《Plaything》


 Up in the Rafters

    Gather round, friends, and I''ll tell you a story


    A story of terror in all of its glory


    Of a sentry, a savior, and the darkness of night


    Against madness itself, they will have to fight


    This is the tale of a lonely puppeteer


    Of what makes you human, of what makes you fear


    So take a seat, friend, and do listen well


    We''re taking a trip to the circus of hell


    ...


    The sounds of an off-tuned calliope bring an artificial freshness to the stale air of the big top. Swirling stripes of black and green drape around the dusty grove of the stage below. The luminescent glow of a thousand fireflies illuminates the stage in hues of orange and red. The light did not dare to cross into the stands. It was as if something, or perhaps someone, compelled them to hold back. Still they loomed over the stage, awaiting the arrival of their leader.


    From the darkness of backstage emerges the figure of something almost human. The Ringmaster struts to the center of the stage, surrounded by the buzzing swarm of light. He lifts up his four arms to greet the stands. The music grows into something not unlike a frenzy, then dies away as his voice rings through the hollow tent.


    "Ladies and germs and all other worms," He begins, "Welcome to the grandest illusion in the world!"


    Perched high above the stage in the darkness of the rafters is the Puppeteer. It sits patiently on a little plank, clutching the straps of its satchel with steady hands. The Ringmaster''s voice is merely an echo from here, as is what it believes to be the applause of the audience below. It doubts anyone can hear its trek to the puppet stage from down there, but it was never one to take chances. So it waits for the Ringmaster to begin the show.


    The rafters holding the tent are rotted. Even sitting still on the last stable support sends the structure rocking and creaking. From the safety of the plank, the structure became a labyrinth of unseen danger. To the nimble Puppeteer, the trek comes like second nature. A jump over one gap. A tip-toe across a plank. A swing around a support beam to make a turn to the next plank. A swift game of limbo, and finally the safety of the upper stage. One slip meant a grand fall, but what was the threat of death to a dead man?


    The Puppeteer finds itself at its platform. It takes its satchel off of its chest and opens the bag to unload its puppets. What has it tonight? From the looks of things, a taxidermized chameleon, a stuffed rabbit (really, two stuffed rabbits sewn into one), a well-loved stuffed leopard, a bone china lamb with red wool, and a moth lovingly stitched from badding and tulle. Odd, sure, but nothing not worth working with. It looks over to its bin of props and unfolds a hand painted background. A battlefield, fading into dark woods. It puts the painting down on the platform and picks up another. The woods again, now fading to a sunny town. It picks up another: the same town, fading to a river with a wishing well. The last one it finds is that clearing, fading to a cloudy sky. At least they all trailed along together. And hey, that''s a story.


    It lifts up a sort of reel from below the platform and attaches each scene to a segment on a long, treaded tire. When each painting is attached, it gives the machine a test spin with its rotted hands. The scenes spin around the treads with mechanical groans, stopping front and center with a sharp click. Success! It lowers the scene changing machine back below the platform, the war field showing in front.


    One down, one to go.


    Next, it picks up each puppet and meticulously ties little red strings to each one''s arms and throat. It tries to ignore the sensation of strings looping around its own arms. With each knot tied, it secures the strings to a metal rod. The rod is just to keep all the puppets in place. That, and so it can keep everything under control without using its hands. Or at least, not holding their strings in its hands. Right to the side of the rod is an old toy piano, haphazardly fitted with bells, whistles, and all sorts of other percussion. The piano still played its keys as normal, but with a quick press of a button or flick of a switch, the other instruments would sing their songs. It tests a few keys to make sure the machine still plays, then lets a foul note slide from its fingertips. The puppets writhe on their strings, prime for reanimating. The Puppeteer grins, letting a small giggle escape from between its sharp teeth.


    All is to plan thus far, It thinks, Now, for the fun part.


    The Puppeteer cracks its knuckles and bangs on the keys. The puppets go flying back over the rod as if shot by an explosion, landing comfortably in a pile of old pillows. The Puppeteer hops back, picking up each puppet and returning them to their hung position over the rod. All that was left to do now was wait.


    No, not yet. What else? I know there¡¯s something else.


    Its voice is barely a whisper. ¡°Oh.¡±


    It turns its gaze across the platform. By the light of a lone firefly, it stares at the hazy silhouette in the darkness.


    ¡°The noose.¡±


    The Puppeteer hates the noose. As the grand finale of the show, it hangs itself. It''s not like it''d ever die from it, but certainly the pain of having a piano wire dig into the rotted flesh of its neck made it wish it would. Getting it wedged in was only half the story, getting it out was worse. But that¡¯s a later problem, tying it is a now problem. Besides, it was for the show. And although that never is a comfort to the Puppeteer, it sure made a good excuse.


    It reaches up over the faded X on the platform and pulls down a rust-stained wire. It gently puts the loop over its head, flipping its hair out from around the knot. It unties its scarf and tosses it by the satchel. Breathing isn''t coming easy anymore. It plucks silently at its piano in the hopes its breath comes back.


    Whether the tickling death around its throat made the wait shorter or longer is a mystery. Either way, the wait is much too long. It clicks away at the keys, playing melodies of songs it once knew. It wishes it could sing from here without anyone hearing. Sometimes it likes to imagine having the stage all to itself. Not to lead, no, no, not that. But to sing and to dance and to live without worry of any nooses or puppets or the sharp eyes of the--


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    It snaps from its daydream. The Ringmaster''s voice rises from below.


    "It appears we have reached the end of our show, but there''s one last act before you all go. A puppet show, by our dearest cadaver. What will its tale be? What will you gather?"


    That''s its queue. It flicks on its piano and clears its throat. The puppets lower onto the stage. It plays a small intro as the lights dim, a single spotlight on the puppet''s stage. At once, it begins its tale.


    "Five little adventures on their way to play a game,"


    The puppets happily bounce on their stage. A faint glimmer of life mirages over the scene, painting colors of motion over the limbs of the toys. Even the chameleon''s rigor mortis doesn''t stop it from dancing with its companions.


    "One was lost in war,"


    The Puppeteer bangs on the piano, and at once a shrill silence descends over the stage. The chameleon launches itself out of the stage and into the pillows. The illusion of life vanishes from the others.


    "And then there were four."


    It plays a jaunty little tune in a minor key, the bells and whistles joining in. The puppets return to life, albeit a little more frightened. It steps on a pedal, and the scene changes from the war to the forest.


    "Four little adventurers playing in the woods,"


    The puppets spin around in a sort of ring-a-ring-o-roses as it plays a happier tune. The ones who had hands seemed to hold them with the others. Some hope returns to the remaining puppets, and the rabbit twins begin to jump with the same joy as in the war.


    "One got lost,"


    The Puppeteer bangs on the piano again, a horrible, shrill glissando throwing the rabbit back up to its platform.


    "And then there were three."


    Now, the leopard, lamb, and moth remain. They find their way out of the forest into the town to the sound of a somewhat degraded melody. Now, their life has nearly vanished from their eyes and limbs. It is almost as if they know the melody that¡¯s coming for them in the rafters above.


    "Three little adventurers going for a bite,"


    Now, the ringing of the bells conjures the hazy sight of food in the hands of the puppets, and the smell of freshly baked bread in the stands of the audience. For a moment, everything seems alright.


    "One got poisoned,"


    The illusion is shattered with the banging and the loss of the leopard.


    "And then there were two."


    The Puppeteer feels the noose around its throat as it moves to the next scene. Its playing grows ever so slightly more nervous, more frantic, as the lamb and the moth bounce around erratically in their stage set by the well. The noose tightens.


    "Two little adventurers getting water by the well,"


    The clinking of higher keys and wind chimes makes it seem as though the water of the painted river is moving. Not like water, though. It flows much too viscously to be water. The moth stays by the river, but the lamb looks down the well.


    "One fell into wonderland,"


    The lamb shoots down into the well, then back up into the stage again. The shrill glissando is much more violent than the banging and clanging which came before it.


    "And then there was one."


    The Puppeteer walks over to the X with the solemnness of a soldier marching to war. With the remaining fingers of its right hand, it plucks away at the growling keys of its toy piano. Now, the melody hardly exists at all. But what does exist is a sort of resignation. A lonely, broken resignation.


    The moth sits alone in the clearing.


    "One little adventurer sitting all alone."


    The trapdoor starts to creek below it. It takes a deep breath, and with a hard jolt the trapdoor gives way.


    As it dangles over the stage, it looks out to the audience so the spotlight isn¡¯t as blinding. It always seems as though there never is an audience in those seats. It¡¯s never able to shake the feeling, that sort of loneliness from staring into the fogginess of the stands below. Something about the never-blinking eyes and the never breaking stares make its skin crawl in a way no rusted scalpel or crooked needle-toothed smile ever could. As it stares into the abyss below in strained silence, it can¡¯t help but wonder: from its mind or the Ringmaster¡¯s? Better yet: does it matter?


    "What more can I say?" It giggles, conveniently hiding its own choking. "And then there were none."


    The muffled sound of applause overtakes the big top as it gives a little show of splendor. As the light clicks out, it pulls itself up by the wire and throws itself back into its domain.


    It coughs, the sudden rush of air in where it hopes its lungs remain being simply too much to take in at once. It lays motionless for what feels like hours. It knows it hasn¡¯t quite lost itself yet, but it sure takes an awful while to find itself again. When it does, all it feels is the hard wire on its bones, and stale, lukewarm blood on its neck. It wishes the warmth was comforting. The warmth never is.


    It sits up, the blood slowly oozing out in clots from the slice on its neck. It takes another breath, then lets it out again. It raises its fingers from the top of the noose''s opening and follows it down to its neck with the same elegance of a fiddler holding their bow. It gently pulls at the wire. Slowly, just as the wire had sliced its way into its neck, the wire slices its way out. Small chunks of rotted flesh fall onto the wooden planks, leaving little splotches of brownish stains in their wake. The Puppeteer reaches over for its scarf, tying it tightly around its neck. The loose fabric tendrils dangling from the tourniquet hang over its shoulders like ribbons from a bow. It walks back over to the puppets, severing the strings on them with a small razor affixed to a nearby support beam. It envies their freedom.


    Never mind, never mind. He''ll hear me.


    It picks them up one by one and puts them back into the satchel. It sits down beside the satchel for a moment. It breathes once, then again.


    You¡¯d think I¡¯d be used to this now, wouldn¡¯t you?


    It raises up the scene changer and takes off each scene, tossing them into the box of props. Slowly, carelessly, it tosses them back in the props. It just wants to go home.


    Home, home, does it exist anymore?


    It quickly lowers the machine. It has better things to think about, like making sure it has all of its puppets packed up before it leaves. With a quick glance, it finds the area barren. It throws its satchel over its shoulder, then turns to the course of rotting wood that sits between it and freedom. It dances along the rafters, just as it has before. Looking down isn¡¯t usually in its plans, but it wants to check if the Ringmaster still lurks below. It squints, and finds only darkness below.


    Yes! I don''t have to stay in this tent a minute longer.


    It tries to smile, but the fresh wound in its neck shoots with pins. It might be in pain, but it won¡¯t leave the tent with a frown.


    It lowers itself down by a ripped part of curtain, then quietly slips its way into the backrooms of the big top. The boxes and crates full of props and toys sat as mere silhouettes in the night, as obstacles to weave through and hide behind. It had always heard mingling in this space before shows, but it never once thought to join. A single glance from another sent it sprinting for the rafter or ducking behind a painted chest. It''s a horrible way to exist, always hiding. Spending too much time in the dark only lets one befriend the shadows.


    It forlornly looks around at the boxes and props. It shrugs. Maybe it was for the best. The others wouldn¡¯t be long for this show anyway.


    When it finds its way to the midway outside, it finds itself greeted by the pitter-patter of rain falling to the ground and dancing atop its head. It sighs. After all this hard work, now it has to walk through the cold to get home. The long trek back to the neuron tree is enough already. It grimaces, but its misery vanishes with the thought of fresh water for tea.


    As it steps out into the midway, out of anyone¡¯s earshot, it mutters to itself. ¡°Yeah, tonight¡¯s a good night for tea.¡±

 Here We Are Again

    Pink lemonade petals float from the boughs of tangled trees amidst the sweet spring air. Along the swooping branches are smoothed down spots of rough bark fashioned into seats. There have never been true train stations in Portar, but through the power of teamwork and natural erosion, there are plenty of covered seats where one could wait outside the rain¡¯s line of fire and the sun¡¯s inescapable grasp.


    A tall dragon beast leans into the corner of a well-grown branch. The warm breeze brushes against the brazen orange scales on their chest, blowing the bottom of their coat and the hem of their skirt to and fro. They lay their tail down on the cobblestone ground, hoping to keep the tree from a fiery fate. They scratch their talons against the deep, rough bark, tracing every pattern of wear. Their wings are open, catching the light of the sun and the warmth of the air. They could fall asleep here if they aren¡¯t careful. But with their open wings, they¡¯re more worried about protecting whomever may come by.


    Hopefully, they won¡¯t have to guard anyone today. The midnight train won¡¯t be long, and hopefully their friends will be arriving soon. Oh, how they¡¯ve missed them. It¡¯s been so long since they¡¯ve had a proper hang-out or escapade. Summer seems eons ago, but from the hues of the flowers adorning the shelter, summer is probably closer now than ever.


    But something haunts their mind, and it isn¡¯t the thought of their friends or the wind against their scales. They feel something painful, like a wire stained with blood, tugging at their brain. They can¡¯t shake the feeling of doom around the corner. They know this time will be different, and they know it will be better. It has to be better. They won¡¯t let themselves so much as entertain the thought that it will somehow be worse. And yet, the wire loops on like a broken record, slowly nudging its way into the wrinkles of their brain.


    They rub their callused hand against the bark. A little inchworm crawls onto their claw, jagged from a fight long ago. The creature creeps its way onto their palm, and they hold it up to their eyes to get a better look at it.


    ¡°Wee beastie,¡± they growl, a forlorn look creeping its way into their eyes.


    A happier voice rings through the clearing.


    ¡°Hey, DJ!¡±


    DJ turns their gaze up from the insect, suddenly overcome with warmth. They toss the inchworm into the foliage beside them.


    ¡°Peony! Seb!¡±


    They jump up from the tree and throw open their arms, and Sebastian runs in for a hug. DJ ruffles his fluffy white hair as a brother might do, and tries their hardest to not break his wings as they throw their other arm around him for a hug. When the two let go, he turns to Peony and offers their hand out to shake. Peony takes it, and at once their clawed hand engulfs hers. She offers up her other hand, and the mass of starry ink engulfs DJ¡¯s claws in return. When the two let go, they take a respectful step back.


    They grin with opal-stone teeth. ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you two again.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you, too,¡± Sebastian says.


    ¡°Glad to see you haven¡¯t gotten hurt or anything since our last escapade,¡± Peony adds.


    DJ reaches up to rub their neck, ¡°Oh, funny you mention that,¡±


    Peony sighs in benign disappointment. ¡°You didn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, nothing more than a couple cuts and bruises, everyday kinda stuff,¡± They reassure. ¡°Might¡¯ve fallen out of a tree trying to pick starfruit, but you can¡¯t prove anything.¡±


    ¡°DJ¡­¡±


    ¡°What did I say? You can¡¯t prove anything.¡±


    Peony grumbles and crosses her arms, but the trio know it''s all in good fun.


    They chat for a bit, catching up on whatever needs catching up on. They¡¯ve all been well in their absence. Sebastian has been studying magic a bit more, trying to find where science might fit in to it all. Peony¡¯s still been keeping at her role of reaping souls and minds from the sky-sea, but it seems as though nobody¡¯s fit to enter Portar anymore. And DJ, just as usual, is trying to keep themselves out of trouble. They go on, much ado about nothing, until the conversation finally turns around to the others in their party.


    ¡°When do you suppose the Suit of Hearts will be here?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°Juniper, too?¡±


    ¡°Well, you know how King Frog is with them,¡± DJ replies, looking in the general direction of the castle. ¡°I figure he¡¯ll rattle off a list of a million rules for their behavior and then let them go with a threat in their back pockets. I¡¯m half expecting Juniper won¡¯t show up at all.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Peony asks, ¡°It¡¯s just the circus,¡± Peony mutters.


    ¡°Well, you know how hard we had to bug King Frog to let her come with us the last time we went out.¡±


    ¡°That was different,¡± she protests, ¡°The last time we invited her out for something like that was to kill a god. And we¡¯re not doing that now, are we?¡±


    DJ slowly turns their head away. It takes everything in them to hold their tongue. Just tell them, just tell them!


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Sebastian asks.


    DJ stands in silence for a second or two.


    ¡°I thought I saw them coming over there,¡± they reply.


    A shout echoes from behind them. ¡°Wrong way!¡±


    The three spin around on their heels to find Adderall bounding up to the group, dragging Fuego close behind. Adderalls¡¯ shoes light up with every step, her beaded bracelets jingling as she runs.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°Was King Frog holding you hostage?¡±


    Fuego brushes vens green hair away from vens lazy eye. ¡°Not exactly. He just wanted to know where we were going and if we had our work done.¡±


    Adderall¡¯s response is more exasperated. ¡°And he went off on us about asking for vacation earlier than the day of!¡±


    ¡°To be fair, we didn¡¯t ask until this morning if we could go.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not our fault he wouldn¡¯t let us ask him before then.¡±


    ¡°Will you two pause your bickering for a second?¡± Sebastian asks, putting up his hands to motion them to stop, ¡°We want to know if Juniper¡¯s going to be here.¡±


    The two reply in unison. ¡°Absolutely!¡±


    ¡°She asked Creo about it just the other night,¡± Fuego begins.


    ¡°And he said she could go.¡± Adderall finishes.


    ¡°Thank god,¡± Peony smiles.


    Fuego looks over his shoulder. ¡°Matter of fact, I think she was headed out just behind us when we left.¡±


    ¡°You bet I was!¡±


    Juniper walks up to join the group, taking her place next to Peony. Her ears perk up in happiness as she leans over to hug her.


    ¡°Say, where¡¯s Creo?¡± DJ asks, ¡°You said he was coming with us, right?¡±


    Juniper leaves her hug, her ears and tail falling in frustration. ¡°Last minute decision by Dad. He¡¯s not coming with us.¡±


    The group erupts in displeasure. DJ mutters something under their breath, Sebastian lets out an Oh, come on!, and Peony shakes her head in silence. Fuego rolls vens eyes and sighs, and Adderall just asks why.


