
“Lila,” Marie whispered. “What did you do?”
Lila stood up slowly, staring at her mother with her pocket knife in her hand. She had a determined look on her blood- and tear-streaked face.
“She said it wasn’t my time yet,” she said, her voice cracking as fresh tears flowed down her face, “but I say it is.”
Before Marie could stop her, Lila drew the blade across her throat, blood spraying out of the cut.
“Lila!” Marie screamed, catching her daughter as she fell.
As tears fell down Marie’s face, Lila reached up and cupped her mother’s face in her hand. She smiled, a peaceful expression on her face as she closed her ocean blue eyes for the last time.

By Thomas Mann Translation by H. T. Lowe-Porter The sleighing party had taken place on the twenty-sixth of February, and was talked of for long afterwards. The next day, February twenty-seventh, a day of thaw, that set everything to melting and dripping, splashing and running, Herr Klöterjahn's wife was in capital health and spirits. On the twenty-eighth she brought up a little blood——not much, still it was the blood, and ac- companied by far greater loss of strength than ever before. She went to bed. Dr. Leander examined her, stony-faced. He prescribed accord- ing to the dictates of science——morphia, little pieces of ice, abso- lute quiet. Next day, on account of pressure of work, he turned her case over to Dr. Müller, who took it on in humility and meekness of spirit and according to the letter of his contract—— a quiet, pallid, insignificant little man, whose unadvertised activities were consecrated to the care of the slight cases and the hopeless ones. Dr. Müller presently expressed the view that the separation between Frau Klöterjahn and her spouse had lasted overlong. It would be well if Herr Klöterjahn, in case his flourishing business permitted, were to make another visit to Einfried. One might write him——or even wire. And surely it would benefit the young mother's health and spirits if he were to bring young Anton with him——quite aside from the pleasure it would give the physician to behold with their own eyes this so healthy little Anton. And Herr Klöterjahn came. He got Herr Müller's little wire and arrived from the Baltic coast. He got out of the carriage, ordered coffee and rolls, and looked considerably aggrieved. "My dear sir," he asked, "what is the matter? Why have I been summoned?" "Becauses it is desirable that you should be near your wife," Dr. Müller replied. "Desirable! Desirable! But is it necessary? It is a question of expense with me——times are poor and railway journeys cost money. Was it imperative I should take this whole day's journey? If it were the lungs that are attacked, I should say nothing. But as it is only the trachea, thank God——" "Herr Klöterjahn," said Dr. Müller mildly, "in the first place the trachea is an important organ. . . ." He ought not to have said "in the first place," because he did not go on to the second. But three also arrived at Einfried, in Herr Klöterjahn's com- pany, a full-figured personage arrayed all in red and gold and plaid, and she it was who carried on her arm Anton Klöterjahn, junior, that healthy little Anton. Yes, there he was, and nobody could deny that he was healthy even to excess. Pink and white and plump and fragrant, in fresh and immaculate attire, he rested heavily upon the bare red arm of his bebraided body-servant, consumed huge quantities of milk and chopped beef, shouted and screamed, and in every way surrendered himself to his instincts. Our author from the window of his chamber had seen him arrive. With a peculiar gaze, both veiled and piercing, he fixed young Anton with his eye as he was carried from the carriage into the house. He stood there a long time with the same expres- sion on his face. Herr Spinell was sitting in his room "at work." His room was like all the others at Einfried——old-fashioned, simple, and distinguished. The massive chest of drawers was mounted with brass lions' heads; the tall mirror on the wall was not a single surface, but made up of many little panes set in lead. There was no carpet on the polished blue paved floor, the stiff legs of the furniture prolonged themselves on it in clear-cut shadows. A spacious writing-table stood at the window, across whose pans the author had drawn the folds of a yellow curtain, in all probability that he might feel more retired. In the yellow twilight he bent over the table and wrote—— wrote one of those numerous letter which he sent weekly to the post and to which, quaintly enough, he seldom or never received an answer. A large, thick quire of paper lay before him, in whose upper left-hand corner was a curious involved drawing of a land- scape the name Detlev Spinell in the very latest thing in let- tering. He was covering the page with a small, painfully neat, and punctiliously traced script. "Sir:" he wrote, "I address the following lines to you be- cause I cannot help it; because what I have to say so fills and shakes and tortures me, the words come in such a rush, that I should choke if I did not take this means to relieve myself." If the truth were told, this about the rush of words was quite simply wide of the fact. And God knows what sort of vanity it was made Herr Spinell put it down. For his words did not come in a rush; they came with such pathetic slowness, considering the man was a writer by trade, you would have drawn the conclusion, watching him, that a writer is one to whom writing comes harder than to anybody else. He held between two finger-tip one of those curious downy hairs he had on his cheek, and twirled it round and round, whole quarter-hours at a time, gazing into space and not coming for- ward by a single line; then wrote a few words, daintily, and stuck again. Yet so much was true: that what had managed to get written sounded fluent and vigorous, though the matter was odd enough, even almost equivocal, and at times impossible to follow. "I feel," the letter went on, "an imperative necessary to make you see what I see; to show you through my eyes, illumined by the same power of language that cloths them from me, all the things which have stood before my inner eye for weeks, like an indelible vision. It is my habit to yield to the impulse which urges me to put my own experiences into flamingly right and unforget- table words and to give them to the world. And therefore hear me. "I will do no more than relate what has been and what is: I will merely tell a story, a brief, unspeakably touching story, without comment, blame, or passing of judgment; simply in my own words. It is the story of Gabriele Eckhof, of the woman whom you, sir, call your wife——and mark you this: it is your story, it happened to you, yet it will be I who will for the first time lift it for you to the level of an experience. "Do you remember the garden, the old, overgrown garden behind the grey patrician house? The moss was green in the cran- nies of its weather-beaten wall, and behind the wall dreams and neglect held sway. Do you remember the fountain in the centre? The pale mauve lilies leaned over its crumbling rim, the little stream prattled softly as it fell upon the riven paving. The sum- mer day was drawing to its close. "Seven maidens sat circlewise round the fountain; but the sev- enth, or rather the first and only one, was not like the others, for the sinking sun seemed to b weaving a queenly coronal among her locks. Her eyes were like troubled dreams, and yet her pure lips wore a smile." "They were singing. They lifted their little faces to the leaping streamlet and watched its charming curve droop earthward—— their music hovered round it as it leaped and danced. Perhaps their slim hands were folded in their laps the while they sang. "Can you, sir, recall the scene? Or did you ever see it? No, you saw it not. Your eyes were not formed to see it nor your ears to catch the chaste music of their song. You saw it not, or else you would have forbade your lungs to breathe, your heart to beat. You must have turned aside and gone back to your own life, tak- ing with you what you had seen to preserve it in the depth of your soul and to the end of your earthly life, a sacred and inviolable relic. But what did you do? "That scene, sir, was an end and a culmination. Why did you come to spoil it, to give it a sequel, to turn it into the channels of ugly and commonplace life? It was a peaceful apotheosis and a moving, bathed in a sunset beauty of decadence, decay, and death. An ancient stock, too exhausted and refined for life and action, stood there at the end of its days; its latest manifestations were those of art: violin notes, full of that melancholy understanding that is ripeness for death. . . . Did you look into her eyes—— those eyes where tears so often stood, lured by the dying sweet- ness of the violin? Her six friends may have had souls that be- longed to life; but hers, the queen's and sister's, death and beauty had claimed for their own. "You saw it, that deathly beauty; saw, and coveted. The sight of that touching purity moved you with no awe or trepidation. And it was not enough for you to see, you must possess, you must use, you must desecrate. . . . It was the refinement of a choice you made——you are a gourmand, sir, a plebeian gourmand, a peasant with taste. "Once more let me say that I have no wish to offend you. What I have just said is not an affront; it is a statement, a simple, psychological statement of your simple personality——a personality which for literary purposes is entirely uninteresting. I make the statement solely because I feel an impulse to clarify for you your own thoughts and actions; because it is my inevitable task on this earth to call things by their right names, to make them speak, to illuminate the unconscious. The world is full of what I call the unconscious type, and I cannot endure it; I cannot endure all these unconscious types! I cannot bear all this dull, uncomprehend- ing, unperceiving living and behaving, this world of maddening naïveté about me! It tortures me until I am driven irresistibly to set it all in relief, in the round, to explain, to express, and make self- conscious everything in the world——so far as my powers will reach——quite unhampered by the result, whether it be for good or evil, whether it bring consolation and healing or piles grief on grief. "You, sir, as I said, are a plebeian gourmand, a peasant with taste. You stand upon an extremely low evolutionary level; your own constitution is coarse-fibred. But wealth and sedentary habit of life have brought about in you a corruption of the nerv- ous system, as sudden as it is unhistoric; and this corruption has been accompanied by a lascivious refinement in your choice of gratifications. It is altogether possible that the muscles of your gullet began to contract, as at the sight of some particularly rare dish, when you conceived the idea of making Gabriele Eckhof your own. "In short, you lead her idle will astray, you beguile her out of that moss-grown garden into the ugliness of life, you give her your own vulgar name and make of her a married woman, a housewife, a mother. You take that deathly beauty——spent, aloof, flowering in lofty unconcern of the uses of this world——and de- base it to the service of common things, you sacrifice it to that stupid, contemptible, clumsy graven image we call 'nature'—— and not the faintest suspicion of the vileness of your conduct visits your peasant soul. "Again. What is the result? This being, whose eyes are like troubled dreams, she bears you a child; and so doing she endows the new life, a gross continuation of its author's own, with all the blood, all the physical energy she possess——and she dies. She dies, sir! And if she does not go hence with your vulgarity upon her head; if at the very last she has lifted herself out of the depths of degredation, and passes in an ecstasy, with the deathly kiss of beauty on her brow——well, it is I, sir, who have seen to that! You, meanwhile, were probably spending your time with the cham- bermaids in dark corners. "But your son, Gabriele Eckhof's son, is alive; he is living and flourishing. Perhaps he will continue in the way of his father, become a well-fed, trading, tax-paying citizen; a capable, philistine pillar of society; in any case, a tone-deaf, normally functioning individual, responsible, sturdy, and stupid, troubled by not a doubt. "Kindly permit me to tell you, sir, that I hate you. I hate you and your child, as I hate the life of which you are the representa- tive: cheap, ridiculous, but yet triumphant life, the everlasting antipodes and deadly enemy of beauty. I cannot say I despise you ——for I am honest. You are stronger than I. I have no armour for the struggle between us, I have only the Word, avenging weapon of the weak. Today I have availed myself of this weapon. This letter is nothing but an act of revenge——you see how honourable I am——and if any word of mine is sharp and bright and beautiful enough to strike home, to make you feel the presence of a power you do not know, to shake even a minute your robust equilibrium, I shall rejoice indeed.——DETLEV SPINELL." And Herr Spinell put this screed into an envelop, applied a stamp and a many-flourished address, and committed it to the post. Herr Klöterjahn knocked on Herr Spinell's door. He carried a sheet of paper in his hand covered with neat script, and he looked like a man bent on energetic action. The post office had done its duty, the letter had taken its appointed way: it had travelled from Einfried to Einfried and reached the hand for which it was meant. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon. Herr Klöterjahn's entry found Herr Spinell sitting on the sofa reading his own novel with the appalling cover-design. He rose and gave his caller a surprised and inquiring look, though at the same time he distinctly flushed. "Good afternoon," said Herr Klöterjahn. "Pardon the inter- ruption. But may I ask if you wrote this?" He held up in his left hand the sheet inscribed with fine clear characters and struck it with the back of his right and made it crackle. Then he stuffed that hand into the pocket of his easy-fitting trousers, put his head on one side, and opened his mouth, in a way some people have to listen. Herr Spinell, curiously enough, smiled; he smiled engagingly, with a rather confused, apologetic air. He put his hand to his head as though trying to recollect himself, and said: "Ah!——yes, quite right, I took the liberty——" The fact was, he had given in to his natural man today and slept nearly up to midday, with the result that he was suffering from a bad conscience and a heavy head, was nervous and in- capable of putting up a fight. And the spring air made him limp and good-for-nothing. So much we must say in extenuation to the utterly silly figure he cut in the interview which followed. "Ah? Indeed! Very good!" said Herr Klöterjahn. He dug his chin into his chest, elevated his brows. stretched his arms, and indulged in various other antics by way of getting down to busi- ness after his introductory question. But unfortunately he so much enjoyed the figure he cut that he rather overshot the mark, and the rest of the scene hardly lived up to this preliminary panto- mime. However, Herr Spinell went rather pale. "Very good!" repeated Herr Klötrejahn. "Then permit me to give you an answer in person; it strikes me as idiotic to write pages of letter to a person when you can speak to him any hour of the day." "Well, idiotic . . ." Herr Spinell said, with his apologetic smile He sounded almost meek. "Idiotic!" repeated Herr Klöterjahn, nodding violently in token of the soundness of his position. "And I should not de- mean myself to answer this scrawl; to tell the truth, I should have thrown it away at once if I had not found in it the explanation of certain changes——however, that is no affair of yours, and has nothing to do with the thing anyhow. I am a man of action, I have other things to do than to think about your unspeakable visions." "I wrote 'indelible vision,'" said Herr Spinell, drawing himself up. This was the only moment at which he displayed a little self- respect. "Indelible, unspeakable," responded Herr Klöterjahn, referring to the text. "You write a villainous hand, sir; you would not get a position in my office, let me tell you. It looks clear enough at first, but when you come to study it, it is full of shakes and quavers. But that is your affair, it's no business of mine. What I have come to say to you is that you are a tomfool——which you probably know already. Furthermore, you are a cowardly sneak; I don't suppose I have to give the evidence for that either. My wife wrote me once that when you met a woman you don't look her square in the face, but just give her a side squint, so as to carry away a good impression, because you are afraid of the reality. I should probably have heard more of the same sort of a stories about you, only unfortunately she stopped mentioning you. But this is the kind of thing you are: you talk so much about 'beauty'; you are all chicken-livered hypocrisy and cant——which is probably at the bottom of all your impudent allusions to out-of-the-way corners too. That ought to crush me, of course, but it just makes me laugh ——it doesn't do a thing but make me laugh! Understand? Have I clarified your thoughts and actions for you, you pitiable object, you? Though of course it is not my invariable calling——" "'Inevitable' was the word I used," Herr Spinell said; but he did not insist on the point. He stood there, crestfallen, like a big, unhappy, chidden, grey-haired schoolboy. "Invariably or inevitably, whichever you like——anyhow you are a contemptible cur, and that I tell you. You see me every day at table, you bow and smirk and say good-morning——and one fine day you send me a scrawl full of idiotic abuse. Yes, you've a lot of courage——on paper! And it's not only this ridiculous letter ——you have been intriguing behind my back. I can see that now. Though you need not flatter yourself it did any good. If you imagine you put any ideas into my wife's head you never were more mistaken in your life. And if you think she behaved any dif- ferent when we came from what she always dos, then you just put the cap onto your own foolishness. Sh did not kiss the little chap, that's true, but it was only a precaution, because they have the idea now that the trouble is with her lungs, and in such cases you can't tell whether——though that still remains to be proved, no matter what you say with your 'She dies, sir,' you silly ass!" Here Herr Klöterjahn paused for breath. He was in a furious passion; he kept stabbing the air with his right forefinger and crumpled the sheet of paper in his other hand. His face, between the blond English mutton-chops, was frightfully red and his dark brow was rent with swollen veins like lightnings of scorn. "You hate me," he went on, "and you would despise me if I were not stronger than you. Yes, you're right there! I've got my heart in the right place, by God, and you've got yours mostly in the seat of your trousers. I would most certainly hack you into bits if it weren't against the law, you and your gabble about the 'Word,' you skulking fool! But I have no intention of putting up with your insults; and when I show this part about the vulgar name to my lawyer at home, you will very likely get a little sur- prise. My name, sir, is a first-rate name, and I have made it so by my own efforts. You know better than I do whether anybody would ever lend you a penny piece on yours, you lazy lout! The law defends people against the kind you are! You are a common danger, you are enough to drive a body crazy! But you're left this time, my master! I don't let individuals like you get the best of me so fast! I've got my heart in the right place——" Herr Klöterjahn's excitement had really reached a pitch. He shrieked, he bellowed, over and over again, that his heart was in the right place. "'They were singing.' Exactly. Well, they weren't. They were knitting. And if I heard what they said, it was about a recipe for potato pancakes; and when I show my father-in-law that about the old decayed family you'll probably have a libel suit on your hands. 'Did you see the picture?' Yes, of course I saw it; only I don't see why that should make me hold my breath and run away. I don't leer at women out of the corner of my eye; I look at them square, and if I like their looks I go for them. I have my heart in the right place——" Somebody knocked. Knocked eight or ten times, quite fast, on after the other——a sudden, alarming little commotion that made Herr Klöterjahn pause; and an unsteady voice that kept tripping over itself in its haste and distress said: "Herr Klöterjahn, Herr Klöterjahn——oh, is Herr Klöterjahn there?" "Stop outside," said Herr Klöterjahn, in a growl. . . . "What;s the matter? I'm busy talking." "Oh, Herr Klöterjahn," said the quaking, breaking voice, "you must come! The doctors are there too——oh, it is all so dreadfully sad——" He took one step to the door and tore it open. Frau Magistrate Spatz was standing there. Sh had her handkerchief before her mouth, and great egg-shaped tars rolled into it, two by two. "Herr Klöterjahn," she got out. "It is so frightfully sad. . . . She has brought up so much blood, such a horrible lot of blood. . . . She was sitting up quietly in bed and humming a little snatch of music . . . and there it came . . . my God, such a quantity you never saw. . . ." "Is she dead?" yelled Herr Klöterjahn. As he spoke he clutched the Rätin by the arm and pulled her to and fro on the sill. "Not quite? Not dead; she can see me, can't she? Brought up a little blood again, from the lung, eh? Yes, I give in, it may be from the lung. Gabriele!" he suddenly cried out, and his eyes filled with tears; you could see what a burst of good, warm, honest human feeling came over him. "Yes, I'm coming," he said, and dragged the Rätin after him as he went with long strides down the corri- dor. You could still hear his voice, from quite a distance, sounding fainter and fainter: "Not quite, eh? From the lung?" Herr Spinell stood still on the spot where he had stood during the whole of Herr Klöterjahn's rudely interrupted call and looked out the open door. At length he took a couple of steps and listened down the corridor. But all was quiet, so he closed the door and came back into the room. He looked at himself awhile in the glass, then he went up to the writing-table, too a little flask and a glass out of a drawer, and drank a cognac——for which nobody can blame him. Then he stretched himself out on the sofa and closed his eyes. The upper half of the window was down. Outside in the garden birds were twittering; those dainty, saucy little notes held all the spring, finely and penetrating expressed. Herr Spinell spoke once: "Invariable calling," he said, and moved his head and drew in the air through his teeth as though his nerves pained him violently. Impossible to recover any poise or tranquility. Crude experi- ences like this were too much——he was not made for them. By a sequence of emotions, the analysis of which would lead us too far afield. Herr Spinell arrived at the decision that it would be well for him to have a little out-of-doors exercise. He took his hat and went downstairs. As he left the house and issued into the mild, fragrant air, he turned his head and lifted his eyes, slowly, scanning the house until he reached one of the windows, a curtained window, on which his gaze rested awhile, fixed and sombre. Then he laid his hands on his back and moved away across the gravel path. He moved in deep thought. The beds were still straw-covered, the trees and bushes bare; but the snow was gone, the path was only damp in spots. The large garden and its grottoes, bowers and little pavilions lay in the splendid colourful afternoon light, strong shadow and rich, golden sun, and the dark network of branches stood out sharp and articulate against the bright sky. It was about that hour of the afternoon when the sun takes shape, and from being a formless volume of light turns to a visibly