    ¡°Dad says he can¡¯t have more than three advisors out at a time,¡± Juniper says with a shrug.


    ¡°Since when were you an advisor?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Hell if I know!¡± She replies, ¡°Guess ¡®cause I¡¯m seventeen now, but you¡¯d think he¡¯d at least have the nerve to tell me before then.¡±


    ¡°Bet it¡¯s just for when it¡¯s convenient for him,¡± Sebastian adds, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be sorry,¡± she replies, batting a paw in his direction, ¡°Creo told me not to be, at least. I think that extends to all of you.¡±


    Fuego looks over his shoulder to find DJ looking out to nowhere, again. Ve shrugs. It''s not the first time they''ve done that, and it probably won''t be the last time either.


    ¡°DJ, are you alright?¡± Ve asks.


    DJ jumps a little. ¡°Oh, sorry, Fuego. I¡¯m good, yeah. Just thinking, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°You, thinking?¡± Adderall laughs, ¡°That can¡¯t be good.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right,¡± DJ grins, letting out a snicker of their own, ¡°I have a terrible idea.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Sebastian gasps, ¡°Tell us!¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s a-¡± they pause in consideration, ¡°-terrible idea.¡±


    Juniper smugly crosses her arms. ¡°All the more reason to say it.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I promise it¡¯s better unsaid.¡±


    Fuego smirks. ¡°Oh, come on, DJ.¡±


    ¡°Alright, if you all insist. I was just thinking about how we could make this another adventure, that¡¯s all.¡±


    The group starts to open up into mischievous smiles. DJ looks on in dismay.


    ¡°How do you propose we do that?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Well," DJ grimaces, "You know how I get when I get bored, how I start reading every book ever published. I found an old Dungeons and Dragons manual in a thrift store downtown, and I buried myself in that thing for a week or so.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t forget to eat again, did you?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Peony, if I forgot to eat, how else could I have fallen out of a starfruit tree? Anyhow, I found a campaign idea that involved a circus run by the fae. You know, the magical mafia. One option for the quest was having the players join the circus, and I got to thinking about that. I thought about it a lot. Still thinking about it now, actually. What I¡¯m saying is do you all wanna go join the circus?¡±


    They all start to giggle and silently scheme. Everyone, save for DJ. They all had the simmering feeling another adventure was bound to pop up somewhere along the way. Now, it has.


    ¡°I like it,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°I like it a lot actually.¡±


    ¡°Maybe King Frog had some foresight after all,¡± Fuego grins, vens orange teeth glimmering in the moonlight. ¡°Maybe it was good he didn¡¯t send Creo.¡±


    ¡°You know he¡¯d just try to stop us,¡± Juniper says, her tail flipping in excitement.


    ¡°Wait just a second,¡± Peony interrupts, ¡°If we¡¯re gonna join this circus, we¡¯ve got to have acts. You can¡¯t just ask to join the circus and be some talentless bum plucked fresh from the vine.¡±


    ¡°Not true,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Elm Log Musk.¡±


    ¡°Are you implying he¡¯s talentless?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°Because you and I both know he¡¯s the biggest clown alive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, knock it off!¡± DJ says, playfully nudging the two with their elbow.


    ¡°Come on, DJ, you settle this,¡± Fuego teases.


    ¡°The only thing I¡¯ll be settling,¡± they begin, ¡°is you guys on the train that¡¯s pulling up behind us.¡±


    Indeed, the train is slowly grinding to a halt behind them. The old, gray engine isn¡¯t something quiet enough for the normal person to ignore. Even if a deaf man couldn¡¯t hear the grinding and gritting of the gears and tires, he¡¯d find himself blinded by the smoke pouring from the engine and overwhelmed by the smell of embers.


    The group stands up from the trees and walks up to the tracks as the engine car slows to a stop before them. DJ takes their place at the head of the group and begins their march to the head of the engine. The others fall behind them as though they were fish following a swan to food. The door swings open, and the two-headed conductor leans down to address them.


    ¡°Where you off to?¡± The first head huffs, the smell of coal rising from his breath.


    ¡°The circus,¡± DJ replies, ¡°In the Ganglion Forest, I believe?¡±


    ¡°Fah!'''' The first head scoffs, nudging its glasses up to its ashy eyes, ¡°First time I¡¯ve heard¡¯a group of kids yer age goin¡¯ to a circus since the summer¡¯a ¡®44! Get yerselves in a car, and be quick! When she starts movin¡¯, she won¡¯t stop ¡®till there¡¯s a destination!¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir!¡± Sebastian calls.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    The group rushes down to the second passenger car. DJ hops in the door first, helping to make sure the others all make it inside in time. The train starts moving right before Sebastian can make it in, and DJ grabs hold of his arm and pulls him in the car. When DJ closes the door, they all scramble to their seats, their shoes thumping along on the carpeted floor.


    As DJ staggers back to the booth where their friends are sitting, the dark oak of the train car feels ever more suffocatingly dark with each step. The red of the carpet and cushiony seats feels like spilled blood, the worn floor below like the shadows of a massacre. The popcorn ceiling above them is a moonless sky vacant of pitying stars.


    DJ moves slowly to their seat. No, they took the bait. I shouldn''t have said a thing about this.


    They hear Fuego''s voice. "DJ? You''re spacing out again."


    Was it me who said it, though? Or was it my imagination?


    "Oh, sorry," they reply, walking to their seat.


    Whatever god may tell this story, make it me, not them.


    Their dread leaves them as they sit down, draping their arm over the back of the velvet booth. Adderall and Fuego sit beside them, and Juniper, Peony, and Sebastian sit opposite. DJ crosses their legs and leans ever so slightly forward into the group.


    ¡°So,¡± they begin, ¡°I figure it¡¯ll take us a good two hours to get there. But we should probably start brainstorming now.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°First order of business would probably be getting what everyone¡¯s good at out in the air.¡±


    ¡°Anyone got a pen and a cocktail napkin we can write on?¡± Fuego asks, resting vens arms on the gray clothed table.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I do,¡± Peony mutters, looking into her obi.


    Juniper rustles through the pockets of her green jacket. ¡°I might have a pencil or something.¡±


    ¡°Can we fog up a window and write on it that way?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°Like-¡±


    Sebastian breathes on the window and draws a smiley face on it with a much-too-long finger.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Adderall says, nodding in approval.


    "Hang on," Juniper interrupts, presenting a green crayon from her jacket pocket. ¡°Found one!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all good, but does anyone have paper?¡± Fuego asks.


    DJ stands up from their booth and walks over to the door. An old, worn clipboard dangles from a rusted nail, and a piece of paper hangs from its clip. The scribblings on the front look to be some sort of schedule, but the handwriting is almost too messy for DJ to tell. They remove it, flip it over, and find the other side to be blank. They nod and walk back over to the table.


    ¡°Who wants to be secretary?¡± they ask.


    ¡°I can,¡± Peony replies, raising her void arm.


    DJ slides the paper over to Peony, and Juniper hands her the crayon.


    ¡°So, let¡¯s get down to business: things we¡¯re good at,¡± Sebastian begins. ¡°Who wants to go first?¡±


    ¡°We can!¡± Adderall exclaims, raising her hand high.


    ¡°Alrighty then,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°Adderall, you¡¯ve got the floor.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she begins, ¡°We¡¯re pretty funny, so I figured we¡¯d make good clowns.¡±


    Fuego turns to Adderall. ¡°Adderall," Ve sighs, "Adderall, Adderall, Adderall. We¡¯re funny, sure, but clowns?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she rebukes, ¡°Why? You¡¯re already a clown, you listen to 100 Gecs!¡±


    ¡°100 Gecs makes me a clown?¡± Fuego laughs, ¡°Alright then, what does Machine Girl make you?¡±


    ¡°Hey now, don¡¯t lump me into this mess,¡± DJ playfully growls, ¡°At least you¡¯re not like Sebastian,¡± they put the back of their hand by their mouth and pretend to whisper. ¡°I heard he listens to Weezer.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Sebastian rebukes.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re getting off track,¡± Peony says. ¡°So, clowns, Adderall?¡±


    ¡°Yep!¡± She nods.


    Fuego shoots her a disapproving glare.


    Adderall throws her head back in feigned exasperation. ¡°Come on, do you guys think ve could be a clown?¡±


    ¡°I think ve¡¯s more a mime kinda guy,¡± Sebastian replies. ¡°Fuego, what did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°I was gonna say knife throwing or juggling,¡± ve says, ¡°Because those are two-person acts easily.¡±


    ¡°Are you gonna make me the target?¡±


    ¡°Theoretically either one of us could be the target. I mean, it¡¯s not like I can¡¯t make you throw the knife. And imagine how much of a bait-and-switch that would be. You, absolutely bleeding neon, and me, looking like the murderous forest nymph, and you¡¯re the one holding the knife.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s funny,¡± Juniper adds.


    They all nod in agreement.


    ¡°Any objections?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Adderall sits back in her chair and thinks for a minute. ¡°You know what? Maybe it would be. And hey, nothing¡¯s saying I can¡¯t bait-and-switch you with pie instead of a knife.¡±


    ¡°You do that and you¡¯re gonna get it,¡± Fuego snickers.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve decided?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Sure have,¡± Fuego replies.


    Peony scribbles down on the paper: ¡°Fuego and Adderall- knife experts (hopefully)¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Juniper says.


    He nods. ¡°The floor¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°So you know how I can dance silks, right?¡±


    The others nod and mutter in glee.


    ¡°That¡¯s gonna be so cool,¡± Peony replies.


    ¡°I know, right?¡± Juniper beams, ¡°I¡¯ll actually have space to do tricks without worrying about knocking over anything. And if they don¡¯t have silks, I can take rings if need be. What could possibly go wrong?¡±


    ¡°And they haven¡¯t seen you dance since last time, right?¡± Adderall asks.


    She gasps. ¡°Oh, you guys haven¡¯t seen me since the last time we were all together. I¡¯ve gotten so much better since then!¡±


    ¡°I can vouch,¡± Fuego nods. ¡°She¡¯s really getting the hang of those things.¡±


    Juniper grins. ¡°I¡¯m starting to learn some of the dances from the kingdoms by the horizon. Creo says I¡¯m getting good at them.¡±


    Peony¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°The Horizon Islands? Juniper, you know how hard their dances are, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re really hard. You know the one where it''s¨C can''t remember the actual name of it in Twilight Tongue ¨Clike, that Dance of the Colors of Dawn?¡±


    ¡°That one? You mean the dance?¡±


    ¡°Yep, I mean the dance.¡±


    ¡°I-¡± Peony struggles for words, ¡°I- Juniper, how?¡±


    ¡°Just practice, I guess. Put me down for silks, Peony,¡±


    ¡°You got it! I¡¯m putting you down for silks.¡±


    Peony makes another note: ¡°Peony- swag silk/hoop dancing (A Must See!)¡±


    ¡°DJ? Peony?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go next,¡± DJ says.


    Sebastian nods for them to begin.


    ¡°I need a little practice on it, probably, but I could probably do the fire knife or some other fire dancing for my show.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing another knife act?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°No, you guys remember that dance I did last time we were out, where I lit my sword on fire and started doing tricks with it?¡±


    ¡°Of course we do,¡± Juniper replies, ¡°And I thought we agreed to never mention the Cracker Barrel Incident ever again.¡±


    ¡°First of all, those deaths had nothing to do with me. Second of all, I¡¯ve gotten better at it. I won''t burn anything down this time.¡±


    Fuego rolls vens eyes. ¡°Or hurt someone with the blade.¡±


    DJ grimaces. ¡°Or hurt someone with the blade.¡±


    ¡°Are there any, um, less violent options?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°I can always try finding some poi or a hoop or some whips. Anything¡¯s possible with the power of arson.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not burning down anything,¡± Peony scolds.


    DJ makes an X on their chest with a claw. ¡°Cross my heart and hope to spit, I won¡¯t light a spark on any of it.¡±


    ¡°You promise?¡±


    ¡°Peony, when have I ever broken a promise?¡±


    Peony doesn¡¯t say anything. They¡¯ve never broken a promise, but they¡¯ve certainly skated the line a time or two. She almost trusts them.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Peony asks, ¡°Fire knife? Fire dancing?¡±


    DJ replies, ¡°Fire dancing.¡±


    Peony quickly writes down on her paper: ¡°DJ- fire dance (Extreme danger)¡±


    ¡°Now that that¡¯s settled,¡± DJ begins, ¡°Peony, what do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± she asks.


    She sets down her crayon and paper, and looks around the train car. The walls are a deep brown, the seats a velvet red. Each table between the booths is cloaked with gray cloth. Outside the small windows, the trees rush by. Their leaves are hues of pink and blue, a tell-tale sign of summer¡¯s soon arrival. She hears¨C


    ¡°Peony?¡±


    She jumps a little. ¡°Uh-¡±


    ¡°Do you need a minute?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯d be nice. Thank you.¡±


    Peony looks down at the paper, trying to scrounge for ideas. In the meantime, DJ focuses their attention on Sebastian.


    ¡°So, Seb,¡± they begin, ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Sebastian says, snapping out of a vacant stare.. ¡°I was thinking I¡¯d do some magic.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± Adderall giggles, ¡°Sebastian, this is a talent show.¡±


    Fuego nudges Adderall with vens elbow. Adderall stops laughing.


    ¡°Hear me out for a second, though,¡± Sebastian continues, ¡°I¡¯ve figured out that if I sing just the right way, I can create illusions with song.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Juniper asks.


    ¡°I can pick stuff up and move it, I can conjure colors, I can control people¡¯s moods and actions-¡±


    DJ is suddenly startled. ¡°Control people¡¯s emotions and actions? Seb, you know that¡¯s, oh, I don¡¯t know, extremely morally questionable.¡±


    ¡°Right, but let¡¯s focus on the illusions for a moment. Imagine card tricks reliant on music for them to work because I can physically make them disappear from view with a single note. Or that the card never vanished, the audience is just charmed so they can¡¯t see the card. I can create entire paintings and settings to trick people into thinking they¡¯re somewhere else with a song. That¡¯s all I mean by that, DJ.¡±


    ¡°I mean, mark him down as our magic guy, Peony. Just," DJ pauses, "We¡¯ll probably keep an eye on you with the whole controlling people thing.¡±


    ¡°DJ, if we¡¯re in trouble, I can protect all of you by making the force turn on itself. You know I only do stuff like that if it¡¯s for good.¡±


    ¡°I hate to be rude,¡± Fuego interjects, ¡°But aren¡¯t you a proxy or something weird like that that we ought to be worrying about?¡±


    Sebastian grumbles. ¡°Look, Mr. Crick is not the same as that weird forest guy in a suit you guys keep sending me memes about. Besides, do you think he¡¯d let me hurt people?"


    ¡°And do you even think Sebastian could hurt people?¡± Juniper asks, ¡°I mean, look at him, he¡¯s built like a curtain rod!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate the insult, but thank you. And do you think you get a halo like this by violence?¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯re getting sidetracked,¡± Peony mutters, ¡°Should I put you down for magic, Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± DJ grumbles, ¡°But if you start being immoral, we¡¯re gonna have a talk, got it?¡±


    Sebastian lifts his right hand and smiles. ¡°You have my word as a weirdo that it¡¯ll never have to happen.¡±


    DJ glares at Sebastian. They shrug, then drop their caution. He wouldn¡¯t slap a mosquito if it was making a feast of him.


    Peony makes the note on her paper: ¡°Sebastian: music magic (not dangerous, thank you very much)¡±


    ¡°And you, Peony?¡±


    Peony looks up from her paper and up at DJ. She twirls the crayon in her right hand.


    ¡°Gee, I,¡± She begins, barely scraping by with a whisper, ¡°I guess I haven¡¯t really thought about it at all.¡±


    ¡°Hey, this is a brainstorm,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°How ¡®bout we help you?¡±


    ¡°That would be nice,¡± She smiles, her voice growing to a normal volume.


    ¡°Alright then, Seb, fog up the window again.¡±


    ¡°Can do!¡± He replies, fogging up the window with a breath.


    DJ rubs their hands together, as if queuing the start. ¡°So, what sorts of acts do we find at a circus?¡±


    ¡°Clowns,¡± Adderall says, ¡°Always gotta have clowns.¡±


    ¡°Jugglers also,¡± Fuego adds.


    ¡°She deserves something cooler than that,¡± Juniper scoffs, ¡°Roehnrad, at minimum.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that again?¡± Peony asks


    ¡°They give you a wheel, and while the wheel spins you do different acrobatic tricks.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not that good at acrobatics, Juniper.¡±


    "Oh. Right."


    Adderall speaks up again. ¡°If you want something cool, why not be a lion tamer or something like that.¡±


    ¡°Animal cruelty?¡± Peony asks, ¡°I think there¡¯s some ethical concerns with that.¡±


    "You''re worried about ethics, and yet your resident boytoy can literally puppeteer people if he wants to."


    "My what¨C?"


    ¡°Just a second,¡± Fuego interjects, ¡°You¡¯re the main reaper of Portar, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, why?¡±


    ¡°Well, you only get there if you¡¯re good with manipulating death or the dead. Do you think there¡¯s an act for necromancy?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I could do that,¡± Peony mutters, ¡°So, like, animating a corpse?¡±


    ¡°Or just about any object,¡± Fuego adds. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sure you could get something to possess an object.¡±


    ¡°I was gonna say,¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°Where on earth are we going to find corpses in Portar?¡±


    DJ smiles. ¡°Probably on a train going down to the circus.¡±


    A couple quiet giggles rise through the silence, but Peony¡¯s voice quiets them all.


    ¡°Seriously, though, I like that,¡± she smiles, ¡°But isn¡¯t that just another magic act?¡±


    ¡°Good question,¡± DJ mutters.


    ¡°You know, we could always do our act together,¡± Sebastian adds, ¡°You can take the main act, and I¡¯ll be your assistant. You can animate the body, and I¡¯ll sing up some colors to draw everyone¡¯s eyes to the scene. And if something goes wrong and you can¡¯t animate the body, I can convince everyone it is alive.¡±


    Sebastian looks down at Peony, resting his hands on the table. Peony looks back at him, then smiles and nods.


    ¡°Yeah, we can do that! I like that idea, and the best part is we can stay together.¡±


    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re all done,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°Everybody¡¯s got an act; we¡¯re all set!¡±


    As the others cheer, Peony writes down her act and draws an arrow connecting Sebastian to her.