sinking disk, whose milder, more saturated glow the eye can tolerate. Herr Spinell did not see the sun, the direction the path took hid it from his view. He walked with bent head and hummed a strain of music, a short phrase, a figure that mounted wailingly and complainingly upward——the Sehnsuchtsmotiv. . . . But sud- denly with a start, a quick, jerky intake of breath, he stopped, as though rooted to the path, and gazed straight ahead of him, with brows fiercely gathered, staring eyes, and an expression of horri- fied repulsion. The path had curved just here, he was facing the setting sun. It stood large and slantwise in the sky, crossed by two narrow strips of gold-rimmed could; it set the tree-tops aglow and poured its red-gold radiance across the garden. And there, erect in the path, in the midst of the glory, with the sun's mighty aureola above her head, there confronted him an exuberant figure, all arrayed in red and gold and plaid. She had one hand on her swell- ing hip, with the other she moved to and fro the graceful little perambulator. And in this perambulator sat the child——sat Anton Klöterjahn, junior, Gabriele Eckhof's fat son. There he sat among his cushions, in a woolly white jacket and large white hat, plump-cheeked, well cared for, and magnificent; and his blithe unerring gaze encountered Herr Spinell's. The novelist pulled himself together. Was he not a man, had he not the power to pass this unexpected, sun-kindled apparition there in the path and continue on his walk? But Anton Klöterjahn began to laugh and shout——most horrible to see. He squealed, he crowed with inconceivable delight——it was positively uncanny to hear him. God knows what had taken him; perhaps the sight of Herr Spinell's long, black figure set him off; perhaps an attack of sheer animal spirits gave rise to his wild outburst of merriment. He had a bone teething-ring in on hand and a tin rattle in the other; and these two objects he flung aloft with shoutings, shook them to and fro, and chased them together in the air, as though purposely to frighten Herr Spinell. His eyes were almost shut, his mouth gaped open till all the rosy gums were displayed; and as sh shouted he rolled his had about in excess of mirth. Herr Spinell turned round and went thence. Pursued by the youthful Klöterjahn's joyous screams, he went away across the gravel, walking stiffly, yet not without grace; his gait was the hes- itating gait of one who would disguise the fact that, inwardly, he is running away. 1902 

From Thomas Mann: Stories of Three Decades, Translated from the German by H. T. Lowe-Porter. Copyright, 1930, 1931, 1934, 1935, 1936, by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. The Modern Library edition, Random House, Inc. pp. 156—166.
Jet fuel does not burn hot enough to melt steel.

The scene pans above the crop field that was dimly lit by dispersed lights, only turning on when a queen was near.
”It’s time for the second floor show. Let’s meet our innocent sweethearts that… didn’t have it so lucky when rolling about with their country boy friends in the fields.”
ANGELIQUE GIRL: For her glamor look, Angelique is wearing her favorite fabric on this earth: Denim. She's wearing a denim bodysuit with a darker jean vest with matching jean pumps and sleeves. On her legs there are blue rhinestones that run up the side of her leg. She's wearing a big nest of blonde hair that resembles Dolly Parton's fabulous hair. She comes out of the corn, skipping and giggling like a country darling. She bends over to pick up a corn husk which shows off her padded ass, the word juicy written across her ass. She then proceeds to try to deepthroat some corn before giggling and skipping back into the corn.
ANGELIQUE ALIEN: For her alien look, Angelique is giving you sextraterrestrial. She's wearing a dark green skintight bodysuit that is ribbed for your pleasure! Right where her pussy should be is a prosthetic mouth full of jagged teeth. She has huge boobs with eyes instead of nipples. Her face is painted all green, with a black contour and her eyes covered with green eyepatches. She then has a long black with with a dildo fascinator that is covered in cum. Around her mouth is globs of intergalactic semen. These globs are many different colors to represent all the species she has blown. She comes crawling out of the woods dildos in each hand. Once she's in the crop circle, she jumps to her feet and does her mating call which is a loud gutter screech (similar to the sound of a Banshee). She sets one of the dildos down and lowers her teeth pussy onto it. The jagged edges of the fake teeth tear into the dildo while she is deepthroating the other. The dildo in her fake pussy presses against a sac of goo hidden in her pads that then make her pussy leak a rainbow colored goo. She then rolls in the goo a bit before crawling back into the corn, husks and dirt sticking to her.
BIANCA GIRL: For her “innocent girl” look, Bianca is wearing a full light brown straight wig with bangs and a golden flower crown in her head. She has big glossy pink lips, yellow and pink eyeshadow, black cat eye makeup and long full eyelashes. She has a small pink leather choker and a catsuit on with a heart shaped neckline. The catsuit is tight around her large, overproportional breasts and her cinched waist, and is printed in a colour gradient that starts white and progressively becomes more pink until the bottom of look, where the legs of the catsuit is baby pink. Around her waist Bianca has a golden and pink leather belt, and over the catuit she has a yellow short jacket with long sleeves, with the words “Queen Bee” stitched on the back in big pink letters. She has pink boots on. On her right hand Bianca carries a big white purse that looks like a Valentino bag, a large diamond ring and a big oval white pair of sunglasses resting between her breasts.
*“Hey queens!” Bianca begins to speak in a nasal voice as she’s holding the camera to her face “So… First of all, I just wanted to say THANK YEW ALL that subscribed to my channel, we just got 700.000 subscribers!” She moves the camera up and down like it is jumping around, celebrating, it’s possible to see the field she’s in on the background. “OH MY GOD, that’s like… amazing you guys! Seriously, I speak from the bottom of my silicone implants that I’m really thankful for all the support you boos keep giving me! It's because of you that I’m still skinny!”. She laughs in a very fake way and focus the camera in her breasts for a few seconds before cutting the take. Now, the camera leaves the “vlogger” format and someone else is recording Bianca, like a cameramen. “Today, I’m here at this trashy cornfield to use things that are available to everyone that’s not as rich as I am…” She points to the camera “And like use common items found around poor people’s environments to prove that ANYTHING can be used to make you boos less ugly!”. She starts putting mud from the floor into a jar. “This will make an amazing mud mask! Perfect to cover your entire body!” She laughs again at the camera, spinning around the field while making sexy poses to the camera. She grabs some leaves from the floor “Oh wow that’s great to make some green juice, you guys!”. As she takes the leaves to store them in her white Valentino purse, she notices some diamonds on the floor in some sort of trail going into the field. Bianca looks surprised and confused “What is this…?”. She starts to take the small diamonds in her hand and, looking down, keeps following the trail “C’mon nose job… C’mon rib removal… Now I can do them all!”. She walks into the field, only to be pulled in by a mysterious figure. She screams as she disappears from the camera field of view, leaving behind her white purse and the pile of diamonds. Inside of her open purse, several empty Xanax bottles can be seen. The camera keeps recording as it runs towards the place where Bianca disappeared, only to run away after her scream can be heard in the distance. As the camera is running on the opposite direction of the screams, the “cameramen” suddenly falls, “being attacked”. The camera is turned off. *
BIANCA ALIEN: When the camera is on again, it is sitting on the floor viewing things from below. A big and slimy cyan coloured figure appears on the camera view. Covered in mud and a transparent slime, a big alien shows up in between the plantation holding a bloody human hand with a big diamond ring on it. The creature has a giant fat body, with large hips, stomach, thighs and arms. The alien is bare feet, but her feets are shaped in an arched way, kinda looking like it has high heels that are a part of its body. The entire body has weird patterns, looking like it has darker blue spots all over it. With its large, over proportional hands, the extra terrestrial creature holds the camera and holds it to its face. In the camera view, its now possible to see the two large triangular shaped breasts that the alien has, as well as its monstrous face, or, well… faces. The creature has 3 different faces, like a set of siamese triplets attached by the head. Each head has a set of 5 purple eyes (2 on the top, 3 on the bottom) with red vertical pupils, a sharp triangular nose and a wide mouth with purple lips. The side heads have their mouth sewn shut, making the middle one the only “free” one. On top of each the alien has small purple and red ponytails. The creature, all slimy, mud and blood covered walks around with the camera in her hand trying to figure it out how to use it, without noticing that it is already recording. The creature places the camera back on the floor and is possible to see a pool of blood and a bloody yellow jacket in the middle. While crawling around the floor, one of the alien arms seems to try to remove the stitches from one of the side heads mouth, only to be slapped back down by the other arm, like there are more than one “alive thing” inside the alien, almost like it’s not one big alien but actually 3 creatures molded together. As the creature goes towards the camera, blinking is eyes and breathing heavily, the main head open their mouth, letting bright blue blood drip down its body. Inside of the alien’s mouth that were also several little diamonds, almost like the creature produces them. After letting it all out, the extra terrestrial creature stares at the camera, opens a big smile (revealing a set of small but sharp red teeths) and say, in a deep monstrous voice “HEY GUYS… WELCOME TO THE FIRST VIDEO OF MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL”. The camera goes black again. (No need to add this to the actual episode, this is just some extra explanations) “Alien look explanation” or “How the fuck I, Bianca Bibancos, did this entire performance”: The fat alien body was made using a silicone/latex catsuit (similar to what Victoria’s look was in the alien challenge of Season 2). It was hand dyed and spray painted using the two blue shades. The entire thing (except hands and heads) are a one-piece thing, made and stuffed so the creature has a similar body shape as a morbidly obese person. The slime covering the body is your average homemade style slime, and the alien’s blue blood is actually the base for fake blood but with a bigger quantity of blue coloring over the regular red one. The heads are one big mask piece made also from the same material as the rest of the body. It all stays up thanks to chicken wires inside of it, making it possible for the 2 side heads to stay up like “regular” living heads just attached to the main head. The eyes on the two side heads are made from plastic, while I used contact lenses for my eyes (and plastic and paint for the others as well). The wig was hot glued to the back of the creature’s heads. For the first part of the scene, with the “beauty guru/vlogger girl, everything up until the moment were the cameramen run away is recorded by the actual crew of the show. The bit were the cameramen is attacked by the creature (off screen) as he tries to run away was recorded by me, assuming the place of the crew member. That’s all!
KORNUCOPIA GIRL: Innocent Girl The camera is set in the middle of the crop field. In the distance, Kornucopia can be seen galloping and jumping in slow-motion as she moves towards the camera. Her brown hair is several inches past her shoulders, braided like Dorothy’s hair in the Wizard of Oz. Her eyeliner and mascara are a simple black, while her blush is bright pink. Kornucopia’s lips are slightly overdrawn, and shaded a deep, bold red. She wears a red pinafore dress with white polka dots. This dress flares out widely just below her knees, almost like a tutu. The rest of her legs are covered by white stockings that end just above her knees. As she jumps, pink lace frills can be seen at the top of her stockings. Her heels are two-inch black lace pumps, the toes with a light red tint. Around her left wrist is a plain tan picnic basket. One side is open, and a red and white checkered tablecloth peeks out.
As Kornucopia continues joyfully dancing towards the camera, the camera pans to reveal red liquid slowly dripping out of the bottom of her basket, one drop at a time. She jumps onto a wheat crop from behind, laughing gleefully. Kornucopia rolls off of it and continues skipping around the crop field, smiling and giggling like a child. She quickly opens her picnic basket and pulls out a red apple dripping with the same red liquid from the bottom of the basket, then takes a big bite out of the apple and throws it over her shoulder. Kornucopia has now moved over to an open area where there is just grass below her. She looks at her skirt and notices a red stain on one of the polka dots. She gasps and plops down on her knees, desperately trying to scrub it out with a red hairbrush she produced from her picnic basket. To no avail, Kornucopia gives up and looks around in confusion. She locks eyes on the picnic basket and raises her eyebrows, leaning over and opening the basket. She rummages her hand around inside of it and gasps as her hand seemingly makes contact with an object. The camera pans to Kornucopia’s hand as she pulls out an opened jar of jam. She giggles as she dips a finger into the jam and tastes it. Her face forms a repulsed expression, as if the jam tastes awful. Kornucopia looks back into the basket slowly, gasping as the camera cuts to black.
KORNUCOPIA ALIEN: The crop field is pitch black. In the distance, an orange light can be seen glowing faintly. Slowly, Kornucopia starts to move into view. Her eyes are two beams of bright orange cutting through the darkness. Her entire face is entirely covered in a three-inch thick layer of SFX slime. All of the slime has an orange glow to it, but not as strong as the eyes. Both of these were created using different power LED lights. Covering Kornucopia’s eyes and the top of her head is a hard plastic headpiece with carved out eye sockets. The headpiece is a darker orange, and is similar to Thorgy’s redone neon look headpiece, except with more of a curve. She has large, pointed prosthetic teeth that poke out of her mouth, covered in clear slime. The rest of Kornucopia’s body is completely bare, but every inch of her skin is painted a shade of orange similar to her headpiece, and is also glazed with slime. Her 15-inch long, claw-like nails are a bright orange that pop out against her skin. Kornucopia’s shoe is a simple orange thigh high that blends in with her skin, giving the illusion that the heel is drilled into her foot. Kornucopia clumsily stumbles around the crops, letting out guttural shrieks and swiping at the crops with her claw nails. The camera pans behind her to reveal a shredded strip of red fabric with white polka dots stuck to her back. Kornucopia begins to hunt down the cameraman, swiping dangerously close, stomping closer one slow step at a time. A close-up of her face reveals slime dripping from her teeth as Kornucopia jerks her head forward, a stream of red liquid pouring out of her mouth afterwards. Then, she falls to the ground twitching, breaking a picnic basket as she rolls over it. Kornucopia lays faced own for a moment, before getting back up on all fours while letting out a low-pitched whine; it sounds otherworldly. She hops back up, and ensues in a high-speed chase after the camera. A failed swipe causes her to screech with anger and jump, pounding her heels into the earth as she throws her head and hands up to the sky. She takes a few dramatically slow steps forward, her blinding eyes pointed directly at the camera. Then, she grabs a stalk of wheat and rips it from the ground, screaming hysterically as the camera cuts to black.
EUTHANASIA GIRL: Euthanasia parts the grass hesitantly, her massive, Twiggy-like lashes bobbing up and down as she blinks. She then strides out of the grass, her heel-less, black velvet knee boots with iridescent metal plating sparkling in the fading daylight. Placing a pink latex gloved hand with 3 inch matte black nails with holo tips attached on her black paint melting tights, she slowly begins to realize she isn’t in any ordinary field. The upper portions of her thighs disappear under a transparent, pleated hot pink vinyl skirt that flips up as she exaggeratedly bends over to analyze the grass, her shiny gold thonged ass facing the judges.She then stands up and places her hand on her cheek in mock horror, her knees knocking as she drops her iPhone. Euthanasia then begins to pace at a rapid speed across the field, her ivory coat covered with iridescent zip ties swishing with movement. She then stop suddenly and drops the coat in a campily sexy manner, revealing a skin tight, blindingly shiny holo pink latex shirt that clings to her breast plate. She brushes a strand of long, ash purple hair out of her face and begins to freak out. Tears slowly begin to stream down her face, ruining her perfect highlight and intricate yellow & gold stoned eye makeup. Metallic freckles was down her face as she clutches her sides and begins to run into the field in a fit of panic. Before disappearing into the greenery, she turns to face the judges one last time, sending them a wistful look.
[EUTHANASIA]:I think my pretty girl outfit is absolutely beautiful. She looks like a character from a kid’s cartoon that ran at 3AM during the late 80’s on a no-name local station made by LSD addicts who thought it would be a great idea to soundtrack a show with Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” at half speed. Like, its out there
EUTHANASIA ALIEN: When Euthanasia returned to the crop circle, she looked unrecognizable. She enters with a deep bellow, startling the judges as she slithers out of the undergrowth into the center of the crop circle. Her mouth is twice as large as normal and looks red, infected and swollen with a meter long cascade of blue, purple and pink fiberglass extensions pouring out of it. Two ugly, yellow tusks coated in a thick layer of oil spill-like iridescent spit jut out from either side of her mouth, letting shiny spit drip all over her. Her eyes are massive multi faceted domes that look like fly eyes covered with fleshy animatronic lids that drip iridescent spit all over them. A football sized fleshy latex sack that resembles an octopus’s mantle full of multicolored lights replaces her hair. She clutches her two massive, nipple-less breasts with her spit covered hands, her seven inch red nails looking like razor sharp talons. A safety harness wrapped tightly around her waist oozes black, glittery blood down her front as she wriggles toward the field’s right side. Her legs form one large, fleshy digit incapable of walking, covered in dark black cuts. Euthanasia unleashes bloodcurdling, pitch-shifted cries of anguish as she flails around helpless on the ground, digging her slimy hands into the dirt while howling. She tears up the grass under her and throws it into the air, her shiny mouth tendrils shaking with the force of the movement. Euthanasia pauses briefly before frantically covering herself with dirt and grass to camouflage herself into her surroundings, her hand sharply jerking away from her body when she touches the wound. She then drags herself back into the darkness of the field, leaving a trail of shiny black gunk resembling an oil spill in her wake while hissing into the distance.
[EUTHANASIA]: I'm connecting the two outfits through sheen and color, specifically through iridescent…I wonder how many times i’ve said “iridescent” today…anyways, iridescent & holo shades. I want people to think of shiny bubbles when they see my cute girl outfit, and gross, fucked up oil spills when they see my ship wrecked caterpillar octopus monster woman. Same color at completely different ends of the spectrum! I hope I do well. Lugging a fat ass synthetic body around a dirty field for ten minutes with just your hands takes A LOT of energy. I’m pooped.