    ¡°Me: Necromancy (or otherwise mocking death)¡±


    She looks up from her paper and finds Sebastian looking out the window. She tugs at his sleeve, and he turns his gaze to her.


    She whispers to him, ¡°And I know you¡¯re not always good with an audience.¡±


    Sebastian looks as though he¡¯s realized he¡¯s answered a question wrong just after turning in a test. ¡°Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you, ok? We¡¯ll be alright, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He looks back out through the window, watching the trees pass by. The window is dirty, and from the looks of things, he wasn¡¯t the one to dirty it. He wonders how any train window could¡¯ve gotten this dusty.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sebastian replies, fiddling with a wire dangling from his wrist. ¡°Just worried that something might go wrong, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise you something won¡¯t go wrong, but I promise I¡¯ll stick with you through it, ok?¡±


    ¡°Pinky promise?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Peony holds out the pinky of her void arm, and Sebastian sticks a much too long pinky out from the sleeve of his jacket. They hook them together, then shake their hands. When Peony unhooks her hand, it takes Sebastian another second to unhook his. She looks up at him, and he quickly looks away. He pulls his hand back into his sleeve, then holds his hand in his other arm. Peony looks at his arm, then back at him.


    DJ¡¯s voice breaks the silence between them. ¡°Hey, you guys?¡±


    The two jump a little.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Sebastian asks.


    DJ continues. ¡°We were just asking if either of you had a pack of cards.¡±


    ¡°We wanted to play A House of Crows,¡± Fuego adds.


    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± Sebastian replies, ¡°I should have one in my coat here.¡±


    Peony reaches into her obi and pulls out a pack of cards.


    ¡°I have one,¡± she smiles.


    ¡°Hey-¡±


    Sebastian reaches into his coat pocket and finds it empty. He looks back at Peony, holding the pack of cards. She looks back at him with a smug little glare.


    ¡°Did you steal mine?¡± Sebastian smiles.


    ¡°A magician never reveals her secrets,¡± Peony teases.


    ¡°Well, hand them here,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°I¡¯ll deal us all in.¡±

 Kara Kara Kara no Kara

    Slowly, the train begins to grind to a stop. The car jolts sharply, tossing cards and betting charms across the table as the group rushes to clean up their game. Fuego was the lucky one today, if they had bet real teeth ve¡¯d be the richest among them. They never bet their teeth, of course. That was an adult¡¯s game. For them, mere grown-ups, they¡¯re more than satisfied with buttons and cicada shells.


    They find themselves stopped in near total darkness. Not even the lamps hung between the windows can fully illuminate the train cars. The shadows cast from the indiscriminate forms outside are pervasive, filling up the car like water in a glass. The longer they stare out the window, the closer the shadows seem to gather.


    DJ is rather unfazed by the dark. They stand up from their seat without even the slightest touch of fear and walk out into the aisle, waiting for the others to join them. The others, however hesitantly, slide out of their seats to join them. Except Juniper, who sits and stares out of the window, paralyzed by the darkness.


    ¡°Juniper, are you good?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just,¡± Juniper mutters, ¡°I never expected there¡¯d be a circus out here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so the lights stick out during the brighter night,¡± DJ explains, ¡°If anything jumps out at us, I¡¯ll fight it. How about that?¡±


    The others seem calmed by DJ¡¯s words, but barely so. Juniper scoots out of the booth and joins Adderall and Fuego¡¯s side as DJ starts to stride along to the door. They fling open the door and help the others to the ground, just as they had at the train station back by the castle. Some of them jump at the feeling of cold ooze beneath their feet. DJ seems not to notice. They silently turn to the engine as soon as everyone¡¯s settled. The others follow close behind them, watching with darting eyes as DJ leads their walk beside the train tracks.


    ¡°Relax, you guys,¡± DJ says, ¡°It¡¯s just the forest.¡±


    DJ walks up to the engine door and gives it a knock, their claws clanking loudly against the wrought iron of the train. With a ghastly groan, the door swings open, and the two headed beast raises its gaze towards the travelers.


    ¡°What do I owe you?¡± DJ shouts.


    ¡°One molar for each of you,¡± the closer head growls.


    DJ reaches into the satchel around their waist and counts out six molars. The conductor holds out his wiry hand, and DJ drops the teeth into it. The conductor counts them again, then puts them in an old mason jar mug, already overflowing with molars and grinders.


    The conductor scratches his head. ¡°There was somethin¡¯ I was itchin¡¯ to tell ya, now what was it?¡±


    Peony is the only one brave enough to speak. ¡°Did it have to do with the circus at all?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Somethin¡¯ ¡®bout the birth of madness, or was it rage or sadness?¡±


    ¡°At the circus, sir?¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about it, miss,¡± the other head calls, coal dust flying from his mustache, ¡°He gets like this when people come along. Never missed a chance to scare ¡®em, I¡¯ll tell ya.¡±


    The other head laughs, and the head sticking out the door turns around to scold their companion.


    ¡°Ah, cut me a break, this time I mean it! There¡¯s¡¯ a-somethin¡¯ awry about this place, ya hear?¡±


    Peony pushes ahead of DJ. ¡°Sir, what do you mean?¡±


    The door slams shut, and at once the train speeds away. The group stands still for a minute, watching the train speed off into the darkness. Soon, the hot smell of coals and smoke feels like a distant memory. All alone, the forest feels suffocating.


    ¡°We¡¯re stranded,¡± Fuego mutters in terror.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go that direction quite yet,¡± DJ says, ¡°We just got here.¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t you know you¡¯re stranded the second you hit the island?¡± Juniper scolds, her ears folded down on her head.


    ¡°Pessimism isn¡¯t getting us anywhere, and that¡¯s final. Now, everyone, close your eyes for a few seconds so you can adjust to the darkness.¡±


    The group waits for DJ to fan out their wings to their full glory before closing their eyes tight. If there¡¯s only one force more powerful than grown-up ferocity, it¡¯s grown-up phobia. DJ closes their eyes right along with them, and when they open them again, the lights are brighter than before.


    ¡°Open your eyes, guys,¡± They say, ¡°And look around for a minute.¡±


    The others open their eyes, and DJ tucks away their wings.


    The forest around them is a twisted, warping mess of branches and stems, with small rings of light flowing from the ground and up into the incomprehensible masses of the canopy above. From the lower branches, glowing ropes of moss dangle like fingers, dripping starlit dew to the floor below. Mist hangs low around the oozing ground, and the smell of overripe fruit rises from the muck below their feet. All around them, the hostile sprouting branches of neuronic trees and nervous herbs twist and contort into fearful growths. When they look above them, they find no comfort of the stars. Instead, they catch the occasional glimpse of a hostile set of eyes from the undersides of exposed leaves. The only color not blue, violet, or sickly green is the light of flames from DJ¡¯s eye and tail.


    Juniper lets out a sharp scream. A flock of large moths takes flight overhead.


    ¡°Be quiet!¡± Fuego whisper-yells.


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it!¡± Juniper rebukes, ¡°There¡¯s a centipede that crawled over my foot.¡±


    The others stare at her in concern.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°Oh, you guys know I can¡¯t do bugs!¡± She whimpers, ¡°DJ, is there a path out of this place?¡±


    They point into a clearing where the grasses glow a dim purple. ¡°There¡¯s one right across from the train tracks, on the right, there¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± Peony mutters, unconsciously grabbing Sebastian¡¯s arm and racing for the clearing.


    The others follow closely, with DJ lagging behind at the end of the convoy. When they reach the grass, they all wipe their feet free of the slime.


    ¡°How are you not scared of this?¡± Juniper asks.


    DJ shrugs. ¡°Guess it comes with age.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re, like, not even that much older than us!¡±


    ¡°Nine years, Juniper. A lot can happen in nine years.¡±


    Juniper growls under her breath. ¡°Can¡¯t wait till I¡¯m 26.¡±


    ¡°Did everyone get the,¡± Peony pauses, ¡°Ick off their feet?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Adderall says, ¡°Should we get going?¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°Yeah, of course.¡±


    ¡°Can DJ and I go ahead of you guys?¡± Fuego asks, ¡°Just in case something jumps out in front of us.¡±


    ¡°Actually, maybe we should put DJ at the front and you in the back,¡± Adderall adds, ¡°So we¡¯re safe on both sides.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± DJ says.


    DJ walks up to the front of the group, and Adderall and Fuego lag behind. They walk out of the clearing and into the narrow trail ahead. The grass makes a curious cracking sound as they walk atop it.


    Peony finds herself still holding onto Sebastian. She looks up at him, and she finds him staring off into the distance. She looks back down at their hands, and it seems as though Sebastian¡¯s fingers have merged with the ooze of her left hand. She looks away from him in haste, focusing on the darkness between the trees as she lets his hand go. As sharply as she turned away, she looks back, and Sebastian turns his attention to her as if he didn¡¯t notice anything.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard a word out of you,¡± Peony asks, ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sebastian replies, slipping his hand in his pockets. ¡°I¡¯ve kinda just been enjoying it, actually. And you?¡±


    ¡°Enjoying it?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Well, yeah. It¡¯s like a laser tag area.¡±


    ¡°I guess. I could see how you got there.¡±


    ¡°But how are you? That¡¯s more important to me right now.¡±


    ¡°Honestly?¡± Peony stares at the ground, ¡°Not as scared as I think I should be.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I feel like I ought to be more afraid of what¡¯s out here in the woods. Especially with the conductor¡¯s warning.¡±


    ¡°That did feel like a ¡®one tells only truth, one tells only lies¡¯ moment, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I wish there was some sort of answer to that.¡±


    ¡°How about we do this: which answer would you prefer it to be?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯d rather stay on my guard, actually.¡±


    ¡°Then I will do what I can to keep you safe. I¡¯ll look past the glow of the trees and make sure nothing¡¯s coming for you, is that alright?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that, you know.¡±


    ¡°Why would I not?¡±


    Peony looks down at the ground. Here he is, throwing himself at her feet, and what has she done to deserve it?


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    To Sebastian, though, he¡¯d be dead if it wasn¡¯t for her. It¡¯s the least he can do.


    ¡°Thank you, Sebastian,¡± she says with a small smile.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    The two carry along, Sebastian now holding onto his wires ready to shock whatever crawls across the path. He knows it¡¯ll hurt, but it¡¯s worth it for her. Worst case, DJ can help him.


    Meanwhile, in the back of the convoy, Adderall, Fuego, and Juniper are having problems of their own.


    ¡°Who would ever build a circus out here?¡± Juniper asks, ¡°I think you¡¯d want some sort of large clearing for one of those.¡±


    ¡°I mean, you can set up tents with trees instead of poles and such,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°More cost effective, more efficient.¡±


    ¡°You think they¡¯d have room to do that here?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Cut down a tree or two, put something up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you keep a pocket dimension on you,¡± Adderall interjects, ¡°Why else do you think the tents are bigger on the inside?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that! What if we get stuck in a pocket dimension?¡±


    ¡°So what if we do, we just have to find a little tiny tear in the fabric of reality and rip it apart like wallpaper. It¡¯s simple!¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t that kill us?¡±


    ¡°Can we even experience death if we¡¯ve no atoms to support our consciousness?¡±


    Juniper looks at her, whether in terror or disappointment is anyone¡¯s guess.


    ¡°Adderall?¡±


    Adderall grins quite literally from ear to ear. ¡°Come on, answer me!¡±


    Fuego sighs. ¡°I brought my pocket-dimension-escaping kit with me, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°How do you fit that in your pockets?¡± Adderall laughs.


    Ve shrugs. ¡°Adderall, I could fit an entire long sword in these pants if I wanted to.¡±


    ¡°True, true,¡± she grins, ¡°But you could have always used a pocket dimension.¡±


    Juniper looks down to the ground. ¡°We¡¯re all gonna die.¡±


    ¡°Now don¡¯t say that,¡± DJ calls back, ¡°You¡¯re not gonna die, promise. Matter of fact, I think we¡¯re getting close.¡±


    ¡°How can you tell?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± DJ says, ¡°Do you guys smell that?¡±


    Everyone pauses.


    ¡°The sugar, you guys!¡± DJ says, ¡°It smells sweet, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± Sebastian adds.


    He takes a deep breath full of the air and turns green with nausea. The air is sweeter than nectar, but it settles at the bottom of his stomach and aches with dreadful knots and clots. He looks down to Peony, hoping for her to appear slightly sick too, but finds no comfort in her expression. He looks away and buries the feeling.


    As they continue their walk through the forest, the smell grows ever stronger, and soon the faint sound of music creeps its way through the trees. The others slowly stop talking to listen to the sound filling the air. To any other listener, it''s a cacophony of disagreeable noises, but to the group, they all find the melody a hypnotic sort of pleasant. Something amidst the rambling of noise finds sense in their minds and buries inside like a horrid little worm. All of them, save for Sebastian, who combined with the horrid smell maiming him from the inside, feels closer and closer to shutting down.


    ¡°DJ, can I borrow your MP3 player for a minute?¡± He asks, tugging DJ¡¯s coat, ¡°I can¡¯t take this song.¡±


    DJ fishes around their coat pocket before handing them the black box with the cracked screen. ¡°Alright then. Just be careful with the buttons.¡±


    Sebastian puts in the earbuds and turns up the music. He puts a sleeve-covered hand over his face and keeps on walking along.


    Soon, though, the ambient music dies down and the lights of the trees are overpowered by the light in the clearing ahead. Clearing being a relative term: it seems just as suffocating as the trail that leads them there. Sebastian takes his earbuds out and hands the MP3 player back to DJ. With another minute of walking, they soon find themselves in a whirlwind of color. As they carry on into the clearing, they lose memory of the path that came before.


    They find themselves wrapped in a cloak of warm, bright lights among tents and stalls nestled into the treeline. The path quickly turns from grass to dirt, and the mist turns into dust. All around them, ghostly performers in vibrant colors walk along the dusty trails, never looking at them or showing their faces. The crowds are as vast as the sea, and yet somehow they stay a good few feet away from them as they creep deeper into the carnival. The voices of guests fill the air around them to near bursting, but no one other than nuclear shadows of guests find their way here. Smells of popcorn and sugar waft their way to the group, and yet no food of any freshness lies in the stalls.It¡¯s suffocating, all of it, a whirlwind of maddening stimuli that would make even the most insensitive of people break.


    But do they notice?


    The group gallops down the midway with no ounce of fear amidst them. They weave between figures of other circus goers and walking performers alike, only stopping to say their apologies as they beeline for the big top. One of them will point out a game with a prize of eye-catching proportions, only to be promised that they will try the game later. The crowds, the music, the lights, it¡¯s all disorienting. There¡¯s no direction, no guidance, only one foot after the other. They feel as if they¡¯re falling, yet every one finds both feet coming to rest on the ground with every hurried step. One step, one step, one step.


    They rush deeper and deeper into the circus. Now, the colors of the lights warp their sight into fractals and paisleys of something once recognizable. They switch paths erratically, racing down any open corridor they find, slowly finding themselves trapped within illusion after illusion. The trail from which they came from no longer exists. All that remains is them, here and now in this moment. The noises, the smells, the rising dust from their feet, it swallows them whole. They can hardly breathe from the running and the dust.


    ¡­


    Drowning.


    Is that the word?


    I think so.


    Drowning, then. We drowned.


    ¡­


    Meanwhile, the small Puppeteer is cowering along the lonely paths, making its way to the big top for its own performance. It knows the way by rotted heart, however twisting and turning it may be. It crosses over from the final back alley to the midway, but hears a grand commotion coming from its side. It stops, and soon finds a colorful hodgepodge of people rushing in its direction. It drops its puppets to the ground and hunkers down with its arms over its head.


    The group screeches to a halt, dust kicking up behind them. They crowd behind DJ, looking at the small figure below. The figure whimpers and shakes. They pity it. For the first time in what feels like hours, a clear thought finds its way into their heads. The Puppeteer rises up when it realizes it''s not in danger of being run over.


    DJ¡¯s voice is gruff, but not unfriendly. ¡°Hey, sorry we almost ran you over. Are you one of the performers here?¡±


    The figure nods, picking up its bag of puppets and standing.


    ¡°Do you know where the big top is?¡± DJ asks, ¡°Me and her have been arguing on where to go for the past 10 minutes.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t a lie. They had been talking about something. What they were talking about though was probably long lost on the both of them. Not that it matters, anyway.


    The figure looks in the direction of the tent, then back at DJ. It¡¯s no use in pointing. It knows full well about the first illusion. They¡¯ll only end up more lost.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± it mutters.


    The group slowly continues on. This performer isn¡¯t at all like the rest of the crowds. It certainly wasn¡¯t afraid to look DJ in the eye, nor was it afraid to speak. And when they walked within its guidance, the lights and colors ceased to harm them. Something about it felt real. Perhaps a little too real.


    The Puppeteer can¡¯t help but turn back and marvel at the group behind it. Were they real too? They blinked, they did not step in time with each other, and they certainly didn¡¯t stare. Did they have stories to tell? Did they speak with malice? Did they crave meat? What were people like, anyway? It decides that perhaps it isn¡¯t worth asking. Not yet, at least.


    Eventually, the puppeteer shows them to the maw of the big top. A small flicker of light emanates down the long, cloth hallway. It¡¯s too dark to see the colors on the walls. The group looks at the Puppeteer and nods as thanks, and the Puppeteer turns to leave. It¡¯s stopped by a single voice from the crowd.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, so I can thank you?¡±


    The Puppeteer turns around and finds himself caught in the gaze of a tall, thin figure, draped in a green cloak. Their hair is an icy white, and the bags under their eyes look practically non-threatening. Their shirt bears a glyph of some kind, and their stomach is wrapped with a great wire. Other wires coil around their neck and dangle like vines from their wrist. From their back, the wings of a moth gently slope to the ground, bearing obscured glyphs of eyes. It¡¯s only after it notices their wings do they notice the short antennae resting atop their head, lying back in relaxation. That, and the halo.


    A moth, it thinks, A moth drawn to a very unfortunate flame.


    ¡°Ano,¡± the Puppeteer hesitates, looking from the figure to its puppets to the ground. It can¡¯t seem to find words in its respected tongue. Sunshine would kill it for that.


    The Puppeteer looks at the figure before it. They¡¯re not Sunshine. Was it worth it to trust them?