CHRISTINA GIRL: In her first look, Christina is serving up some catholic prep school realness. She wears a pleated skirt coming down to the middle of her thighs. The skirt is plaid, predominantly black with red patterning. She wears a white button up blouse and a black vest over top. The vest has the words "Lady Sepulcher's School for Heterosexual Catholics." as an insignia on the top right, right where a breast pocket would be. She wears a red tie that is much too long, stretching down past her vest to the top of her school. She wears black pumps with red tube socks. She wears a frizzy black wig styled in a ponytail. She has on black glasses with thick rounded frames that are almost too big for her face. Her makeup is soft, with light eye makeup and a red lip. In her hands is a large black tote bag with the her school's name on its front. As she walks around in the cornfield, she does stuff, including: Taking a bible out of her tote bag and reads the verse "Behold with a great plague will the LORD smite thy people and thy children, and thy wives, and all thy goods: And thou shalt have great sickness by disease of thy bowels, until thy bowels fall out by reason of the sickness day by day." (II Chronicles 21:14-15). She then giggles to herself She takes out her rosary beads and begins to start praying for God to smite the weak sinners of this cruel world She trips over some long grass, her skirt flipping up and becoming indecent. Christina screams in shock and frustration at her ungodly behavior She starts licking a red heart shaped lollipop when she suddenly drops it on the ground, it getting dirt and grass all over it. She picks it back up, dusts it off, and puts it back in her mouth. She sees a barn in the distance, with a blinding white light coming out of a window. She says "Oh my goodness! That's probably God" and starts running towards it, leaving her tote bag on the ground with its contents spilled out. 1st look end.
CHRISTINA ALIEN: Christina's alien look is a glowing scary catholic gargoyle-esque fantasy. The entirety of her skin is extremely pale, nearly the shade of a white bed sheet, with light gray veins covering the flesh. Her skin almost has the color and patterning of a marble tabletop. The flesh is also extremely thin, only a bit thicker than paper, and is translucent. Underneath, red, green, and black flesh can be seen slightly, but not fully. Her face resembles that of a gargoyle, with sharply pointed ears, wide eyes, a flattened, almost smushed nose, and a gaping mouth filled with sharp white teeth. In her eyes are contacts turning the whites of her eyes purple and green, the only spark of color on the creature. Her torso is almost a straight line of white flesh, with only the hint of a breastplate to drag it up. This straight line continues down until it hits where the knees would be, in which two legs separate to allow her to walk, albeit clumsily. At the bottom of legs are large stumps instead of human feet. Both her arms are outstretched, with each of them ending in a drooping mound instead of hands. Between her arms and elongated torso lie wings of flesh. Starting just in front of the mound and dropping down to hit the point where her torso become legs, the wings are jagged, with sharp points sticking out and swooping concaves within. She looks like a mutated angel.
As she walks around the cornfield, she can't do much due to her limited mobility. She slowly makes her way around, examining her tote bag and its contents with a palpable sense of longing in her eyes, and then quickly jerks away from it. She goes to the center of the cornfield. Once she gets to the middle, she starts glowing in a blinding white light, made using LED lights. She howls in pain as this takes place. Soon after, she starts shaking violently. Random points on her body start to gain color, created by those same LED lights. As she continues to convulse, more and more colored lights begin to appear. At the end, Christina is covered head to toe with colored lights. She looks like a stain glass painting that belongs in the Sistine Chapel. She has gone from horror to beauty. She starts walking off the cornfield, when she trips over a piece of tall grass. She starts ripping her still paper thin flesh as she wails out in pain. Ripping out of the flesh is the entity under the flesh: Christina as a catholic schoolgirl. Her outfit is ripped and covered in green mucus like slime, but she does not care. She climes out of the aliens flesh, grabs her tote bag, and dazedly walks away in shock and horror.
ANNIE GIRL: Annie is in a floor-length gown It is all white (no gold like the picture), and has a scarlet “A” embroidered on the chest. The gown has an intricate pattern that circles all around that eventually leads to a circle over Annie’s heart. She has her make-up done lightly. Soft pink tones that make her appear youthful & innocent. She strolls down a path with her love in arm; looking at him lovingly & innocently. Right when he strokes her cheek and leans in to kiss her, she looks into the sky horrified as a lock of her hair falls over her face. She then runs off the path into the cornfield looking terrified. As she spins around in the field clutching her pearl necklace and smearing her eye-makeup, mud catches on the ends of her dress and majestically flies off in little drops & her necklace breaks and sends white pearls all into the surrounding blank landscape as the camera goes slow-motion than cuts to black.
ANNIE ALIEN: The camera slowly gets closer to a figure surrounded by mist in the middle of the field. Annie is crouched down, as if she was just beamed down from the sky. With her fist in the ground she quickly looks up to reveal a fierce black all-around smokey-eye that surrounds her fluorescent blue contacts. Her skin is pale, which makes the smokey-eye that much more prominent. Fog looms all around her as she slowly stands up in the middle of the field still looking dead at the camera with a confused/interested look. Gurgling is heard coming from her throat as if she wants to say something. On the middle of her forehead is a big red “A.” The ends of the “A” hit the inner-corner of Annie’s smokey-eye & wraps around it so it appears as red eyeliner that makes a cateye on the outside corner of her eye as well. The rest of her face is painted like this but the lines follow her contour more. She has broken reeds from the nearby crop circle area being used as hairbands to tie her brunette hair up into rough mounds of curls on top of her head. Her ears were obviously gauged before; but now look like this (the one on the right). She has body-armor on exactly like this so it appears to have a 3D/Holographic effect on camera. Annie’s Lover from earlier than approaches her from behind. For a moment when Annie see’s him she looks relieved. Than an instant later her face snaps back too determination and she hits him in the temple with her sword and then laughs as she throws her hands into the sky and shouts something in an alien language made up of clicking sounds.
MARIANNA: Marianna drunkenly stumbles across the field. Her once elegant long white dress is now tattered and barely reaches her ankles in the back while exposing her knees in the front, the bottom of the dress brown with mud. Her luscious blonde updo is disheveled and barely retains any form and tiara in her hair is crooked and mangled. Her makeup is smudged and there’s a trail of vomit flowing down from her mouth. There are bits and pieces of glass sticking out of her chest and face, several tiny blood streaks run down her face and taint the top of the dress. She also wears a bloodied fascinator in the shape of car’s steering wheel with a make-up-sullied safety bag peeking out, and one white pump also stained with mud. Marianna waddles around, clutching a broken champagne bottle in her left hand and a cellphone in her right one. She pretends to try and talk with someone on the phone, but there’s no service, so she angrily throws the phone on the ground and stomps on it. Then she tries to take a swig out of the bottle, notices it’s actually broken and throws it on the ground as well. She abruptly stops before dropping the bottle though and stares at the night sky. She points at it (a fake nail falls off her hand as she does) and turns to run away as someone (actually lighting crew) shines a green light down on her. Marianna runs into the barn and the camera takes a wide shot of a (cgi) ufo flying down, abducting Marianna through the green beam shining down on the roof… and then places someone else in.
The camera zooms in on… Marianna again? She walks out wearing a gorgeous body-hugging low-cut turquoise mermaid dress with black fringe on the bottom and a silver metallic tutu on her hips. Her entire upper half is painted white. Her mug looks almost like porcelain, and she has blue and orange contacts in her eyes giving her a heterochromic effect as well as matching eyeshadow – although it matches the other eye and tons of silvery rhinestones in ornate patterns all over her face and upper half of her body. She also has several silvery horns at the top of her head giving her an illusion of a crown. She also has long fake silver nails, and a turquoise cape matching her dress with huge lapels in the back. The most interesting part of her look though is a space helmet on her head the bottom of which goes into an ornate silver necklace with tons of (fake) gems.
Marianna walks around as if she were a tourist visiting a big city. She tries to retain some grace fitting of an alien princess, but can’t help but run up to look at wild flowers and growing wheat. She spins around and then takes off the helmet and takes a deep breath. She gives the camera a wide smile and then coughs. Some murky green liquid comes out and she coughs some more and then collapses on the ground, dead. The camera pans into her unmoving face and catches a shot of a cellphone suddenly going to full-bar connection.
The queens can be seen in unison, sitting on two benches in front of Anastasia, who has two torches besides her. The midnight sky frowns upon the girls, but Anastasia is all smiles from the queens performances.
”My girls, all of you did well in some way or another. This week however, as a warning, length does not mean more chance of a win, so disagree with my choices, then please do not say that you thought you were robbed because you wrote lots. Annie, Casta, Angelique, Marianna, Kornucopia and Bianca, you represent the bottoms and tops of the week. That means Christina and Euthanasia, you were very close to the top, but you are safe.”
They nod, leaving the benches.
Annie, For your girl look, you began describing an amazing look but didnt go into as much detail as you could’ve, I wanted to know more about this wonderful dress instead of it just being about certain details, like the embellished capital A and so forth. A critique to you would to focus on smaller details and emphasise on it as a whole, not just what paints a clear picture in my head. Your alien look was better, I really liked it, but I think less images and a bit more description would have done a greater submission.
Bianca, I really liked your outfit, and the attitude your girl character clearly had. The outfit was amazing and was described in immense detail, for both looks. My critique for you would be that I would’ve like to see where the consistency between your Girl and your Alien was. I was looking at a preppy, Paris H like girl and then this alien comes in that’s amazing but there was not many links.
Marianna, I enjoyed your submission but it also confused me. At first, I thought you had only sent in your girl look, and then I realised your alien one was there but you took the risk of not changing It completly. I liked some of it, but most parts I think didn’t read alien as such and that you relied too much on the storyline side of things for me to understand how it happened why the alien looks like that.
Angelique, I loved this so much. You went so filthy and somehow you made me laugh, but enjoy this filthy, dirty ride you took me on with your alien. Your girl look was so perfect it was a joke, a little more detail could’ve done but it was so concise and explicit that you didn't need it much. I loved the interactions with the environment.
Casta, no submission?
Kornucopia, I really liked your look and it was similar to Bianca's with the storyline and actions you took, I don’t mean the ideas were I just mean the way you formatted it was. Also yet again, I prefered your alien look more to your girl look, so my only critique was to see more of a balance.
”I’ve made my decision. Marianna, Casta and Annie, with regret, you’re the bottoms of the week. Angelique, your floor show grasped me in the wrong ways, but made me enjoy the filthy alien concept that you had. Your girl look slayed, and everything was concise. Condragulations, you’re a winner baby!”
All the girls clap.
”That means Bianca and Kornucopia, you are safe. Good job. For my bottoms though, you’re extermination is that way…”
ELIMINATION RESULTS NEXT EPISODE. This was a really hard episode to judge, and if you disagree please make sure to tell me. Good job Angelique, good luck bottoms!

“Someone died in your house once,” said Fox’s sister Nami as she made them turkey-and-tomato sandwiches.
Evan Matthew looked up from the notebook he was diligently writing the day’s findings in. “Really?”
“Well, not in the house.” Nami’s knife slid through the tomato’s red flesh; she peeled off the thin sliver and laid it gently on top of the turkey, which actually kind of looked like the deli sort that Evan Matthew preferred back in the city—just thicker. “On the property. The lake, at the bottom of the hill.”
“…How?” The attempt at drawing the bug they’d found was abandoned. Dead people were way more interesting. Sitting beside him, Fox scoffed.
“No one died there, Nami.”
“That’s what Mom and Dad told you, ‘cause you were too young. But it did happen.” Nami had sparkly green fingernails, like the girls in Evan Matthew’s class back in the city, and they glittered as she laid down another slice of tomato. “Janice Evers drowned in the lake. It was in the city paper and everything, ‘cause she was with Lucas Lockheart, and they never found his body.”
Evan Matthew’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “How?”
“Nami’s bein’ dumb, don’t listen to her,” said Fox. Evan Matthew barely heard them.
“I mean, we don’t all the way know.” Nami’s knife rocked back-and-forth, slicing through the sandwich layers. She pushed the plates across the counter before cutting hers again, for four triangles. “Maybe I shouldn’t say. You’re, what, eight?”
“I’m twelve!”
“You look eight. And I’m not supposed to say around Fox.”
“I am not listening and do not care,” Fox announced.
“Alright. Fine, whatever.” Nami leaned on the counter. “The Lockhearts lived there before you did—like, ten years ago. I think they lived here before the village was founded, even. But ten years ago it was Mr. and Mrs. Lockheart and their son, Lucas. He was, like, fourteen at the time. And you’ve been down to the lake, right?”
Evan Matthew had, in fact, been down to the lake. The bottom of the hill behind his new house was even muggier than the rest of the town, a perfect habitat for frogs and mosquitoes, and housed an ancient sinkhole that had long filled with water from some deep underground well. He’d been down a few times to catch samples, but Agatha had forbidden him from swimming. At first, he was disappointed—the heat was overwhelming—but as soon as he’d seen the cold, dark water, he’d lost all interest in going anywhere near that. Not even a lack of algae on the glassy surface tempted him.
Once Evan Matthew had read a Time article about a river in South America that was so deep, no one had successfully reached the bottom and the bodies of divers were never recovered. In his head, under the black of the lake sat skeletons, the maw of a pit to the center of the earth. “Yeah. I’ve been down to the lake.”
“Right, so you know what it’s like. Dunno how or why, but Lucas really loved swimming in the pond. Can’t imagine why. He was a strong swimmer, too, which is why—well, no one expected him to drown.” Nami spoke around a mouthful of sandwich. “He was nice. I remember, he was nice. I was just six, but he always offered to help me out with my homework, and Mom wanted him to teach me how to swim—but I didn’t like the lake, so I kept pretending I was sick. Maybe she would have made me eventually, if Janice hadn’t died, but she did. And even more than that, Lucas was teaching her to swim—which put Mom off swimming lessons forever, and I still don’t know.”
“How did she die, though?” Evan Matthew demanded. The sandwich was ignored. Even Fox, ever apathetic, seemed somewhat interested.
“Well, I don’t know. No one knows. Lucas went down to swim with Janice and he didn’t come back.” Nami inspected a sandwich quarter, holding it delicately between two glitter-green fingertips. “Janice’s little sister went to get her from the Lockheart’s, and Ms. Lockheart went down to get them and came back screaming. Pretty soon the whole town was down at the Lockheart place. I was supposed to be watching Fox, but they were taking their nap and I was curious and I went down and got there just as the police from the city showed up, with an ambulance and the coroner. I remember I’d never met a coroner or seen an ambulance before. I was excited.”
“And she was dead?”
“Yeah. I saw the body under a sheet. I asked Marlene Fairsworth’s son, after, because he said he’d seen it, all bloated and white and gross.” Nami shrugged. “I think he might’ve been lying about seeing it, but that’s what it would have looked like.”
“But Lucas went missing?” Fox asked. Nami didn’t seem surprised or bothered that they had stopped pretending not to listen.
“Well, when they realized that Lucas wasn’t around, they sent out search parties to the forest. Marlene Fairsworth’s son said that he saw him going into the woods, but he’s always been full of shit.”
“Don’t say shit,” said Evan Matthew automatically. “Did they ever find him?”
“Nope.” Nami was on her last sandwich triangle. “Searched the entire woods, sent someone a few feet under the surface of the water. Eventually they ruled that he’d gotten stuck somewhere in the lake and it was too dangerous to retrieve his body—there’s a whole cave system a ways down, you know, they never explored it. They buried an empty coffin, for ceremony I guess. The Lockhearts moved out a month later and no one’s been in the house since then. Not until you. That’s sort of just the village though, I think. We don’t get new folks too often—and no one already here wanted to move down the street, much less into that house.” Nami took her plate and dumped it in the sink. “Eat your sandwiches.”
Evan Matthew ate his sandwich. Fox plucked out the turkey and devoured it straight from their fingers, which made Nami frown, but say nothing.
-O-
“Someone died in this house once,” Evan Matthew announced over dinner. It startled Agatha. Her wide eyes became even wider, full of concern and motherly things.
“Did Fox tell you that?” Eden asked. Eden wasn’t any more engaged than she ever was, which was kind of annoying—Evan Matthew had just told her about a *dead person. Maybe he could set a fire and find out what it looked like when Eden paid attention.
“No, their sister did. Nami. Two kids named Lucas and Janice drowned in the lake.”
“Oh.” Agatha’s face was unreadable. “The real estate agent didn’t tell us that.”
“Does it matter?” Eden asked.
Lucas Lockheart had a mother and a father, a nuclear family in a house that was, at the time, probably very nice. Evan Matthew moved into an abandoned farmhouse with Agatha, who tried to be his mother, and Eden, who didn’t try to be much of anything at all.
Agatha pointed to the spinach on Evan Matthew’s plate. “Eat your greens, Evan. Marlene gave them to us.”
Evan Matthew poked at the slimy mass with his fork and made a disgusted face. Eden chuckled slightly. “The kid knows what he likes.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Course you’re not.”
He pushed back his chair and grabbed his plate. “I’m going to go do my makeup work. Cause you have to do that, when people move you to another school.”
“Evan—“
“I’ll be upstairs, okay?”
Agatha didn’t try to stop him again, though he almost felt a little bad about the dejected look on her face. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault she was kind of awful at being a mom. But then, it was sort of her fault for trying.
Evan Matthew made his way up the two flights of stairs and shut the door to his bedroom. Even the attic of the farmhouse wasn’t as high up as his bedroom back in the townhouse in the city. The townhouse had been four stories high; he’d kept his experiments in the basement, and had to throw them all out when Agatha announced, very suddenly, that they were moving.
The night that she declared at dinner that they would be leaving in a week, Eden had stared at her, then told Evan Matthew to go clean his room. He’d stormed upstairs, then very quietly snuck back down to the landing to listen in.
“It’s not a commune.” Agatha was annoyingly patient, even with Eden. “They don’t share income. It’s a self-sus—“
“A self-sustaining ecovillage. You mentioned. It sounds a lot like a commune.”
“It’s not a commune!”
“Right. So—what? We’re just going to take Evan Matthew out of school? We quit our jobs? Did you even think about this?”
“I gave it a lot of thought, Eden. We’ve got someone new coming in—“
“Oh. Oh. I see—another stray. So you’re ignoring your family and uprooting our lives to move to some hippie commune for another wayward soul—“
“You were one of them too, once. Or don’t you remember?”
Silence. “Of course I remember. But we stayed. We’re your family, Aggie. Shouldn’t the life we’ve built be important, too?”
“It is important. My work—“
“Your work? You’re a damn florist. It isn’t your job to save everybody!”
“Well, you sure seemed happy when I saved you!”
The silence was something smothering and deadly. Evan Matthew heard the harsh scrape of a chair on the linoleum floor. “I’ll get packing, then.”