    The puppeteer makes their choice. ¡°Ikimono desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.¡±


    Ikimono bows to the moth before them. The moth returns their gesture.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sebastian,¡± they say, ¡°I like your name, Ikimono.¡±


    ¡°Thank you?¡± Ikimono asks, half uncertain of its words.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Sebastian smiles.


    ¡°Sebastian!¡±


    The two turn to the entrance to the tent. Peony rushes out, stopping beside Sebastian.


    ¡°Sebastian, what are you-¡±


    She looks down and catches a glimpse of the Puppeteer, Ikimono, standing before them.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she says, ¡°You¡¯ve made a friend, I see.¡±


    ¡°Their name is Ikimono,¡± Sebastian says. ¡°Ikimono, this is Peony.¡±


    Ikimono nods, then bows again to Peony. She pauses for a moment, looking to Sebastian for guidance. He mouths something to her, and she bows before Ikimono in much the same way. The two rise, and Peony turns to Sebastian.


    ¡°We¡¯d better get in there if we don¡¯t want to miss the show,¡± she says, ¡°DJ got us seats in the front row.¡±


    ¡°Alright, sounds good,¡± Sebastian replies.


    He looks down to Ikimono, who¡¯s turning to leave.


    ¡°Do you wanna sit with us, Ikimono?¡±


    Ikimono turns back, glancing down at the puppets in their shaking hands. ¡°I¡¯d like to, but I can¡¯t. I have to perform.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯ll watch for you, Ikimono,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°If you hear cheering, it¡¯s me, ok?¡±


    Ikimono nods, then scurries off behind the tent. Sebastian watches Ikimono duck away, wondering what drives them to haste.


    ¡°They seem nice,¡± Peony remarks.


    Sebastian nods. ¡°Yeah. I hope they¡¯re ok.¡±


    Peony turns into the gaping maw of the tunnel beside them, and Sebastian follows close behind. All around them, fabric striped with green and black drape a well-worn footpath. No dust rises from the ground now. Dimming Edison bulbs light the path, and the farther in their journey, the dimmer they grow. Peony looks back every now and then to make sure Sebastian hasn¡¯t stopped to look at something, but whenever she does, he¡¯s right behind her, holding onto the knot of her obi.


    When the cavernous tunnel gives way to the openness of the big top, Peony ducks by a yellow wall to begin her trek into the stands. On the far side of the room are the others, and as soon as DJ notices her, they give a small wave. She nods in reply, and follows the light of the flame around DJ¡¯s eye to their places.


    DJ¡¯s torch is excellent for lighting the stands, but is hardly even a spark in the vastness of the stage. That isn¡¯t what Peony minds. No, what Peony minds is the emptiness of the stands around her. The seats ought to be full of people she¡¯d have to apologize to for stepping on their toes. But no, the seats are even emptier than the stage. She debates turning back around to ask Sebastian if he feels the same, but she decides against it at the last second.


    Worse yet, despite the vast darkness of the stands, she feels as though a thousand pin sharp eyes are piercing into her. She attempts to ignore them, perhaps thinking them to be the peaceful staring of her friends, but she can¡¯t. And the more she feels the burning eyes, she begins to hear the words. A thousand hushed whispers echo in her ears, whispering of uncleanliness and sacred blood.


    Sebastian notices her start to hunch in on herself, as though she was about to get sick. He gently places a hand on her back, and she returns to her usual posture. For Peony, the voices have stopped.


    The two sit down on an old wooden bench beside their friends. Whatever was bound to happen was sure to happen now. Peony prays it will at least end well.


    The darkness of the stage in front of them wanes away by the yellowish glow of a stage light. The dust begins to kick up in a storm, with twinkles of glimmering light finding its way into the moon gray cloud. Lights surrounding the border between showmen and audience reveal blue curtains on the far side of the tent. There is barely any noise, save for their hushed whispers and gasps and the hum of the lights, but they feel as if they¡¯re trapped in the eye of a storm. They squint their eyes into the flurry, hoping to catch any glimpse of what may be inside. Just as soon as the storm begins, it vanishes. When the light rises to engulf the stage, there before them stands the Ringmaster himself, standing as proud as the sun on a cloudless day.


    ¡°Ladies, germs, and all other worms,¡± He booms, ¡°Welcome to the greatest illusion in the world!

 Tempting Fate

    They all erupt into cheers of thunderous applause. The Ringmaster looks at the group and finds himself almost puzzled. People don¡¯t really come to the circus anymore. And when they did, he knew. But these six had slithered up into the stands without any sign of them being there. He couldn¡¯t be dreaming, but for a moment he didn¡¯t believe it¡¯s real.


    He spins on his heels to face the group, now addressing them alone. ¡°We¡¯ve a wonderful show planned for you today, and I¡¯ll be your guide to show you the way. So hold tight to your seat and tighter to your mind, lest you lose yourself in the tricks we provide.¡±


    The six settle down into their seats. They whisper words of excitement to each other before Peony hushes them all. The lights around them fade into darkness as the Ringmaster leaves the stage, leaving behind only the small flickers of firefly tails. The smoke rises again, though this time daring not to enter the stands. When it clears, there stands before them the Escapist.


    Reader, I cannot tell you much more than what I am to tell you now; he will be listening to my every word. You give meaning to your shadows and demons despite them being no more than faceless ideas and silhouettes. What you believe to be there is not.


    The Escapist throws open his arms in exclamation, his cape fluttering out behind him. He bows, and they all clap for him. From the ground erupts a box decorated with velvet and brass studs stained with age. He presents a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and proclaims that with his hands bound, he will escape from the box. A wispy blue light removes his billowing cape, leaving it to lay on the ground. The Escapist turns around, and the light binds his hands behind his back. The lid of the box opens, and the smell of charcoal wafts in the dead air. The Escapist calls for the attention of the audience, then tosses himself in the box. The lid falls shut, and a loud groan echoes through the tent.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± Juniper whispers.


    ¡°What, the box?¡± Fuego whispers back.


    ¡°No, the green stuff on his hands.¡±


    For a moment, all seems well. The box isn¡¯t moving, and the sound of rustling within it draws the group forward from their seats. They sit, leaning against the barrier, waiting for the escapist to make his triumphant emergence.


    There is banging from within the box.


    The box begins to rattle as the banging grows louder. The voice within it begins to scream, albeit muffled from the velvet and old hardwood. The agonized hollering can only proclaim that something has gone wrong. Something has gone wrong, and that it can¡¯t breathe. The words crawl their way through the cracks of the box, but soon they¡¯re silenced by glimmering green slime which seals the lid shut. The banging continues, now nearly a faint pounding, and the words have turned to the growling and roaring of an animal. Then, with the force of a gunshot, the box flips over on its side.


    They all find themselves pressed to the back of their seats in shock. The banging only grows, but the frothing slime glues the box in place. Slowly, it creeps all over the old wood, forming cascading tendrils of mucus and phlegm that anchor it to six spots on the ground. The pounding slowly grows less violent, and the few of them that possess superb hearing find themselves met with muffled groaning from center stage.


    The ground around the box grows bumpy with little round figures that scurry as if they were beetles trapped just below the skin. From the six spots, metal prongs rise up, and their rust almost shines in the white, hot light. Ever so slowly, they grow from the height of saplings to the grand statue of oaks, though they never achieve the same thickness. With horrifying precision, they pierce the box like arrows. They dig their way inside the wooden cage, and soon the faint smell of bleach rises to fill the air. Now, there is finally silence.


    They all wait for the Escapist¡¯s next move. To emerge from the box, the side of the stage, to let out a word or a scream, anything. But the box remains silent, unmoving. Something drips from the puncture wounds, but it isn¡¯t the goo. Nothing about it says blood, either. They all lean forward from their seats, hungry for an answer. Before they can get any better look at it, the claws begin to drag it down beneath the dust. Like a fine machine, it slowly lowers the box into the cold, dark grave of the dust. All that remains are the fireflies which flit helplessly around the burial, slowly dropping dead themselves.


    Adderall and Fuego begin to clap, however awkwardly. The others slowly join in, not sure what else to do. They dare not to break their gaze with the stage.


    ¡°I, uh,¡± Peony stutters, her hands quivering as she tries to clap.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s the thought that counts,¡± Juniper replies.


    ¡°I guess,¡± Peony grimaces, thinking of how it would feel to be pricked with so many needles.


    ¡°What a wonderful attempt from our dearest Houdini,¡± The Ringmaster begins, walking atop the spot where the box had been dragged under. ¡°We could call this magician a wand-erring soul, couldn¡¯t we?¡±


    The group stares at him in silence. By now, they¡¯ve stopped clapping.


    The Ringmaster rubs the back of his neck. ¡°Tough crowd, I see. No matter, our next act is sure to make you burst with glee!¡±


    They all look at each other, each one feeling as if they¡¯ve been punched in the gut. They each wait for another to make a move to leave, but no one lifts so much as a finger.


    Next to the stage is a Juggler, wearing bright colors of every hue. She waves to the audience, and the group waves back. She doesn¡¯t notice. From the looks of things, she¡¯s too engrossed in her performance. The others don¡¯t mind.


    When she goes to pick up her juggling balls from the milk crate beside her, they¡¯re nowhere to be found. She scratches her head, then calls out to someone somewhere about her missing props. For a moment, all is silent. Then from nowhere, a voice replies to her, saying she has what she needs already.


    She scratches at her head again, then stops. Her eyes go wide with sudden realization, and she curiously scratches at her stomach. She hits a tear on her suit, and she peels it away to reveal her stomach, patterned with boils and scabs. She picks at a blemish, and soon it too begins to open. She sticks her fingers inside the infected hole, and with absent strength tears her flesh away like wet tissue paper. Her organs pulsate and writhe within her body. The Juggler, almost unfazed, traces her organs until she finds her stomach. She takes two fingers, jams them in the tissue of her stomach, and tears it wide open. Three colorful balls stained with acid fall to the ground. The Juggler hasn¡¯t even so much as looked down to dignify the gore. She continues her vacant stare into the audience as she picks up the balls and begins her routine.


    The group looks on in terror as she begins to collapse. Her feet hold strong, but everything else seems to go all in unison. From the hole in her stomach droops her intestines, which all slowly unwind and fall to the ground. Black dots, perhaps spiders, crawl up into the wound, and soon bits of muscle fall like rain. She has no blood to be found, and yet her hands go pale. She breathes harder and harder as the bottoms of her lungs begin to peek through the hole in her stomach. Her juggling slows, and her eyes begin to turn gray. She slowly starts to drop the balls, each one falling to the ground and slowly rolling away. She drops the last ball, then collapses in the dust. When she is at last fallen, the balls roll their way back into her stomach, and her eyes roll back into her head.


    Juniper almost faints. DJ puts two clawed hands over their mouth, trying to hold back the sharp nausea building in their throat. Adderall and Fuego mutter to themselves, occasionally breaking eye contact to look at the Juggler on the ground. Peony scratches the back of her void hand. Sebastian can¡¯t even move.


    The Ringmaster springs back onto the stage. ¡°Boy, you¡¯d really bust a gut at that one!¡±


    He looks at the group, each one of them ghastly pale. They can¡¯t even find the strength in them to clap for the Juggler.


    He frowns in anger. ¡°Come on, all of you, start having some fun!¡±


    They all look at each other, each waiting for another to do something. A word. A gag. An awkward applause. Something.


    Sebastian, however, can. And all he can do is stare. Staring at the motionless heap on the floor. The heap that should have been human. He waits like a vulture for a single sign of life. Anything, a rise of the chest, a twitch of a finger, something that would tell him she¡¯s alive. Just a little bit of hope. But try as he might, he can¡¯t find anything. Not even the balls that stuffed themselves back into her husk move. Nothing at all. She just lies there in the dust, her colors leaking away in the air, her figure melting away into the dust below her. First flesh, then organs, then bone.


    He laughs. Oh, how he laughs! He can¡¯t believe any of it, none of it at all! Wake up, wake up! He thinks to himself, but he can¡¯t. Oh no, he can¡¯t. He clutches his stomach with his arms, doubling over in hysteria as he grips himself tighter than a serpent¡¯s pitiful prey. Buds of tears bloom in his eyes as the voltage in his blood amps up. He won¡¯t look away from it. No, he can¡¯t look away from it.


    The others slowly turn their gaze to Sebastian. First Fuego, then Adderall, then Juniper. DJ debates putting their hand over his mouth to shut him up. Peony can¡¯t even bear to look. Between them all is stunned silence.


    ¡°Now there¡¯s someone among you who¡¯s in good spirits!¡± The Ringmaster grins, twirling his cane and pointing it at Sebastian. ¡°Now you know what you can do here, so as long as you can hear it.¡±


    The Ringmaster turns away from the group. Peony tugs at Sebastian¡¯s sleeve and hurriedly whispers to him.


    ¡°Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to die here, aren¡¯t we?¡± He giggles, still gazing off into the stage. ¡°Vi kommer til ? d?-¡±


    DJ reaches over and finally puts their hand over his mouth. For a moment, he thinks to scream, but the look in DJ¡¯s eyes hints at even graver consequences for doing so.


    ¡°Pull yourself together, Sebastian.¡± They growl, ¡°We¡¯re not going to die here. I¡¯ve told you this a thousand times, in the forests, on the train, and in the shadows of monsters, and I¡¯ll tell you again now, in this circus; I am going to make sure you stay alive.¡±


    Sebastian takes DJ¡¯s hand from his mouth. His voice is still quivering.


    ¡°You promise?¡±


    DJ sits back in their seat, slightly worried at the prospect of another promise.


    ¡°I promise,¡± They reply, hoping their hesitation doesn¡¯t show.


    ¡°Promise me that too,¡± Peony demands.


    ¡°Why? Haven¡¯t I already promised you that?¡±


    She hesitates. ¡°I want to be sure of it.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t want anything to happen to her,¡± Sebastian interrupts.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Sebastian and Peony look at each other in agreement.


    DJ sighs. ¡°Then yes, I promise that to you too, Peony.¡±


    The three turn back around to the stage. The sight in front of them is rather hazy, to say the least. Still, Juniper, Adderall, and Fuego are engrossed in their viewing of it.


    Adderall leans over to Fuego. ¡°He needs to get better props.¡±


    Fuego nods solemnly. ¡°Nothing here looks real. Like some sort of ten dollar haunted house.¡±


    DJ squints off into the fog. There¡¯s some sort of figure dangling from a tightrope. They can only make out shadows in the distance.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± DJ whispers.


    ¡°They just fell off the tightrope,¡± Fuego mutters in reply, ¡°They lost their head on the wire.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t even see the vertebrae in their neck,¡± Juniper grumbles, ¡°What kind of show is this?¡±


    DJ looks at the three as if they¡¯ve just uttered something in a foreign tongue. They look out into the mist, then back at them, then back out in the mist. They squint to no avail. Something could be out there--and they did believe something was out there--but whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t meant for them to see. The three beside them start to clap, and so do Sebastian and Peony. They clap in unison, and when the others begin to laugh, they follow their lead. All the laughter around them sounds genuine. Was there something they missed?


    The fog clears from the stage and the Ringmaster returns once more.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you all unwind your spools,¡± he begins ¡°But now¡¯s the time for something really cool! For our last act today, we¡¯ve got a small puppet show.¡±


    The Ringmaster turns up to the rafters, cupping his hand besides his mouth. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready up there, just go!¡±


    The Ringmaster walks back off into the stage, and the lights around him dim. A small spotlight shines up a halo above him, focusing on a much smaller stage. From behind him, there¡¯s a small round of applause.


    He turns around. It¡¯s only coming from one person. They¡¯re clapping and cheering, but nothing¡¯s even happened yet. And they¡¯re cheering a name. A name? What name is it? There¡¯s not supposed to be a name!


    ¡°Ikimono! Yeah, buddy!¡±


    Ikimono? He thinks to himself.


    He turns back and shrugs. What do I know?


    Up in the small stage, the puppet of a shepherd draped in gray lowers into a lovely hand-painted field. Cotton ball sheep surround him in the greenery. From above the stage rings a jaunty tune of bells and keys. Then, someone begins to speak.


    ¡°A long time ago, in a land far away, there lived a shepherd and his flock. He did not live very close to the town, but everyone agreed he did very good work for a shepherd.¡±


    The tune changes in harmony, and the sky behind them slowly darkens from a baby blue to a deep purple. Small lights twinkle against the background, and soon a pale circle descends from the stage above.


    ¡°But this was no ordinary shepherd,¡± The narration continues, ¡°This shepherd was a werewolf!¡±


    The music sharply changes to frantic banging and clanging. The shepherd flies out of the stage, leaving the puppet of a wolf to take its place. The wolf begins to thrash about, flying at the throats of the cotton-ball sheep. The sheep seem to leak some sort of red from their stuffing, and soon they too are flying from the stage. When the music calms again, only one sheep remains.


    ¡°Every full moon he¡¯d kill some of the flock, but one night, one sheep grew wise to his violence. He fled from the flock and into the town, hoping to warn the people of the shepherd.¡±


    The fields behind the sheep turn into the cobblestone roads and houses of a town as the sheep leaves behind the wolf. Paper people crowd along the bottom of the stage, and the narration starts once more.


    ¡°The people of the town were confused when they found a sheep roaming their streets. Something must have happened to the shepherd, they thought, and so they went out to investigate.¡±


    The sheep then leads the paper silhouettes out into the grassy fields once more, the full moon still gleaming in the sky. But when the wolf returns, it seems more terrified than before. Its button eyes no longer glimmer with the beastliness of a wolf, but like the marble eyes of a man.


    ¡°When the people of the town saw the werewolf, they were mad!¡± The narration exclaims, ¡°No wonder there was never enough mutton or fleece to go around! And not to mention, of course, a werewolf among them all. So, they all did what they knew was right¡­¡±


    From behind the paper silhouettes rises matches, needles, and forks. The wolf cowers in fear as the music slows to a halt.


    ¡°...And killed that werewolf right where he stood!¡±


    The music swiftly turns into shrill banging as the paper people lunge at the wolf. From a source unseen, a fire quickly erupts, catching the wolf by its tail and quickly overtaking its form. The sheep, the people, and the background fade away from sight as the wolf dangles in the middle of the stage.


    The wolf burning is a rather uncanny sight to behold. It just stands there, motionless, even as the banging and discord continues in the rafters above. It simply burns. Its arms and legs slowly disintegrate, and soon too, its body. As the head burns away, the glassy eyes of something once human refuse to burn. And when the last of the wolf is gone, they fall to the ground, hitting the Ringmaster on the head.