He hadn’t gotten up fast enough, and Eden found him on the steps looking like a deer in headlights. She said nothing. Just picked him up and carried him upstairs.
His new bedroom was smaller than his old one, but not by much; a slanted roof had the closet built into one end, and a large semicircular window opposite the door. The furniture had been there already when they got there, an old wood bedframe, a decent-looking mattress—though Eden had taken one look at it and announced that they were getting a new one next time they went into the city—a desk, a dresser. And in the bottom drawer of the desk, a few artifacts. A faded polaroid of a boy a little older than Evan Matthew, with longish, blond-ish hair tied back into a ponytail and a morose looking face, standing under a familiar tree next to a familiar pond wearing a pair of swim trunks. Draped over the closest tree branch was a pair of shorts and a flannel checked shirt. Even in the picture, with dots of white and the desaturated color, the lake was inky black and forbidding; Evan Matthew shivered a little just to look at it. There was a copy of The Haunting of Hill House, dusty and yellowed. There was a set of cracked pencils.
This, then, was Lucas Lockheart’s room.
Evan Matthew took the polaroid out from the drawer and stared at it, trying to get into the mind of Lucas Lockheart. Lucas, of course, said nothing—just stared back at Evan with blank blue eyes. A lock of pale hair fell into his face, his pasty skin. He looked, well, dead—even as Evan knew the picture was certainly taken while he was alive.
He put the photograph back into the desk drawer.
-O-
“Our guest is arriving today,” Agatha told them over breakfast. “Evan, you may still go to play with Fox, just try to be back before sundown to meet him before dinner, alright?”
It was raining lightly, so Evan Matthew tugged on black boots with thick orange soles and a raincoat that looked like the TARDIS and went out to the back garden.
He’d expected to have to seek out Fox. This was not the case; they were in the woods behind the house, leaning on the back gate. “Hey!”
“Hey,” said Evan Matthew, unlatching the back gate and slipping through. “How’d you know I would be here?”
“Oh, I didn’t.” Fox jumped up and down, a bucket swinging on their arm. “Wanna go treasure hunting?”
“Can I take soil samples?”
“Sure.” “Then yeah.”
Fox cheered. “C’mon! Rain days are the best for treasure hunting.”
They set off into the woods. “What kind of treasures are we looking for?”
“All kinds.” Fox scanned the ground as they walked, holding the bucket with both hands behind their back. It swung around their legs, leaving small damp spots on their leggings. Their rain boots were shaped like bug-eyed frogs. “Like that.”
Fox darted to the side abruptly, vaulting over a log with the bucket swinging, and dug something from the dirt. Evan Matthew had to wonder how they’d seen anything in the mud, let alone the tiny glint he could spot under their fingers, but after a second Fox pulled out a large shard of glass, smoothed at the edges and mud-splattered, ridged slightly. They crowed and dropped it into the bucket. “See?”
“Oh.” Evan Matthew looked around and picked up an interestingly shaped leaf. “Like this?”
“That’s not treasure.” Fox’s expression seemed to finish the phrase with you dumbass. “That’s a leaf.”
“Oh.” He rolled up the leaf and stuck it in one of the sample tubes from his backpack. “Maybe it’s a science leaf.”
“Don’t go sciencin’ my treasures.” Fox swung the bucket at their side, balancing on one foot atop a rotten log.
“You don’t science treasures. You science nature and bugs.”
“Bugs are cool. One time I found a ca-rah-pace of a beetle. It had the rainbow in it.”
“Iridescent.”
“Yeah—that.” Fox uncovered a tin chesspiece from inside the bag. “Hey, cool. I find these sometimes. I guess someone used to play.” They rubbed the muck off with their sleeve and peered at it. “Oh, hella! It’s the queen!”
“What pieces do you have?”
“Two of the silver pawns, a black bishop and a knight, four black pawns, and the silver king. Now we have the black queen to oppose him.”
“Think you’ll ever find them all?”
“I hope so.” Fox placed the queen in the bucket, rather more carefully than the shard of glass. “Storms uncover them, sometimes. Older treasures. They get dug up by the wind and rain. Look, a squirrel!”
Evan Matthew followed Fox and the squirrel deeper still into the woods. When they lost interest in tormenting the wildlife, Fox moved on to terrorizing a plethora of bugs living under a log. Evan Matthew pulled out a jar with holes in the lid from his backpack and collected a large beetle from the scurrying mass.
They hopped a creek and Fox found an old but intact Bicycle playing card (the two of diamonds), a tarnished ring with a red stone, and a few links off some kind of chain. Something caught their eye deeper in and they went still. “Whassat?”
“What’s what?” Evan Matthew turned to look where Fox was pointing.
“There.” They pointed harder, jabbing their finger in mock accusation at a prickly bush.
“That’s a blackberry bush.”
“Noooo. On it.” Fox made their way over, more careful now with their half-full treasure bucket. They grabbed a stick with a small fork at the end and pulled aside some brambles with a gloved hand. In went the stick, fishing around for whatever they’d seen.
Evan Matthew just stared. Fox dug in further. “A-ha!” They pulled the stick back out. On the end was something cloth, with sticky brown stains. Fox waved it on the end of the stick like a flag and stomped back over to Evan Matthew.
The kids crouched in the dirt, studying Fox’s find. “What’s on it?” they asked, waving the stick slightly.
Evan Matthew poked at it. “Dunno.”
Fox shook it out and spread it out in the dirt. “Oh. A jacket.”
It was a jacket. A plaid jacket, to be precise, stained with dirt and other unknown substances. One sleeve was torn off at the elbow.
Fox picked it back up and tossed it at Evan Matthew.
“Fox, that’s gross.”
“You have worms in your backpack, that’s what’s gross.”
-O-
Evan Matthew managed to get home before the deadline, if only barely. Agatha was putting the finishing touches on a roasted chicken. “There you are. Did you have fun?”
“Mmhm.” Evan Matthew hung his raincoat by the door and kicked off the boots. “Is the new guy here?”
“He is, and he’s looking forward to meeting you.” Agatha poked her head around the corner and called up the staircase. “Rafael! Come meet Evan!”
The hairs on the back of Evan Matthew’s neck stood up as down the stairs came a lanky, pale figure in a plaid jacket and no shoes. Evan Matthew stared at his bare feet for a moment, then slowly let his eyes move upward to see the rest of the new guest. Evan Matthew’s brown eyes met pale blue, partially obscured by a lock of dingy, dirty-blond hair.
“Oh,” said the man, his gaze falling on the plaid garment hanging over Evan’s arm. “You found my jacket.”

Lorelai - Part 1
Lorelai - Part 2
Lorelai - Part 3
Grey emptiness. It gets lonesome in the dark. In the blackness, with Lorelai. She watches me, hovers around me. She is everywhere. She is nowhere. Every night, she has grown with more power. She controls me. I am paralyzed, alone, empty and forgotten. Huxley no longer contains the excitement of my imagination. It is now filled with my hatred and resentment of all things Lorelai. This is her place now. The new leader, the queen of Huxley, the dictator, the ruler… a malevolent goddess. I am under her thumb. Pressed. Crushed. My bones breaking. My heart aching for anything, for life, for Eva.
She reached into my inner psyche and pulled out the things I feared the most – my nightmares. My family, stretched, pulled apart, into pieces. My limbs, crushed under the weight of darkness. Spiders winding their webs to entangle me as insects feasted on my lips, my nose, my eyelids. Maggots quickly forming over my rotting wounds, finding life in the wreckage of my skin. I watched Eva perpetually fall to her death – never able to catch her. Physically, psychologically, emotionally; Lorelai was consuming me in every possible way.
“Stop, please, I can’t take it anymore,” I screamed out in agony.
Lorelai produced an evil grin, and with a wipe of her arms Huxley went back to nothingness. I was at the center of it, curled into a foetal position. She stood, floating above me. Her head tilted as she watched me with curiosity.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I cried out. “What have I done?!”
“Look,” she whispered.
“No!” I tried to defy her.
“Look!” she said once more, and pointed.
There, in a tiny blur that inched closer and closer into focus, was a man in a black trench coat.
“Who is he?” I shouted.
As he became closer, there was a colourful aura that produced behind him. It grew like smoke from a choked off fire. It enveloped him, like a cloud made of apparitions. With each step toward me, the aura grew thicker and much more vibrant. Reds and oranges swirled into crimson. And soon, I recognized him. The driver.
“Why did you bring him here? What does he want?”
The driver drew closer to me, pointing at me, reaching toward me. All I could do was curl into myself further and prepare for the oncoming collision with the suspicious watcher. Lorelai let out a blood-curdling scream. His hand embraced my shoulder and shook at me.
“Son? Son?” his arm shoved me to consciousness.
I looked around, confused, and found myself in the comfort of my sheets. Above me, my father was leaning over, staring down, concerned.
“Breakfast,” he said.
I was free. Free from the grasp of the driver. Free from the deranged offerings of Lorelai. I stumbled out of bed, collected a pair of sweat pants, and made my way to the kitchen.
The regular routine was cereal and milk. If I wanted to stray from it, perhaps oatmeal would suffice, or toast, but my mother would always suggest that the morning must start with milk. “Healthy for you,” she had often said, followed by the encouragement of stronger bones and muscle promotions. I hated the taste. I would get annoyed when schools made them the only offering during snack times or lunch time promotional drinks. It’s always milk. It’s never juice. My tongue longed for something acidic, anything citrus – anything bitter and sweet.
“Can I borrow the car tonight?” I asked.
My parents exchanged glances at each other. It had been a few months since I had received my full license, and I wanted an opportunity to experience the freedom that the privilege of driving could offer.
“What are you planning to do?” my mother asked.
“I just want to take Eva out,” I said. “Without having my mom drive us to our date.”
“That sounds cute,” she said and patted my left shoulder before eyeing my father. “Doesn’t that sound cute?”
My father didn’t answer. He only continued to cut through his eggs with a fork and knife, scoff it down his throat, and chase it with a big gulp of milk. To say he was a quiet man would be an understatement. He kept to himself as long as the household kept the peace. As far as he was concerned, his job started and ended when he punched in on the clock for his job as a manager for the local factory. I never specifically knew what he made there, but his answer, when I had asked, was “everything.”
That night, when the ignition turned on the car, and the engine roared, a smile appeared on my face. I was comfortable and excited to be out on my own doing the things I wanted to do. It was similar to the feeling I got when I practiced lucid dreaming – long before Lorelai. I had control. I had power. I had a car.
I arrived at Eva’s house, and before I could get out and play the chivalrous boyfriend, she was already on her way to the car. She crept along the side of her house and quickly jumped in the passenger side.
“Welcome to the love machine,” I said and immediately regretted the words.
“Just drive,” she said, obviously disliking the direction I had moved the conversation.
I drove off as she requested, but she turned to look back at her house. When it was out of view, she relaxed into her seat and began fiddling with the radio knob.
“I have a sleeve of cds in here if you want to find something to put on,” I said.
Eva ignored me and continued cycling through the radio signals.
“Just keep driving,” she said and continued rolling through the scrambled feeds.
The last week of classes, every time I saw Eva, she was carrying her red and white plaid school bag with her. She ignored requests by our teacher to keep her bag in her locker, but she held it close. One part of her body kept in contact with it at all times. And here, on our date, she brought it with her.
“What’s with the bag?” I asked and nodded at the sack at her feet.
Eva dodged the question.
“Did you hear that,” she asked.
I shook my head no.
“Dammit,” she added.
“You were outside my house the other night,” I informed her.
“Uh huh,” she said. She acted as if she were annoyed that I even bothered to talk to her.
“I found you in the street,” I explained. “You were in your pyajamas.”
“You sure that wasn’t a dream?” she said, keeping her eyes on the radio. “You said you had vivid dreams.”
“You seemed wide awake to me,” I replied. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but you freaked me out a bit.”
“Sorry,” she said matter of factly. “Wait…”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she was blunt, and frustrated by the radio.
“Eva, I know you. I can tell when something is wrong.”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong,” she said. “Everything is just… weird.”
“You’re telling me,” I said of her attitude.
“I’m just… confused, okay?” she returned. “Everything is confusing. I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Because of the radio?” I asked.
“No.”
“Because of Lorelai?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Because of the photos,” she said.
“What photos?”
Eva scrambled through her school bag and pulled out a discoloured envelope. Inside, she retrieved pictures. They were bordered with identification information of the child in the photograph. After a few glances while I tried my best to balance my concentration between the pictures and the road in front of me, my brain clicked.
“That looks like… you,” I said. “What is it?”
“I found it in my parents’ room,” she said. “Lorelai told me where to look. And I found it. Underneath their bed, in a small box. There was a bag, too. It had a few of my baby teeth in it wrapped up in clumps of old hair and a green cloth.”
“That’s a weird collection,” I said.
“Weird? It’s fucked up,” she corrected me. “The hair wasn’t mine. It was blonde. I’m a natural brunette. My parents are brunettes. I don’t know where the hell that hair came from. It’s fucked up.”
She was right. It was fucked up.
“Maybe, it wasn’t your teeth?” I reasoned.
“The bag had my initials on it,” she said.
She flipped to a few more photographs. The date of birth was the same year as ours. Despite being pictures of children, I saw familiarity in the faces. Eva. Anastasia. Caleb. Hector. And finally, one that made my stomach turn. The same sensation I had when I saw the green threads in the cave, in Huxley.
“It’s you,” she said.
I knew it was. I could see it in the eyes.
“David Danielson,” she read from the name on the top of the page. “Age sixteen months. Brown hair, brown eyes.” She looked at me with worrisome eyes. “Your parents changed your name.”
It couldn’t be true. It had to be some kind of elaborate joke. But these weren’t pictures dropped on Eva’s doorstep to scare her. These were items she had found when she went snooping through her home.
“What do you mean, Lorelai told you about these?” I asked.
“She came to me in a dream,” Eva said. “She told me you weren’t listening to her. That she needed someone to pay attention.”
“Pay attention to what?” I asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look around you,” Eva said. “Look where we are right now. No signs. No speed limits. No radio stations.”
“We’re just outside of town,” I said.
“Keep driving.”
Eva went back to riding in the passenger seat in silence, and I drove the main road out to the countryside. After twenty minutes, we had passed the turn for where my parents had taken me camping when I was younger. Then, a lake with a boat launch was on our right. Another fifteen minutes down the road and I became impatient.
“Let’s just turn back,” I said. “It’s going to get too late. Your parents will hate me more than they already do.”
“Keep driving,” she repeated. “Don’t stop until you can’t go any further.”
“We’re on a highway,” I said. “They don’t just stop.”
Just then, the asphalt stopped. It slowly turned into a gravel roadway. I slowed down the car to maintain comfortable traction. It was the furthest I had ever traveled away from town. I caught Eva eyeing me from the passenger side.
“Just a bit further,” she said.
She was right. Soon, the gravel road thinned from its two-lane wide build to a single lane. After a few more minutes of driving, that too became narrowed as the trees from the side of the road began to eat away at what was left of the path to travel. I was forced to stop the car. A few feet away, a metal gate prevented further access.
“What the hell?” I said and exited the car.
I kept the headlights on, and examined the padlock that kept the gate shut. I threw my hands up in the air and looked back to the car where Eva sat patiently. She knew I had to figure it out for myself. I looked around and expected Lorelai to appear and for this to be revealed as an elaborate, and very real feeling dream, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Alright, be direct with me,” I said to Eva as I sat back down in the driver’s seat. “What the fuck is going on?”
“You took the aptitude test?” she asked. I nodded. “And what did it say you should do?”
“It said I should be in engineering,” I replied.
“And did you get a letter in the mail? Maybe, some company that might hire you when you graduate?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “The factory. I figured my dad just had connections and put a word in for me or something.”
“I talked to everyone in that class,” she said. “I asked them all what job it said they should work. I wrote them all down.”
Eva retrieved a small notepad from her school bag. She flipped through a few pages and read them off to me.
“Anastasia – doctor. Hector – electrician. Caleb – water treatment. There’s farming and agriculture, police, firemen, you name it.”
“So what?” I asked.
“We’ve all been brought here,” she said. “Now, we’re old enough to contribute to the town. The aptitude test is fake! It was designed to make us all think these are the things we should be doing, but it’s just the jobs the town needs occupied by us when we graduate.”
“What about college?” I asked. “Some will get accepted and leave.”
“And go where?” she countered. “You’re seeing it for yourself. Wake up! You can’t leave. They won’t let us leave. And how do we send out college applications? Through the school. Who runs this school? The town. Those applications aren’t going anywhere. You need an education for the job your aptitude test said you should do? You get the training at our community college. It’s a giant spider-web and we’re all insects caught in it.”
“None of this makes any sense,” I said. “Everyone in this town would have to be in on it.”
“Not everyone,” Eva said. “But a lot of them. There’s a tattoo. If they share the tattoo, they’re on the council. Others aren’t on it, but still follow it and live it. The ones that try and fight their way out are tracked down and eliminated.”
“How do you know all of this?” I asked. I was sure that Eva had lost her mind.
“I already told you,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure this out for months, and it finally makes sense. She showed me. I saw my father’s tattoo. How many people have you talked to about Lorelai?”
“No one,” I said, as I thought about it. “You were the one that mentioned her to me.”
“Right,” she said. “And I’m a few months older than you. Then, you saw her. Everyone sees her. But no one talks about her. They think she’s a ghost until she starts talking. Trust me, she’s not a ghost. She’s… something else. Everyone here is trapped underneath what she demands. Then, when we get older, she will force us to do what our parents did. Go out, kidnap a child and bring them back here. Ask Lorelai. She’ll tell you everything.”
I took Eva by the hand.
“Let’s just run away and get out, leave all of this,” I said.
“We can’t,” she said and pulled her hand away from mine. “The ones that try and get away… she sends people after them. The red ones.”
“The driver,” I said. “Anastasia must know about all of this. She told me to run.”
“She’s wrong,” Eva said. “There is no running away. There’s nowhere to go. As soon as you sleep, she’ll walk you right back here.”
“She can’t control me when I’m awake,” I countered.
“She hasn’t had a reason to,” Eva said. “You’re not listening to her. She wants you to listen. She’ll make you listen.”
I thought of Lorelai constantly pointing to things for me to look at. I did everything I could to ignore her and stay away. And then Eva arrived at my window in the night. She didn’t remember any of it. It was clear to me. Lorelai sent her to me. She knew I would listen to Eva; knew that I couldn’t ignore her. She was right.
I had accepted everything Eva told me. I was ready to listen. I wanted to understand all of it. I needed to know what was next for me – what did Lorelai want with me?
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Eva reached over and turned off the ignition on the car before she leaned back in her seat. She placed her hand on mine and closed her eyes.
“Sleep.”
Lorelai - Part 5 - Final