    The Ringmaster turns around in sharp anger. He turns up to look at the stage above him, and soon Ikimono falls into their stage on their noose.


    Ikimono dangles above the audience. They¡¯re all looking at them, and Ikimono knows their eyes are real. Finally, real eyes! They think to themselves. They take a deep breath and yell to the crowd.


    ¡°Last call for mortals, better cover your tracks,¡± He yells, ¡°Ganglionic dendrites get you stabbed in the back!¡±


    Ikimono scrambles back up into the rafters, hardly even offering a bow to the guests. The Ringmaster looks up into the stage, but his puppeteer is nowhere to be seen. The Ringmaster grumbles, then returns his attention to the audience.


    ¡°It says things sometimes that don¡¯t quite make sense,¡± He begins, ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to have a talk with it after this.¡±


    ¡°Talk?¡± DJ asks.


    The Ringmaster is startled. Audiences aren¡¯t supposed to respond with anything other than applause.


    ¡°Talk, yes, that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do,¡± He begins, his speech starting slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t think it ought to concern that of you.¡±


    ¡°None of the other performers have left this stage alive,¡± DJ growls, ¡°I want to be there when you talk to them.¡±


    ¡°Hey now, none of the others have died! And it¡¯s rather a stretch to presume they¡¯re alive.¡±


    ¡°One of them lost all their organs and the other one couldn¡¯t breathe. I¡¯m pretty sure breathing and having organs are quantifiers for being alive.¡±


    ¡°Having guts and a breath don¡¯t make someone that way. They¡¯ve neither blood in their veins nor thoughts in their brains.¡±


    ¡°And how, then, would you prove that your puppeteer is not alive?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a rather simple choice: outside of its act, it hasn¡¯t a voice.¡±


    ¡°Baloney!¡± Sebastian shouts, shooting up from his seat, ¡°They talked to me before the show! Plus, they¡¯re the one who led us to the tent. Now, I¡¯m no big city doctor, but I think being able to give verbal instructions means you have a voice.¡±


    The Ringmaster looks as though the information he¡¯s received was not the information he wanted. ¡°Even if the puppeteer could speak, it hasn¡¯t a name, so your argument¡¯s weak.¡±


    ¡°Their name is Ikimono!¡± Sebastian chides, ¡°They¡¯ve got a name, they¡¯ve got a voice. Surely, they must be alive. Alive by your standards, at least.¡±


    The Ringmaster takes a small step back in astonishment. He never named the creature. The creature never spoke to anyone other than him, and he daresay it was too afraid to speak to anyone else. Why would it say a word to this guest? It would never see him again, anyway. He had to be lying. But the neurons didn¡¯t lie, and neither did he. Could they see the neurons like he could? There was only one way to tell.


    ¡°Then that¡¯s simply a lie, my green-robed friend,¡± the Ringmaster replies with a coo. ¡°And I hope that this talk has made your thoughts emend.¡±


    Sebastian leans over on the wall, grabbing the top of it. Before he can hop over, Peony takes hold of his arm. Sebastian sighs. He sits back down in his seat, kicking at the dust on the ground. He grumbles something under his breath, but nobody pays any heed to it. Nobody could understand it, anyway.


    ¡°If I didn''t have the gift of temperance, I¡¯d argue it further,¡± DJ resumes, leaning forward in their seat. ¡°But listen, I¡¯m not letting them alone with you. Or anyone else, for that matter.¡±


    The Ringmaster¡¯s aggression slowly unfurls into a wicked grin. ¡°If you want to protect it, I¡¯ll give you the chance. Join the circus, dear dragon, and I¡¯ll let you be its lance.¡±


    DJ¡¯s eyes widen in shock. They look up to the fabric ceiling of the tent, hoping for some sort of shooting star to give them an omen. They can¡¯t see the skies from here. The only omens they can find are the ones in the beating of their heart. Do they dare trust them?


    They look at their friends, then to the upper stage, then at the Ringmaster. When they open their mouth, the words fall like ripened fruit from a tree.


    ¡°I accept your offer, Ringmaster. I cannot speak on behalf of my company, but I will remain here. Whatever catastrophe, misfortune, or tragedy it brings, I accept it.¡±


    The others look at DJ in stunned silence. After all this, after every bit of pain in the show, and yet they still went through with it. DJ isn¡¯t one to back down from a joke, not one to not commit to the bit, but this?


    They all wait for someone else to stand beside DJ. Even DJ waits for someone to join their side. For the longest moment, it seems like nobody would.


    Sebastian stands up too.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join. I can¡¯t let anything happen to DJ or my little buddy.¡±


    Then, shaking, Peony rises. On instinct, she gently takes his hand.


    ¡°Sebastian, I¡¯m coming with you.¡±


    Juniper hops up from her seat. She¡¯s a lot more plucky than the others.


    ¡°You all are lucky my dad won¡¯t mind it if I leave.¡±


    Then, Adderall and Fuego rise to stand.


    ¡°This is gonna be so much fun!¡± Adderall cheers.


    The Ringmaster smiles. He¡¯s gotten so much more than what he bargained for. So, so much more.


    His voice booms over the stage. ¡°I¡¯m very much so honored by your triumphant decision, but first I must go out and grab compulsory provisions. It really isn¡¯t much at all, just for record keeping. Like, what all of your acts will be and where you will be sleeping.¡±


    The Ringmaster turns around and trots off back into the darkness. The six stand in their places, each in varying degrees of anxiety. DJ looks at the dust on the stage, and a little tuft of smoke rises from their snout.


    ¡°Did we do the right thing?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°I did,¡± DJ replies, looking up at him. ¡°I can¡¯t say the same for you.¡±


    ¡­


    Ikimono slides down the silken rope and hops down on the ground. Their puppets jingle inside their satchel. For once, they¡¯re satisfied with the show. Hopefully they got through to the people. Maybe, they hoped, those booming voices below were them finally standing up for themselves. How wonderful that would be, to finally put him in his place. They smile, free from pain. For a moment they ignore the looming shadows of the boxes beside them and skip merrily to the exit.


    The clicking of dry joints and the stomping of boots halts Ikimono in their tracks. They didn¡¯t do anything wrong, did they? Well, the message, maybe, but-- oh god, the message! He wasn¡¯t dumb. If there¡¯s one thing the Ringmaster isn¡¯t, it¡¯s dumb. He knows, oh, he knows! They lower their head in shame and brace themself.


    ¡°So, you have a name? That I didn¡¯t know. I don¡¯t remember calling you,¡± the voice scoffs, ¡°Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono spins around to face the towering figure behind them. They fall to their knees, clenching their fists together, blood already welling up at their eyes. The figure stares, his crescent-moon eyes not even blinking.


    ¡°I came up with it on the spot!¡± They plead, grabbing their arms to give themselves a hug. ¡°I was asked for a name and I didn¡¯t know what to do! I swear, I didn¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°Do I need to remind you of your place in this world?¡± The Ringmaster continues, ¡°You tell your stories and you let yourself be unfurled. And was that name in the language I barred? Answer me frankly, lest you end up with scars!¡±


    ¡°It was! It was!¡± They sob, blood trickling down their face and into their holes. ¡°I was nervous, it was the only thing I could think to do!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not lying to me, are you? You better not be, you know what I can do.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t lie to you, Sunshine. You know I can¡¯t. I bet you even know how scared I am right now. And you can¡¯t even see me crying!¡±


    Sunshine grins. ¡°That¡¯s a good creature, now listen to me. You¡¯ve got quite a crowd of supporters, I see. They have trust in you, why I don¡¯t know, so you and I are gonna give them a show. You gather them all within the pack, and you figure out how they think and they act. Then teach me to know what they are and they dread, and I¡¯ll figure out some way to get in their heads. if you won¡¯t help me, I¡¯ll still have my way, and you¡¯ll end up with more trouble, I dare say. Go find your new puppets, and string them with care. It¡¯ll be one hell of a show, so get on out there!¡±


    Ikimono shivers and nods their head. ¡°Yes, Sunshine. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±

 Bags of Bones Seem So Unsafe (Its Semi-Serious!)

    DJ climbs over the barrier, taking one last look at the seats behind them as they fall down to the dusty ground. For a minute, they stand in the cloud of dust at their feet. They¡¯re as silent as a mourner standing before the coffin.


    ¡°Listen,¡± DJ says, suddenly hushed as they turn their gaze back to their friends. ¡°You know that little bit of warmth in your chest that you get when we¡¯re all laughing together or when we¡¯ve just won a battle?¡±


    The others stare at them in bewilderment.


    DJ doesn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡°That¡¯s called Hope. Don¡¯t lose it.¡±


    They look back out into the shadows, squinting as if they were looking for a flawed brush stroke in a painting.


    DJ growls. ¡°If you get lost, follow the darkness, not the light.¡±


    Before anyone can ask questions, DJ offers their hand out to help the others into the stage. First Juniper, who nearly leaps out of the stands, then Adderall and Fuego, who shake with both anxiety and excitement. Sebastian comes after, marveling in awe as the distortions of the stands melts away as his feet hit the ground. Last of all, Peony, who stands frozen behind the barrier.


    DJ and Peony look at each other. DJ is completely resigned, but Peony won¡¯t let herself go that easily. She practically begs with her stare, and DJ can¡¯t help but remain silent in pity. She wishes she had the voice to tell them what she feels around her, about the needle-sharp eyes and phantom hands reaching for her. She has no doubt DJ would believe her, but she doesn¡¯t trust her tongue to handle her own words.


    DJ knows better. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Peony?¡±


    Peony looks down at the ground, a sudden, stinging flash of heartache rippling in her chest. ¡°Nothing. Just nervous, that¡¯s all.¡±


    She reaches out her inky hand and DJ takes it, helping her down to the ground. When she turns around to face them again, DJ sighs.


    ¡°I know,¡± they whisper, ¡°And I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Peony nods, but she knows there¡¯s more. She looks out at the others, then back at DJ.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, can I hug you?¡± She asks, ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be a bother.¡±


    DJ opens their arms and takes her in them. They rest their head atop hers, and for a slight moment she feels safe.


    ¡°If anything happens to you, find me,¡± DJ says.


    Peony nods, then lets go of DJ.


    DJ opens their wings once more, and soon the others come flocking to their side. It¡¯s never a bad idea to be under their wings. Besides, the stage being clear didn¡¯t mean nothing could be lurking in the shadows in the distance.


    DJ finds the stage to be rather odd. It¡¯s much too big for the tent that surrounds it, even by circus standards. The dust below them isn¡¯t the same gray as the dust outside either; it¡¯s a sort of deeper brown. Even the air around them is off, and for a split second DJ thinks it smells oddly of blood and mildew. The shadows just out of reach don¡¯t do much for comforting them either, as though someone could perhaps creep behind them and stab them in the back.


    And DJ is right, it¡¯s the Ringmaster, of course. Somehow he had managed to slither up behind them while they all stood in awe of the stage. He clears his throat and they all jump back in surprise. The Ringmaster laughs at them.


    The absence of fog does wonders for the eyes. Now, as they stand at his level, they can finally see him.


    To call him tall is an understatement, perhaps even larger than life would be an insult. He lumbers over them like the gaunt remains of a dead tree; four dead branch arms poise politely behind his back. All but one, of course, which held a orb-topped cane with the grace of a dancer. His fingers are pins and needles, bending at too many joints to fully surround the top of his cane. His cane was not the only thing about him that screamed grandeur. His deep gray coat feels more befitting of a prince than of a mere ringmaster, with lapels and inner coattails of bright green and teal. He opts for shorts rather than longer pants, perhaps to show off the outlines of tibias and fibulas behind patterned hosiery.


    Perhaps the most eye-catching thing about him is his face. The haze of the stands made him appear as if he were the paramnesic remnant of a dream within lucidity. Now, within the stage, he is clear to the eye. He lacks flesh, the polished opal of his skull glimmering in the light from above. Haphazardly graceful patterns in all different hues adorn his face, and behind his skeletal smile are rows upon rows of jagged teeth. His brilliantly green hair frames his face as though it were an oil painting.


    A wiser soul would have been terrified at such a sight. They would have cursed the beast with every word their tongue could sew, then run like a hare to the treeline. But something about him, to these heroes at least, isn¡¯t scary. The phantasmagorical sight of the Ringmaster only drives their curiosity. And sure, he is a bit scary. Perhaps he even resembles a nightmare. But does a parent believe a child when they point to the shadows in their room?


    ¡°So, tell me now the talents you keep,¡± he begins, his voice almost human, ¡°So I can tell you what rewards you will reap.¡±


    The others look to DJ for some sort of guidance. DJ, knowing they have no other choice, steps forward. They leave a meter of space between themself and the Ringmaster, and another meter behind to their friends.


    DJ is more of a beast than a human, perhaps what one would call a dragon. Their body has been ravaged by war, and it seems as though every faded scar on their body is crying out in subdued agony. Half of their face has been burned away by the eternal flame which glows around their left eye. Their left horn had been broken too, perhaps from the same incident as their eye. Along the bridge of their nose, two scars ache as if they were cut just a moment ago.


    As they walk, the brass beads woven in their dreadlocked hair clink like coins in a bag. Their tail swishes in malcontent, carelessly tossing about another flame. They didn¡¯t care. They know their jacket won¡¯t catch, and neither will the layers of their skirt. Even though they could never be close to being as tall as the Ringmaster, they could both look each other in the eye. And even though the stars in DJ¡¯s eyes wish only for peace, for once they gave a warning glare of a Glasgow kiss.


    ¡°My name is DJ,¡± they begin, a voice thicker than lava and deeper than the sea. ¡°I haven¡¯t the time to tell you of all my travels, but I will tell you of the islands from which I inherit my creed. I come from an island of warriors who use their talents in both battle and showmanship. I have learned both talents throughout my life, and I would like to use them here.¡±


    ¡°Level your words through your cryptic tongue,¡± the Ringmaster grins, ¡°Just show me what you want to get done.¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°Right. Just trying to be formal, you know? Meet you where you are.¡±


    The Ringmaster seems unimpressed. DJ clears their throat and mutters something under their breath. They reach up to their back and draw a sword with a long, battered blade. The metal is stained and jagged, and yet somehow looks just as foreboding as one newly forged. Between the blade and the handle is the skull of a snake.


    ¡°This is my sword. I¡¯ve killed a couple of gods with this. But I can do tricks with it too, watch.¡±


    They tap two claws against the handle, and the blade ignites into flames. Ikimono jumps back, and even the Ringmaster recoils in astonishment at the heat. They grin, then toss their sword into the air. It spins, lighting the air around them with hues of orange and red. When it falls again, they catch it effortlessly, nodding at their work. Then, they raise it high above their head and slash at the dust, leaving behind a ditch and lingering licks of flame. The fire on the sword dies away, and they put it back onto their back as if nothing had happened at all.


    ¡°So yeah,¡± they continue, ¡°That¡¯s my thing. Hope that¡¯s a little more straightforward.¡±


    The Ringmaster gawks in fear. He taps his fingers against the orb atop his cane, trying to organize his thoughts again.


    ¡°My my, what a trick, I thought I would faint¡± he begins, however anxiously, ¡°You¡¯re a master of your craft, truly something great. You¡¯ve blown me away with your dance of flame, and I¡¯d be honored to employ both you and your blade.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± DJ says, giving him a nod, ¡°But this is nothing compared to my friends.¡±


    They take a step to the side, leaving the spot behind the line open for whomever was brave enough to be next. Their footprints leave burns in the dust, and the trench where they swung their sword is wasted charcoal. The rest of them stand in awe, but soon Adderall makes her way to the spot, Fuego in tow.


    Adderall and Fuego are quite a sight. They¡¯re stark opposites of each other, and yet whoever looks at them can¡¯t shake the feeling that they ought to be the same. Perhaps it would be better to start with their similarities. They both have their hair dyed, though while Fuego keeps it a mossy green, Adderall¡¯s so impatient that rainbows of color bleed through rushed dye jobs. They both have something odd on their backs, though Fuego has wings of autumn flowers and Adderall has bubblegum stegosaurus spines. They both always carry something magical on them, though Fuego¡¯s pack of Tarot cards and bags of spices have nothing on Adderall¡¯s bag of fidget toys and stims. And while they both keep their looks organized, Fuego looks like a creature of woodland folklore right down to the blooming antlers, and Adderall is something straight out of a candy store.


    They each take their spot on one of the carbon footprints. Adderall on the left, and Fuego on the right. Their thoughts are abuzz with excitement, and for a second they forget that nobody else should hear them. They pause and giggle awkwardly to themselves. Then, Adderall begins again.


    ¡°I¡¯m Adderall,¡± she begins, her voice sounding as though it came from a computer, ¡°And this is Fuego.¡±


    Ve waves, awkwardly. For as tall as ve is, ve can hardly even see past the Ringmaster¡¯s chest.


    ¡°We¡¯re good at just about anything and everything you can give us!¡± Adderall continues, ¡°But luckily for you, you won¡¯t be the one doing the thinking today.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be your resident knife experts,¡± Fuego adds, vens voice sounding more like a rustle of trees than a voice, ¡°I can throw, she can be the target.¡±


    ¡°And if you hit her, what will you endure?¡±


    Adderall laughs. It takes the Ringmaster by surprise.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that at all,¡± Fuego continues, ¡°We¡¯ve been doing this forever. I¡¯ve never missed a target, and I¡¯ve certainly never hit Adderall.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t true. It held a little bit of water, though. Fuego had a good deal of practice at throwing things at Adderall, but knives were never among those things. Creo would have fainted if he ever caught wind of ven doing that. And if King Frog knew, ve¡¯d be up the river in a heartbeat. But the two of them know enough about knives and had read enough books about ninjas and assassins that they think they could pull it off. And frequent friendly nerf wars with Juniper and the other castle-goers never hurt either.


    ¡°Well, knife throwing¡¯s quite the dangerous stunt,¡± the Ringmaster says, ¡°But I¡¯m sure the audience will enjoy the thrill of the hunt.¡±


    They turn to each other and high five. They return to the supposed safety of their thoughts to rejoice again. Fuego looks behind ven and gives Juniper a thumbs-up. Then, they skip off to where DJ stands, feeling as though they¡¯ve just graduated to the big leagues.


    Juniper, taking her signal, strides up to the scorched spot and gives a small courtesy. She stands proudly with one foot in each of the footprints. The Ringmaster has to bow to even see her. She¡¯s simply that small.


    Stuffed ones in Portar were usually small like that. You see, Juniper isn¡¯t human-like the way everyone else was. Somewhere down in one of the middle realms, she is the toy of some child who loved her so very much they made her a soul. Half of one, at least. One half up here, and one half down there.


    Juniper is a lot like that, half-and-half. One half a bat, and one half a cat. One half brown fur, one half pink fur. One half punk, with a safety pinned jacket and denim skirt, and one half fem, with the two embroidered with lilies and orchids. Perhaps the only thing that might have tipped the scales one way or the other would be her little wire-framed glasses. But in spite of her halves, she was whole.


    Her voice is just as squeaky as you¡¯d expect it to be. ¡°I¡¯m Juniper, and it¡¯s nice of you to let us perform here at your circus.¡±


    The Ringmaster nods. ¡°All the better to have you here, my dear.¡±


    ¡°Now, would you say you¡¯re in need of a silk, hoops, or otherwise acrobatic performance?¡± She continues, ¡°Because if memory serves me right, you lost both your acrobats in one go.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps lost isn¡¯t the best word to use,¡± he replies, ¡°I got rid of them, and now I have you.¡±


    Juniper pauses in surprise before speaking again. She doesn¡¯t dare object to his statement.  ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been training for quite a long time for a proper performance on the silks. So, what do you say?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I need much else to say,¡± he smiles. ¡°Juniper, Juniper, welcome to the stage!¡±


    She grins and flicks her tail, her excitement barely contained. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t let you down!¡±


    She turns to leave, but the Ringmaster extends his hand out to her. She stares at it for a moment, then reaches out a paw to shake with. His hands are unbearably cold.


    When she finally jumps off to the side, only Peony and Sebastian remain. They stand in the shadowy space between the stands and the Ringmaster, nervously awaiting some sort of queue to proceed. Sebastian catches a glimpse of Ikimono, who offers no comfort to the pair.


    ¡°Well?¡± Peony sighs.


    ¡°Better now than never,¡± Sebastian nods.


    The two walk forward up into the scorched area, neatly standing in the scorched outlines of DJ¡¯s talonous feet. They both bow, and the ringmaster returns the gesture.


    Peony stands in point, holding her hands and her tentacles by her stomach. Sebastian holds his hands together just as Peony does, occasionally glancing over at her to make sure he¡¯s doing it right, and for once the usually comfortable weight of his cloak is crushing.


    Peony exudes a sort of calmness in her presence. Her appearance alone conjured the word flowing to the minds of all who looked at her, and one would be reasonable to think she might have been royalty in a past life. Her dark kimono drapes over her like mist on a mountain, and her cherry blossom hair flows down her back like a calm river¡¯s water. From her back protrudes two inky black tentacles, and she holds them just as neatly as her hands. She is as wine dark as the sea, except perhaps for the shimmering tattooed sigils on her void arm and tentacles.


    Sebastian is less calming than his friend, though perhaps that is ok. If Peony is the calmness of the night sky, then Sebastian is the warm welcome of a summer¡¯s day. He¡¯s much taller than Peony, though his height is more born of awkwardness than dizziness. The grayness of wires wrap around him like strangler vines, and they hum around him wherever he goes. Atop his head are a pair of fluffy antennae which sprout from his cloudy hair, and atop them a golden halo. When he stretches his wings in anxiety, sigils of eyes curiously poke between the folds.


    ¡°My name is Peony, and this is Sebastian,¡± She begins, ¡°We¡¯re pleased to make y¡¯all¡¯s acquaintance.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, but you needn¡¯t be formal,¡± the Ringmaster begins, ¡°Tell me who you are just like normal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that, Mr. Ringmaster,¡± Peony continues, ¡°That would be very rude of me.¡±


    The Ringmaster nods. She¡¯s onto something, and he¡¯d be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t afraid of her, at least a little.


    ¡°I digress,¡± she continues, ¡°Sebastian and I are both sorcerers, I study necromancy and divination, and he studies illusion and enchantment. We were hoping to put on some sort of necromancy based act.¡±


    ¡°Necromancy? I must say, that¡¯s a rather bold act,¡± he replies with a tremble in his voice, ¡°But I think it will go well, as a matter of fact.¡±


    ¡°If something goes wrong, Sebastian can take over for me. It¡¯ll still look like there¡¯s necromancy involved, but it¡¯ll be an illusion.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The Ringmaster turns his attention to Sebastian. ¡°Do tell me, Sebastian, what tricks can you cast? What other spells have you both amassed?¡±


    ¡°Usually, when I cast spells, I have to sing a song to get them to work,¡± He replies, ¡°I don¡¯t mind it, and what¡¯s nice is that I can work that into our act, too.¡±


    ¡°Now, I¡¯m not always a skeptic when magic comes to mind, but could you two show me your skills if you¡¯d be so inclined?¡±


    Peony turns to Sebastian, and the two mutter something to each other before turning back around to face the ringmaster.


    ¡°You first, Sebastian.¡±


    Peony takes a step back, and Sebastian clears his throat. Then, with a smile neatly painted on his face, he begins to sing.


    We¡¯re whalers on the moon


    We carry a harpoon


    But there ain¡¯t no whales


    So we tell tall tales


    And sing our whaling tune


    At once, the visage of a blue whale forms in starry lines in the air. Brilliant hues of teal and purple fill in the lines like water in a glass. The whale breaches from the dim light, then throws itself back into nothingness, splashing glimmering light all around it. The smell of sea breeze fills the tent. The remaining light flows to the floor and collects into puddles. Adderall stomps her foot in one, but none of the light splashes or ripples. The faint noise of a whale¡¯s call rings in the silence.


    The Ringmaster looks back at Sebastian with delight. He grins, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.


    ¡°What a wonderful voice and talent you own!¡± He beams, ¡°But I know you¡¯ll do better when you¡¯re not alone. You there, Miss Peony, now show me yours. Though yours is no doubt just as impressive, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Sebastian and Peony switch spots with each other. Sebastian stands a little further back than where Peony stood from him, and Peony stands in the dead center of the scorched footprints. She takes a deep breath, then another, then says something in a language no one understands.


    A dark mist forms around her, and swirling colors arise like vines from the ground beneath her. Her eyes fall into an inky black, and fog rolls out of her mouth and spills on the floor. The fog turns a toxic hue of green as it falls to the ground, and slowly wafts its way towards the Ringmaster. Sulfur burns at his eyes and claws at his nose, but he hardly notices. It¡¯s the color that he minds. At first, he¡¯s intrigued by it, then terrified of it. He looks up from the collecting fog, and stares into Peony¡¯s eyes, slowly overcome by a feeling of dread.


    All of a sudden, the ghastly fear leaves his face. He closes his eyes and collapses to the ground. Ikimono looks over his body, both terrified and excited by the prospect of him being dead. He hesitates for a moment, taking a quick glance at Peony and Sebastian, then gently kicks at his shoulder. The Ringmaster shoots up, panting for air and holding his forehead in his hand. Even seated, he¡¯s as tall as Peony.


    ¡°My my, what a nightmare I¡¯ve just had!¡± He exclaims, ¡°How could anyone conjure something so bad? I saw swirling darkness and fires of hell, I heard echoes of voices ring like thousands of bells. If I stayed and saw more, why, I would¡¯ve gone mad. But if that¡¯s what you can do, then boy, am I glad!¡±


    Ikimono grumbles under their breath. The Ringmaster doesn¡¯t hear it. He¡¯s too busy trying to muster himself back up, smiling and beaming at the good work of the sorcerers.


    ¡°What wonderful work you both can do,¡± He concludes, ¡°It would be my greatest honor to host you two.¡±


    Peony sighs in relief, and Sebastian flaps his hands in excitement. They take a moment for their excitement, then bow again to the Ringmaster. They walk over to the rest of the group, nestling in as if they had always been standing by their side. The Ringmaster turns to face them, gently tapping his fingers on his cane in scheming. Ikimono stays right where they have been, behind the Ringmaster, hoping no one notices them.


    ¡°I extend to you all a formal welcome,¡± the Ringmaster begins, ¡°I hope in my circus you find yourselves home. My name is Sunshine, and I run the show. This one right beside me is, err--¡±


    Sunshine looks down at the creature standing behind him. He gives it a stern look, and it walks up to his side.


    ¡°--Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono is definitely a face you wouldn¡¯t want to see at a circus. Unless you were detectives looking for a missing body, of course. Black mold dots their rotted, green flesh, looking more like freckles at first glance. Their hair is the rusted brown of old blood, and has gone much too long without a good brushing or cutting. Their eyelids are tacked open with silver stitches, and their bloodshot eyes have gone to beige.


    Ikimono waves, however nervously. Their fingers are missing skin. They grin, and in their mouth are the fangs of a vampire.


    ¡°Now, it might not look like much to you,¡± Sunshine continues, ¡°But it¡¯s sharp and it¡¯s swift and its heart¡¯s good and true. It¡¯ll be showing you the ropes around here, but I¡¯m sure it will befriend you if your intentions are clear. So Ikimono, why don¡¯t you show them the way? You know where to find me right where I stay.¡±


    Ikimono turns to look at the group. They¡¯re just their height, and yet they feel so small. And their gazes, not quite piercing, but not soft either. They suppose that that¡¯s just what curiosity does to someone. They turn around to Sunshine for comfort, but Sunshine¡¯s gaze is even more uncomfortable.


    They turn back, and he finally finds their looks comforting. They¡¯re friendly, sure, but trustworthy? They want to trust them, and some crackling voice deep down in their rotted little heart shouted that they were meant to be trusted. They look each one of them in the eyes, and none of them have anything but kindness inside them. Even the dragon, DJ, who looks as though they¡¯re ready to kill someone. They want to trust them, but they know it won¡¯t work. It will be broken, it has to be broken, and if they didn¡¯t break it, Sunshine would. Oh god, why did they come here? What willed them? Do they not know the danger they¡¯re in? Do they look at Sunshine with the same fear they do? You¡¯re going to die, wake up! Wake up!


    ¡°Oh, damn the sun!¡± Ikimono mutters, ¡°Why them and not me?¡±


    Ikimono takes one last look at Sunshine before sulking to the group. They don¡¯t belong there, or at least they thought that way. The others fit like a glove, and here they are, just a hunk of dead weight.


    ¡°Hey, Ikimono,¡± DJ says, smiling, ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had a name.¡±


    Ikimono forgot they had one too. ¡°I do?¡±


    DJ laughs a little. ¡°I like you, Ikimono. Say, how do we get out of this place?¡±


    Ikimono holds eye contact with DJ, as though perhaps beaming something into their skull. The woods, the edge of the forests. Start running and don¡¯t look back.


    They hold back their thoughts. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    Ikimono turns and walks along the curtain, leading the others to the alcove backstage. Only one way in, only one way out.


    ¡°Auf Wiedersehen! Au Revoir!¡± Sunshine calls, ¡°Don¡¯t fall when you shoot for the stars!¡±


    Ikimono continues their trek across the stage and into the back. The others follow close behind. There aren¡¯t quite butterflies in their stomach, but caterpillars crawling about and making a feast of the lining and wine of the acid. The chattering behind them as the others investigate the boxes and props doesn¡¯t help either.


    They don''t quite know what to make of them all. They¡¯re all so strange. Of everyone who¡¯s come by the circus, they¡¯re the most colorful. Of everyone to pass through, they seemed the most respectable, too. DJ is the type that would protect them all, Juniper looked like she had a few too many jokes burning in her brain, Fuego and Adderall definitely had stories to tell, Peony was just cool, and Sebastian--


    ¡°Heyo!¡±


    Ikimono jumps at the sound of Sebastian¡¯s voice. They turn around, and Sebastian is standing a little too close for comfort.


    ¡°Hi,¡± they mutter.


    ¡°Sorry if I startled you,¡± Sebastian continues, ¡°You just looked like you were zoning off, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Zoning off? They think to themself.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± they mutter again.


    ¡°Say, you¡¯ve been here for a while, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    They nod.


    ¡°Maybe after we get settled down where we¡¯re staying, you could show us around a little?¡± he suggests, ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a circus, there¡¯s bound to be lots to do! And you probably know this place like the back of your hand.¡±


    Ikimono looks down at the back of their holey hand, then back up at Sebastian. He recoils in surprise, and opens and closes his mouth like a fish trying to breathe in open air.


    --Sebastian¡¯s an idiot.


    ¡°Well,¡± he nervously laughs, still trying to keep his tone positive, ¡°It¡¯s the thought that counts.¡±


    Ikimono shrugs. ¡°Ok.¡±


    They lead the others out from the darkness of the tent and into the alleyway. The others are in awe of how simple the midway is now. Sure, it''s a labyrinth with all the alleyways, corners, and stands, but it¡¯s one that can be navigated. Especially since all the crowds have fled. Were there ever any crowds at all? It¡¯s tough to say, and perhaps even harder to remember. Maybe it was just the excitement after all.


    Deep down in Peony¡¯s mind, though, something tugs at her consciousness like the strings of a puppet. Something is deeply wrong here. She can¡¯t quite put her finger on it, but she knows something is off. The look of Sunshine, the acts of the show, even the newfound clarity of the surroundings screams danger. And yet, she doesn¡¯t dare say anything. She knows she¡¯s walking along like a lamb to the slaughter, but she does not so much as bleat in distress.


    She looks down at Ikimono. They¡¯re not a danger, not to her at least, but they have to know something. If she was going to get anywhere, they¡¯d lead her there, and if Sebastian can get them to open up, there¡¯s no doubt she can too.


    ¡°How long have you been here, Ikimono?¡±


    ¡°Long enough,¡± Ikimono replies.


    ¡°Long enough for what?¡± she asks again.


    ¡°To know,¡± Ikimono replies.


    Ikimono thinks they know what she¡¯s asking, but even they can¡¯t be sure. Plus, why would they risk saying anything when Sunshine could be in earshot?


    Peony shrugs off the dismissal. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ve gotta be here a while before directions come easy to you. I just hope it doesn¡¯t take as long to find my way as I think it will.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Ikimono replies. They wish they could say more, but they worry they¡¯ve annoyed her too much to speak.


    Ikimono leads them all past the midway and into a fairly well lit alley. They snake their way through the back passage, which slowly grows darker with every step. When they emerge on the other side, it appears as though they¡¯ve entered into a new realm entirely. Neurons consume everything in sight with their electric tendrils. Everything, old stands, abandoned houses, animal cages with rusted bars, falls victim to the overgrowth. When they look up here, though, they can see the skies above. The comfort of constellations in the upper seas distracts most of them for a minute or two. Just a little something to remind them of home.


    The seas aren¡¯t of their concern now. Ikimono leads them to a grand tree, twisted with ganglions and nerves as far as the eye can see. Dendrites grow off of the tree like branches, and the glimmering lights of thought blossom at the ends, cascading down to the slithering axons below. A staircase made of old bone coils around the trunk of the tree, and boxcars of wood and keratin fibers hang from the branches. Truely, it lived up to the name of an apartment complex.


    Ikimono begins up the stairs, looking back every now and then to make sure everyone is still following them. It''s a foolish concern. The bones creak and groan with every step, but Ikimono knows better than to fear they¡¯ll crumble underfoot. They continue up, so high up they worry the others will begin to grow anxious of the fall, until at last they come to a group of boxcars at the top of the tree.


    The boxcars are arranged neatly in a half circle, suspended precariously from the withering branches of the ganglion around them. Each one is faded, and for a moment Fuego worries about them crumbling underfoot. The musty odor of fungus wafts through the air, and a chill lingers overhead. Sebastian thinks it''s perfect sleeping for the summer.


    ¡°There¡¯s one here for each of you,¡± Ikimono says, trying to muster up the courage to speak louder, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter which one you pick. When you open the door, it¡¯ll be yours.¡±


    ¡°Each of us, you say?¡± DJ says, looking at the cul-de-sac, ¡°I only see four. Of course, I could see Adderall and Fuego as one person, but after that there¡¯s only enough for three of us.¡±


    Ikimono¡¯s expression drops. He¡¯s already marked someone. Is that why they saw the cage? They try their best not to look at DJ too hard. They¡¯d never let them sleep in a cage like that, not with wings that big. Think, Ikimono, think!


    ¡°Maybe Peony and I could take a room together?¡±


    Ikimono looks up at Sebastian, who seems genuine in his proposition.


    ¡°You could but,¡± Ikimono stutters, ¡°But I don¡¯t want you to get yourselves in trouble or anything. Sunshine¡¯s lenient, sometimes, but, uh, not that lenient.¡±


    ¡°Oh god, no,¡± Peony sputters, ¡°We¡¯re not like that at all.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good friends, that¡¯s all,¡± Sebastian replies, his face going bright pink, ¡°We live together outside of here, but we¡¯re just friends, nothing more.¡±


    ¡°I mean, sure, but if there¡¯s only one bed in there?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll happily sleep on the floor,¡± Sebastian smiles.


    ¡°Sebastian, you can¡¯t sleep on the floor,¡± Peony scolds, ¡°You never rest well when you sleep on the floor.¡±


    ¡°As long as I have some pillows to pile up and a blanket or two, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he reassures, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me too much.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Peony sighs, ¡°We¡¯ll room together.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Ikimono nods. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here for a bit.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s your car?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Ikimono starts, ¡°Back over here. It¡¯s the only one.¡±


    He points down a pathway covered with mangled branches.


    ¡°Oh, nice!¡± Sebastian grins, ¡°We¡¯re not too far away.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ikimono adds, ¡°But go make your home first.¡±


    As Sebastian and Peony turn away to go into the cul-de-sac, Ikimono leans against the tree.


    I hope I¡¯m not being dismissive, they think to themselves.


    As Sebastian walks away into the clearing with Peony, a sudden nervousness overcomes him.


    I hope I¡¯m not being overbearing, he thinks to himself.


    As Peony walks alongside Sebastian to a gray boxcar overlooking a stream below, she can¡¯t help but find herself tense.


    I hope I¡¯m not being mean to them, she thinks to herself.


    Peony reaches up to the brass doorknob with slight hesitation. Sebastian puts his hand over Peony¡¯s void hand, his much-too-long fingers blending in rather well with her oozing, black hand. They look at each other, and their anxiety starts to drift away. They turn the knob together, and when the door opens, the room unfurls into life.


    A large lump of cotton grows into a vast, green bed, its sheets sprouting from the center and neatly falling over the sides. Shelves slide out from the walls, and pages come together from the cracks between the panels of wood to form volumes of all kinds. A door forms from scraps of neurons by the back corner of the boxcar, slowly illuminating as a room grows inside. A basket of pillows and blankets slides out from a corner by the door, and two dolls come to rest upon the woven lid. In the last corner, a table and cushion seats rise from the floor, and a teapot falls down from the ceiling over a small coal heater from within the table. Two bowls mark the seating places for the two friends, and all seems to settle.


    The two hesitate before exploring the room further. They silently decide to stay near the door before exploring further. Sebastian lifts the lid from the basket and reaches his hands in. The blankets are soft, and very much so, and he can¡¯t help but burry his hands between their folds. Peony reaches up behind him to examine a book from the wall, and finds it''s an old grimoire full of odd spells. Sebastian puts away the blankets and walks over to the table with the teabowls and finds something is already boiling inside of the pot. He thinks he smells vanilla and cloves, but he isn¡¯t sure. By the bed, Peony finds a dulcimer standing by a stack of sheet music. She strums a note and finds that it¡¯s impeccably tuned. But the two turn their eyes away from the mundane curiosities and to the glowing door which spawned in the back corner.


    ¡°You know,¡± Sebastian begins, ¡°There¡¯s a story Mr. Crick used to tell me about a door that led to some other world. It was colorful, lively, fantastical even, but the thing that lived in it fed on people''s souls.¡±


    ¡°Sounds terrifying,¡± Peony replies, ¡°Definitely not something I want to hear before going into a magical door.¡±


    ¡°It sounded a lot nicer when he told it,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°And hey, maybe what¡¯s there won¡¯t be evil.¡±


    ¡°One can only hope.¡±


    Sebastian takes hold of the handle and gives it a slow turn. With a click and a loud groan, it opens.


    The two only look inside at first. Something about the darkness is inviting, yet frigidly terrifying. Fearing something would happen to Peony if she enters first, Sebastian takes a step in. He walks further inside, still consumed by darkness, but letting the glow of his halo cast a light to guide him in each uncertain step. Eventually, he finds the back wall, and extends his arm out to Peony.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s dangerous,¡± He says, ¡°Here, take my hand.¡±


    Peony keeps her hands folded at her chest for a second, squinting her eyes to see further in the room. She hesitates, then obliges, taking hold of his hand and stepping into the darkness. The only comfort in the silence is the humming of Sebastian¡¯s wires. She follows Sebastian back to the back of the room, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.


    Luckily for the two of them, they find themselves presented with the former. The neurons along the ceilings ignite into colors of orange and yellow, illuminating shelves full of clothes and jewelry boxes. On the back of the door is a mirror, spotless and clear. They''re surprised at how open the space is. It¡¯s still small and perhaps even cramped, but it¡¯s larger than what they¡¯re used to. Every shelf and rack is full of vibrant clothes. Some of them are for costumes, no doubt, but others must be for simply wearing. The two investigate their newfound wardrobe with hesitant curiosity. Soon, though, they realize that everything around them is truly for them.


    The two smile and jump with glee. They didn¡¯t have space like this at home. And even if they had the space, they wouldn¡¯t have anything to put in it. Blessings like this sure didn¡¯t come often to them, but thank goodness they were here now. They hug each other in excitement.


    They exit the closet and look around the room. All things considered, they¡¯re satisfied. It¡¯s small, sure, but it¡¯s enough. They have everything they need, and they have a little bit of what they want. And best of all, they have each other. A few hours ago, joining the circus seemed like a rocky idea. Now? It¡¯s a blessing in disguise.


    Peony steps out into the open room and runs her fingers along the comforter of the bed. The downy blanket gently sinks under the weight of her hand. From where she stands, it¡¯s as vast as the sea. She looks forward to sleeping under it. Maybe, if she¡¯s lucky, Sebastian will change his mind and join her.


    Sebastian leans against the door and looks idly toward the table with the teapot. The fine smell of tea has completely filled the room. He notices what he thinks to be his tea bowl, the one patterned in greens and blacks. Across from it, with purples and blues, is what he hopes is Peony¡¯s. He wonders if he could rest his open hand atop the table and find Peony¡¯s hand laid gently in his.


    ¡°Do you think the others are waiting for us?¡± Peony asks, hardly louder than a murmur.


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Sebastian replies, suddenly snapped from a trance. ¡°They probably are.¡±


    ¡°How about we go and meet them, and later tonight we can explore this place a little more.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fine to me.¡±


    Sebastian walks over to the door and holds it open for Peony. She nods as thanks, and Sebastian nods back. As the two leave, the door locks on its own, so that the only two who can open it are them.


    When the two are gone from their dwelling, the window by the table opens. A cool breeze fills the room, and soon a small centipede crawls in. It slowly meanders its way down the wall, then it crawls along the ground, investigating every divot and crack in the wooden panels. Eventually, though, it makes its way under the bed, finding the darkness to be much cozier than the bright light of incandescent bulbs outside.


    The centipede must hide for now, but certainly it will be found.

 Garbage Noise

    ¡°What¡¯s taking them so long?¡± Fuego mumbles.


    DJ idly flips through a pocket guide to necromancy. ¡°Probably just resting after everything that just happened.¡±


    Fuego shrugs. ¡°Eh, probably.¡±


    ¡°You know Sebastian¡¯s not always good with distance,¡± DJ adds, ¡°Give him a minute, he¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    DJ returns to their reading, and Fuego looks back down at the ground. Meanwhile, Juniper paces the cul-de-sac, holding a little pink brick-phone to the skies.


    ¡°There¡¯s no coverage here,¡± she grumbles, ¡°Any of you guys getting a signal?¡±


    ¡°Why are you on your phone?¡± DJ asks, slightly bitter at the reminder of technology.


    ¡°I was gonna tell Creo that we¡¯re staying here for a while so he doesn¡¯t flip out later tonight,¡± Juniper replies, ¡°See? I¡¯ve got everything typed out in plain text here!¡±


    DJ begrudgingly looks up from their book as Juniper shows them her phone. DJ squints, puzzled at the words and numbers on the screen. The code, they remember, is something Juniper and Adderall called ¡°Leet Speak¡±. They wish they didn¡¯t understand it. Then again, maybe the headache they got from reading it would be worse.


    DJ is sarcastic in their delivery. ¡°Plain text? I feel like I¡¯m getting the warning signs of a migraine reading it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe if you actually had a phone instead of just having a computer you¡¯d be more used to it.¡±


    DJ stares at Juniper for a moment. As if I wasn¡¯t alive in 2012, they think to themselves.


    ¡°Sure, maybe,¡± they reply, ¡°Have you tried calling him yet?¡±


    ¡°I did, but every time he picks up it¡¯s just garbage noise on the other end. It¡¯s like, Morse or something.¡±


    ¡°Morse, huh? Can you try calling him again? Maybe we can all try and decipher something.¡±


    Juniper clicks out a string of numbers on the keypad before handing the phone to DJ. DJ presses a button, and soon the tones of ringing can be heard amongst the group. Ikimono doesn¡¯t dare go up to them, but they listen from where they stand. Soon, the tones click to an open call.


    ¡°Creo?¡± DJ begins, ¡°Creo, can you hear me? It¡¯s DJ. We¡¯re trying to figure out what¡¯s going on with the optics out here.¡±


    The noise from the other end is a garbled mass of Morse code, high-pitched screeching, and glitched noise. DJ recoils in surprise when it begins.


    ¡°Creo? You¡¯re not coming through clearly,¡± DJ continues, ¡°Can you hear me?¡±


    The noise continues.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking that as a yes, Creo. Look, we found ourselves a gig at the circus and we¡¯re gonna stay for a while. We¡¯re not killing anything. I don¡¯t know how much we¡¯re getting paid, either. We¡¯re just going to stay at the circus for a while. Creo? Creo?¡±


    The terrible garbage noise has faded out into white static. DJ looks up from the phone, hoping for someone to say something or at least for the noise to change. Then, the call hangs up on its own. DJ looks at the phone again, then hands it back to Juniper.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± DJ grumbles.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°See?¡± Juniper says, ¡°I don¡¯t know what the deal is with it.¡±


    ¡°I think Sebastian told me one time that having strong electricity nearby something like a phone can interfere with its signals or something,¡± Fuego adds, ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that though, you¡¯d have to ask him about it.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯d we be getting the electricity from, though?¡± Adderall asks, ¡°Are neurons like this enough?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Ikimono chimes in, ¡°Sometimes when anxiety¡¯s running high, the neurons surge. I¡¯ve seen blackouts caused by fear.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Juniper says, ¡°Didn¡¯t know they could do that.¡±


    Sebastian and Peony walk over to join the group. They¡¯re quietly welcomed by Juniper and Fuego before DJ starts to brief them.


    ¡°We just tried to call Creo, and we had some sort of mess-up in the signal,¡± they explain, ¡°Ikimono says it¡¯s because of the neurons, but we figured we¡¯d ask you before we go with anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°When you have high enough electrical signals within reach of a transmitter or receiver, the transmission gets distorted. Not sure why neurons do that though. I mean, I think people only have 50 volts in them or something like that.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s 50,¡± Peony adds. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Right, but you figure there¡¯s enough neurons to fill up a few thousand little people, or two or three big ones,¡± Fuego adds, ¡°That¡¯s surely enough power to throw something off.¡±


    ¡°Even then, a hundred thousand little people probably aren¡¯t going to throw off a cell signal like that. If they¡¯re evenly spread out, that is.¡±


    ¡°Evenly spread out,¡± Peony repeats, ¡°What if this tree alone are those hundred thousand people all piled into one person? Surely you¡¯d have enough then to corrupt something.¡±


    ¡°A hundred thousand people crammed into one?¡± Adderall asks, ¡°That sounds like something out of a Soviet horror film.¡±


    ¡°Have you watched enough Soviet horror films to make that judgment call?¡± DJ teases with a smile.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Adderall beams.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting off track,¡± Peony says, ¡°Sebastian, a hundred thousand people crammed into one electrical source. What¡¯s the interference?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but that¡¯s weird. I guess if this tree was the generator itself, it¡¯d be easier to figure out. Does anyone have a multimeter and some graph paper?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we have time for that right now,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Sebastian, what¡¯s your conjecture?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I mean, if Ikimono says there can be fear-caused blackouts, I¡¯d assume there¡¯d be enough to interfere with a cell reception. Especially if we¡¯re nervous or excited.¡±


    ¡°And if we can¡¯t get a signal here, we probably can¡¯t get one anywhere,¡± Juniper sighs.


    ¡°Thank you, Sebastian,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°At least we know a little bit about our limits here.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Anytime, you know I love a good infodump.¡±


    DJ nods. They turn to Ikimono and nod to them in thanks too.


    ¡°But how is Creo supposed to know we¡¯re here?¡± Juniper protests, ¡°If all we heard from him was garbage noise, who¡¯s to say he didn¡¯t hear it too?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we need to worry about that,¡± DJ says, putting her concerns to rest, ¡°I think, through all of that, he heard us.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Oh, you know,¡± DJ says, ¡°Just a bit of deja vu.¡±


    ¡­


    Dearest Creo,


    I¡¯m not letting those kids alone. When King Frog tells you that there is no circus in Portar (as I¡¯m sure he will), do not fight him. I will keep them safe for however long you need me to keep them safe for. I know that they¡¯ll all keep an eye out for each other too. Between us, nobody should come to harm.


    I¡¯ll try my best to not intervene for their sake. I know you don¡¯t like it when I do that. I know those kids are going to keep their backs together and try to stave off the danger. I think they know what¡¯s coming too. DJ does, at least. If nothing else, I can count on them to keep everything under control. If things get out of hand, I¡¯ll step in. I won¡¯t save them, but I¡¯ll help. Maybe get them to safety or distract someone so they can run. Nothing much. I hope you¡¯ll forgive me in advance.


    Please try your best not to worry. You worry enough about me as it is. I know these kids might as well be our own flesh and blood, but they can handle this. I know they can, and I know they will. I beg of you not to lose rest over them.


    Sincerely yours,


    Mr. Crick

 Something About Meat, Wolves, and White Roses

    DJ¡¯s answer doesn¡¯t satisfy them in the slightest. Everyone stands around in unease, waiting for some sort of queue to do something. They lean casually against the neurons. They don¡¯t know any better.


    Sebastian, not wanting to be bothered by the waiting, paces around the deck. At first he thinks about people, and how little electricity they have in them. They hardly have much more than a battery. He wonders if someone from outer space could comprehend that. An entire entity, capable of complex thought enough to find patterns in stars dotted hundreds of thousands of light years away, not even powered by a double A battery. He looks at the neurons with much the same curiosity. Just how powerful are they?


    Sebastian takes a wire in his hand and starts looking around the neurons for an outlet. Sure, a shock didn¡¯t seem like it would help much, but at least he¡¯d have a rough estimate. He traces the rope-like branches with his fingers, feeling a second hum along his fingertips. It¡¯s ever so slightly out of sync with his own hum. He can hardly stand it. When he comes to stop next to someone, be it Juniper, Adderall, or Ikimono, they simply step out of his way so he can continue down the line.


    In the center of the main neuron is a crevice just big enough for his wrist wires to slide into it. He grins, perhaps as a pirate grins at newfound treasure. He takes the wire in his left hand and slides it into the crevice. At last, the humming tunes in with his own.


    It begins with little vibrations that skidder up his arms and worm into his chest. He¡¯s not frightened by them at all. They¡¯re calming to him, as a matter of fact. He leans himself against the neuron, closing his eyes as he loses the feeling in his arms and his legs. Visions of colorful spirals and dots begin to fill his vision, leaving no inch of blackness in their place. His breathing grows faster for a moment, but he suddenly loses control of it. Now, there is only his senses and his imagination to guide him in the labyrinth of thought.


    When Sebastian goes into the place he calls Deep Thought, he likes to imagine a little avatar for himself. Just a little form to make things make sense. He imagines himself as a fluffy white mothman with extra long antennae and markings of rosy gold. He flits about the void for a moment. He never adjusts perfectly to his avatar. But as soon as he can touch all of his fingers to his thumb one at a time, he knows he¡¯s adjusted. A calibration, if you will.


    He feels before anything else. The space is vast, but vast as though he is a child in a play space. Still, something muffles the sound around him. Is it fabric, vinyl, plastic? Perhaps it¡¯s all three. He thinks perhaps it would be better to focus less on the muffled talking around him. He decides he¡¯ll get back to it later.


    As soon as he makes his choice, the wonderfully overwhelming scent of herbs and spices. He wonders for a moment if someone is cooking soup. Then again, the smell is dry. He tries to make a list of everything he knows is in the smell. Luckily for him, Peony was always doing something with herbs. There¡¯s anise, vanilla, some rose petals, cloves, nutmeg, and something that smelled not quite unlike rain. It is a warm sort of smell, and some part of him wished for a bit of ginger to add itself to the mix.


    Soon, the feeling of warm fabric rests against his hands and arms. How lucky I am, he thinks, to be in such a wonderful place! He curls up into a little ball and hugs himself, rubbing the softness against his chest. He rocks himself back and forth, side to side, happily calm in the space. He loves it all. Perhaps if he ever needs to calm down for a while, he can come here. In the lovely darkness of Deep Thought, he rests.


    That¡¯s when the impulses start.


    Sebastian doesn¡¯t recognize them at first. They aren¡¯t the sort of thoughts he would think. They prickle along his skin and buzz around his head as an odd sort of green he doesn¡¯t recognize. The smells vanish, and so too does the softness of the fabric on his arms. He hears whispers high above his head. Down at either side of his head are what he thinks to be the clicking and clacking of teeth and joints. He tries to focus on the whispers, but he can only pick up a few words at a time.


    Veins, thread, muscle, teeth.


    They crawl around on hundreds of legs, raising every hair on his arms and neck.


    Needles, eyes, buttons, bones.


    The thoughts tangle around his head like swarms of mosquitoes, and soon the only thing he sees is static.


    Meat.


    The word sits like a weight on his shoulders, slowly flowing down his back like slime. The buzzing thoughts around him suddenly cease as the cool ooze trickles down his arms. He hesitantly reaches out to touch it, but the liquid burns his hands. He freezes, trying to focus his eyes on the horrible texture slowly consuming his body. The colors are hazy, but the more he focuses, the darker they appear. He focuses harder, his mind¡¯s eye straining as he tries so desperately to see the something gushing along him. He closes his eyes, and throws his head back to the growing cacophony above his head. A thousand voices, all joined together in bleeding agony, chanting Meat! Meat! Meat!


    When he opens them again, the voices have stopped. The ooze vanishes into the open void, leaving behind stains of fluid trails in their tracks. Sebastian tries to get a grip on his own thoughts. Those voices, be they the whispers or the screams, couldn¡¯t have been his. He had heard them all before though. Who were they?


    That isn¡¯t a problem now. Now, he has a clear vision of the space around him. It has opened up again, only now, the only claustrophobia comes from just how small Sebastian is compared to it all. Hot steam rises from vents in the floor, tossing a misty haze about the vast room. Puddles of deep red lay stagnant on the hard tile floor. The walls are festooned with the corrosion of rust. Meathooks dangle on chains from the ceiling, one so high that the chains vanish in clouds of brown mist. Some of the hooks are empty, perhaps only home to corrosion or fluid. Others carry flesh on their uncaring metal. All of it is fresh, and some of it is still dripping with blood. Still, the air around him smells sweet, almost sickly. For once, he wishes he could imagine the scent of bleach to cleanse the air.


    Sebastian tries to rise to his feet, but he finds himself chained to the floor. He doesn¡¯t panic at first, but the sight of the flesh dangling around him fills him with unease. Something yanks on the pit of his stomach, but he quells the urge. Perhaps it is nerves, not instinct. It has to be nerves. He sits and breathes in the humid air, and he finds it to be nearly choking.


    The sound of heavy footsteps and clinking metal rises in the distance. He waits patiently for it to arrive. Fortunately for him, it doesn¡¯t take long. When it finally stops before him, he can only recall the figure as the same voice which rang above him, the same oily green over his head.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡±


    Sebastian ponders the question for a moment. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. I just wanted to see what was in the neurons, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± the voice says, ¡°Wandering comes at a terrible cost.¡±


    ¡°Alright then. Can I leave?¡±


    ¡°I have now what I want from you. Leave and never return; it¡¯s what¡¯s best to do.¡±


    The world around him begins to crumble like paper, and his sight returns to his eyes. The taste of saltwater lingers in his mouth. He sits in a heap on the ground, slumped over as if he had been poisoned. The wire rests at his side.


    Peony and DJ kneel down beside him in concern. Peony holds his free hand, but DJ keeps their hands on their knees.


    ¡°Sebastian, what happened?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°I stuck one of my wires in a crevice to see how much electricity was in the neurons,¡± he explains, ¡°I think I saw something I wasn¡¯t supposed to.¡±


    ¡°What did you see?¡± She asks again.


    ¡°There were all these voices chanting and droning on, and I was in some sort of slaughterhouse. I kept hearing the word meat over and over again.


    ¡°Meat?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, meat. It was tender and bloody and it smelled sort of sweet.¡±


    ¡°Who would be thinking about meat in a circus like this?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes we get meat here,¡± Ikimono interrupts, ¡°It¡¯s rare, but sometimes we eat meat.¡±


    Ikimono isn¡¯t sure what more they should say. They want to tell them, so badly they want to tell them, but with a neuron that close by, there¡¯s no telling what will happen. The knowledge burns in their mind.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s eating?¡± Sebastian asks,


    ¡°I think so,¡± Ikimono lies, ¡°Was it rotten?¡±


    ¡°Rotten?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Rotten meat.¡±


    ¡°Who would ever eat rotten meat?¡± Peony grimaces.


    ¡°Someone really desperate,¡± DJ frowns, ¡°That or a masochist.¡±


    Ikimono shoots them all a glare. They hope someone will notice them.


    ¡°Whose voice did you hear?¡± DJ asks, ¡°Maybe that¡¯ll help us.¡±


    Sebastian hesitates. He knows the answer he has won¡¯t be one that makes sense to them. ¡°It was green.¡±


    DJ looks unamused. ¡°Green?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, green. And there was a bunch of clicking and snapping around me too, like someone rattling teeth in a bag.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s odd,¡± Peony says, ¡°Did anyone say anything to you?¡±


    ¡°They told me that wandering like that would get me killed and they had what they needed from me.¡±


    Ikimono just about jumps out of their skin. Oh god, not this soon. He¡¯s going to make quick of everyone at this rate.


    ¡°Ikimono?¡± DJ asks, ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± they mutter, ¡°Just fine.¡±


    ¡°Do you know something about this?¡± DJ asks.


    They stay silent for a second, wondering how much trouble they¡¯d find themselves in if they said so much as a word. They look at Sebastian, then back at DJ.


    ¡°His nose has been bleeding this whole time,¡± they say, ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything before, but I¡¯m a little worried. Does he do that often?¡±


    DJ looks back at Sebastian, and finds Sebastian does indeed have a nosebleed. Sebastian throws his hands over his face and cowers away from Peony. She recoils in surprise as DJ springs to their feet.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± DJ says, ¡°Thanks, little buddy. Seb, I¡¯m gonna grab a tissue or something, you keep your head forward.¡±


    DJ rushes back to their boxcar, and Ikimono rushes over to take their place. Sebastian sheepishly looks back up at them.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°I hate it when this happens.¡±


    Ikimono nods. ¡°It¡¯s nothing much.¡±


    The three sit in silence for a moment. Peony looks at the ground, trying to ignore Sebastian.


    ¡°Hey, Sebastian?¡± Ikimono whispers.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°When you look at yourself in the mirror, do you pay much attention to your reflection?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look too deep into the mirrors. Sometimes what you find looking back won¡¯t be you.¡±


    Sebastian cocks his head to the side. Ikimono sighs in disappointment.


    DJ rushes back with a little cream handkerchief and hands it to Sebastian. Sebastian thanks them quietly, then holds it over his face.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°You good?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°I should be in a couple minutes,¡± he replies.


    ¡°Alright. Thank you, Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono smiles and nods.


    ¡°Once we get everything under control,¡± Fuego remarks, taking a few steps closer to the incident, ¡°Can we go out and look around for a while? All this talk of meat and blood¡¯s got us nervous.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Peony says, ¡°We are getting in a bit of a knot aren¡¯t we. Hey, Ikimono? When we go, would you like to come with us?¡±


    Ikimono stays still for a moment. Then, they nod.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll have me, yes,¡± They reply.


    ¡°Then come with us,¡± Peony smiles, ¡°I know you¡¯ve probably seen everything already, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t have fun.¡±


    Peony is right. Ikimono supposes that the real question ought to be whether they¡¯re allowed to have fun.


    Sebastian hands the handkerchief back to DJ, and Peony helps him to his feet. Ikimono makes his way to the stairs and motions for them to come over. The others follow his command, but just as swiftly as he takes the lead, he sneaks to the back of the crowd. They stay well away from the lead, hoping that perhaps no one will notice them.


    Ikimono follows the group as they reach the ground and begin to wander around the back alleys. There¡¯s not really much in the way of entertainment back here, unless you find fun in structural safety hazards. Broken down stands waft stale scents through the air as the wind passes by, adorned with faded colors of once vivid paint and scaling neurons clawing their way up their sides like wretched vines. Larger buildings, once inhabited by games, mazes, and rides, stand as husks amidst the dim light. If one had good eyes and looked far enough into the darkness, they might even find the figure of a once-worn costume or old robot performer staring back at them with hollowed plastic eyes. To say the back alleys were undesirable to guests wouldn¡¯t be an understatement, but the thing is that they weren¡¯t really guests anymore. And they never were average guests, either.


    They press on through the back alleys, not lacking in fun but wishing for more of it. They have to hold back Sebastian and Fuego from running into one of the old buildings, but aside from that, they all quickly grow bored of the excursion. Peony in particular is just about ready to die of apathy during the walk. Just as she¡¯s ready to accept her fate, she remembers Ikimono. She looks ahead of her, but when she doesn¡¯t see the purple of their scarf, she turns around. She winces in surprise at the sight of them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ikimono mutters, looking away from her. ¡°I scared you, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it,¡± She replies, ¡°You don¡¯t have to be a hide-behind, you know.¡±


    Ikimono nods. The two walk in silence for a short while. They still drift behind her.


    ¡°You can walk beside me, Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono looks up from the ground and at Peony. She has to be kidding. No, she couldn¡¯t be, her eyes, her tone, and her expression all feel genuine. They take a couple steps forward to walk beside her. The warmth in their chest is almost uncomfortable.


    ¡°You know this place well, don¡¯t you?¡± She asks.


    Ikimono nods. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Can you show us how to get back on the main drag again?¡± She asks.


    Ikimono hesitates. They look up to the front of the crowd, then back at Peony.


    ¡°Oh. Well, could you tell me how to get there so that way I can show them the way?¡±


    Ikimono smiles and nods. ¡°If we walk a little further down, there¡¯ll be a clearing to the right. If we follow it, we¡¯ll reach Front Street in no time.¡±


    ¡°Front Street?¡±


    ¡°You called it the main drag. I call it Front Street. It¡¯s the first thing you see when you get here, you know?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I like that. I like that a lot, actually.¡±


    Ikimono smiles at Peony. They know she¡¯s probably just being polite, but they appreciate her.


    ¡°Hey, y¡¯all!¡± She shouts.


    The others turn around and face her.


    ¡°There¡¯s a little clearing up a little ways on our right. If we walk through it, we¡¯ll end up on Front Street.¡±


    ¡°Front Street?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°The main stretch of the circus, where all the booths are. The one that leads to the big top. That¡¯s what Ikimono calls it.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a plan to me,¡± DJ smiles. ¡°I¡¯m getting tired of looking at old buildings anyway.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d be a lot less boring if you¡¯d let us go inside one of them,¡± Sebastian protests.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t structurally sound, Seb!¡± DJ retorts, ¡°You¡¯ll be walking around in one and it¡¯ll fall in on you. I¡¯ll have to pull you off the ground with a spatula.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re willing to be an accomplice to a war crime but you won¡¯t let us commit a simple O¡¯sha violation,¡± Fuego sighs, shaking vens head in disappointment, ¡°Hypocrite.¡±


    ¡°You partook in those war crimes too, Fuego,¡± DJ says, ¡°You were only 18 when we all went off to fight Malus!¡±


    ¡°19 and 24 mean absolutely nothing in the court of Genaeva,¡± Sebastian smirks, ¡°We were still child soldiers. Now come on, DJ, let us commit an O¡¯sha violation!¡±


    ¡°We have a plan, you two, and that plan does not involve breaking the laws of the high court of O¡¯sha! Or Genaeva, for that matter. We¡¯re going to go to Front Street, and we¡¯re gonna have ourselves a good time. Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Sebastian and Fuego happily oblige and tag along in the back. Ikimono keeps to Peony¡¯s side, a little prouder than they were before. Nobody thought they were foolish or stupid in suggesting the path. Or did they think that because Peony suggested it?


    They look up at Peony, then back at the group.


    Perhaps it¡¯s better not to know.


    As they turn into the clearing, Sebastian and Fuego walk up alongside Ikimono and Peony. Ikimono starts to slow their pace, but Peony gives them a look that tells them not to.


    ¡°So Ikimono,¡± Sebastian begins, ¡°What¡¯s there to do on Front Street?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ikimono says, startled that anyone would bother asking them, ¡°There¡¯s a lot of stuff to do, uh, there¡¯s games, there¡¯s a couple rides, some days they have street performers, but I¡¯m not sure. There¡¯s food there too, but I haven¡¯t gotten the chance to see what they have in a while.¡±


    ¡°What did they have the last time you checked?¡± Fuego asks, suddenly much more invested in the conversation.


    ¡°They just had normal fair stuff,¡± Ikimono shrugs. ¡°But I remember a stall that sold some sort of dumpling. They were good.¡±


    ¡°They have Jahodove knedliky?¡± Fuego beams.


    ¡°That''s what they¡¯re called?¡±


    ¡°Probably. Wait, what did they have in them?¡±


    ¡°There was meat and vegetables, I think. Wait, there¡¯s--¡± they pause. They can¡¯t remember the word in Spectral. ¡°Uh, the¡­you know the pink animals, they¡¯re short and they¡¯re fat and they eat corn sometimes. They have curly tails and, uh¡­¡±


    Ikimono looks helplessly at the others. They wonder how bad the beating would be if they just said it in their tongue.


    ¡°¡­Buta?¡±


    Peony stares off into the distance to think. Ikimono takes a step away from her. A head start never hurts as badly as the beating.


    ¡°You mean pigs?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Yeah. What¡¯s the meat called?¡± Ikimono asks, grimacing in embarrassment.


    ¡°Pork?¡± Peony replies.


    Peony looks back down at Ikimono. They look like they¡¯re about to throw up or pass out.


    ¡°Ikimono?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Pork is the meat of the pig?¡± They reply.


    ¡°Yeah. Pork.¡±


    Ikimono steps back over to Peony. ¡°Thank you, Peony. They had something that sort of tasted like pork, but there aren¡¯t any pigs here, I don¡¯t think. And there were some vegetables in there too, and they gave you this orange-y sauce to dip them in.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of those before,¡± Fuego replies.


    ¡°They sound like egg rolls,¡± Sebastian adds.


    ¡°I mean, I think they were,¡± Ikimono continues, ¡°But the sauce you dipped them in was fishy, I think.¡±


    ¡°Like Surstr?mming?¡± Sebastian suggests.


    Ikimono looks at Sebastian with a blank, somewhat puzzled expression. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±


    ¡°I think I know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Peony says, ¡°You all remember when we were out for the Malus thing, and we stopped in Bainise and they had them, and the word for it didn¡¯t look like how it sounded at all? It was like, Cha-, Cha something. Juniper?¡±


    Juniper turns around. ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°You remember when we were in Bainise?¡±


    ¡°How could I forget Bainise?¡± She wearily grins, ¡°I can never unsee DJ¡¯s eye getting gushed like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about that, what were the spring roll things we got while we were there called? Like, Cha-something, but what was that something?¡±


    She replies without missing a beat. ¡°What, Cha Gios?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Peony replies. ¡°They have those?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Ikimono replies.


    ¡°Even better,¡± Fuego says, grinning quite literally from ear to ear.


    ¡°So we¡¯ve got plans for fun and plans for an evening snack,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°Two birds with one stone.¡±


    ¡°Say, Ikimono,¡± Peony says, ¡°If the group breaks off for whatever reason, you can stick with us if you¡¯d like.¡±


    Ikimono smiles.


    ¡°Yeah, absolutely!¡± Sebastian adds, ¡°Stick with us, Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono lets out a little sigh of relief. Why they¡¯re being so nice to them, they can¡¯t quite tell. They¡¯re not going to waste the chance of kindness, though. Especially one that feels genuine.


    The group at last makes it to the illustrious Front Street. They cower in the alleyway at first, in awe of the fluorescent lights slowly overpowering the glow of the neurons and completely shrouding the dark late-afternoon sky. Ikimono takes the first step into the midway, slowly backing up into the middle of the path and stretching their arms wide as if presenting it as their own creation.


    Sebastian takes a deep breath, but Peony beats him to the path. He rushes close behind, eventually followed by Adderall and Fuego. Juniper and DJ at last stand alone in the alley, and DJ motions for Juniper to leave first. She does, and as the group begins to walk again, DJ now lags behind as the caboose.


    ¡­


    Oh, thank goodness they¡¯re in the back.


    I step out into the midway. I don¡¯t like it very much out here, the lights are blinding, and heaven forbid someone hears me. I know DJ will, though. I mean, as much as I hate that they¡¯ve been so finely attuned to minutiae, it does come in handy at times like these.


    They turn around, and I dart back into a corner. DJ doesn¡¯t know what I do, and if they so much as think of my name on the midway, I¡¯m a dead man. Thankfully, they just follow the wind back to me.


    They round the corner just about as quickly as I darted in. Do I try to keep my form?


    ¡°Crick?¡± DJ asks, ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, DJ,¡± I reply, ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Crick, you¡¯re getting hazy. Is everything alright?¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m not stable. I¡¯m trying to keep the both of us safe, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a strange looking man at the door.¡±


    DJ pauses. I hope they know what I mean.


    ¡°What?¡±


    It comes out as a sort of song. ¡°Well, he¡¯s not your run-of-the-mill animal.¡±


    ¡°Crick?¡±


    ¡°You know the rhyme, all the better to see you with, all the better to hear you with, all the better to eat you with. I¡¯d be careful out there if I were you.¡±


    ¡°Crick, are you having a stroke? Am I having a stroke?¡±


    I pause. I think I can only describe DJ¡¯s look as that of realization.


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal with the neurons, Crick?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about me when you tell them. Think of fresh snow and how it smells when things die. You¡¯ll throw him off.¡±


    ¡°Crick, am I doomed?¡±


    ¡°DJ, I¡¯m saying this as kindly as I can, but you need to be more careful about the gods you pray to. I don¡¯t think they heard you, but someone else already did.¡±


    ¡°One more thing. How do I know it¡¯s you?¡±


    ¡°You already know, DJ.¡±


    DJ nods.


    ¡°How do I tell them?¡±


    ¡°Tell them how you always tell them. You¡¯ll be alright.¡±


    DJ turns to leave.


    ¡°One last thing, DJ.¡±


    They turn back to face me.


    ¡°White roses. He won¡¯t kill me that easily.¡±


    ¡­


    ¡°DJ, what the hell are you doing back here?¡±


    DJ turns around to find Juniper tapping at their shoulder.


    ¡°Saw some midi-chlorians back here,¡± DJ replies, trying to imagine frost pecking at their snout. ¡°I figured I¡¯d stop in and see what they were up to.¡±


    ¡°Midi-chlorians?¡± Juniper says in disbelief.


    ¡°Yeah, then Ben Kenobi himself just zapped in front of me to dispel some arcane knowledge about the force. Long story short, I¡¯ll be taking a week¡¯s long vacation to the swamps of Dagobah for an all-expense paid luxury force tutoring camp.¡±


    ¡°What did he tell you?¡± Juniper asks, half sarcastically.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think about anything that could be used against you.¡±


    She pauses. DJ isn¡¯t joking.


    She turns back and calls out to the group. ¡°Did you guys hear that?¡±


    The others look at each other in confusion. Some of them nod or give a thumbs up to Juniper, but they don¡¯t quite understand why DJ would say that. Ikimono knows, though, but they¡¯ve given up on not thinking about things that would hurt them. They can¡¯t be hurt any more than what they have.


    ¡°So if you¡¯re done hallucinating for the time being, shall we keep going?


    DJ shrugs. ¡°Sure,¡±


    The group leaves behind the darkness of the alleyways, happily skipping off into the fluorescent lights and strange, silly music. If any night was for having fun, it was this one, and they weren¡¯t going to let such a chance slip through their fingers that easily.


    A white rose in the dark clearing slowly wilts away, but the ghastly white roots that lay beneath the cobblestone begin to grow. They creep their way around the rocks, mingling with the neurons that grow among the stalls and the scrap metal from old rides which litter the back alleyways. Compared to the rest of the neurons, it hardly takes up enough space to matter, let alone overpower the other neurons.


    Somewhere, amidst the chaos of the circus, Sunshine hears the quiet drumming of a heartbeat.

 Good Times on Front Street

    As the Raven of the Skies closes its two moony eyes, the lights of Front Street ignite to fill the darkness left behind. The main stretch echoes with the sound of commotion from every booth, from the beckoning of carnies to their games to the clanging of pots and pans cooking up every manner of confection and snack. The vivid structures both spark the imagination and leave nothing to it, showing off every vibrant challenge, treat, or oddity, and yet leaving them all to wonder who among them will be brave enough to face it.


    Where they escape to the midway, the sides are packed with games and challenges of all kinds. Stacks of bottles and cans tower high behind curtains of tulle which frame the windows of the stalls. Weaponry of all kinds sits idly on countertops, waiting to find their mark on a worn-out target. Huge roulette wheels spin dizzied mice in games of feigned vertigo. Carnies from every booth watch over them like hawks. The wind blows their beckoning through the midway, and their voices echo like the songs of sirens. All manner of skill, from accuracy, to luck, to strength, and even cognition have their tests here, and no team of heroes would pass up the chance to prove themselves to their friends.


    Juniper makes the first move towards a game, and the others follow behind her, each wondering what gauntlet they¡¯ll have to run. Curtains of white and red festoon the stand, and within it is a small pool full of lily pads and flowers. The carnie which runs it stands at the back of the booth at first, but at the sight of the gaggle of adventurers bounds to the counter between his domain and the midway. He¡¯s not a particularly tall creature, and not much intimidating either. That¡¯s why Juniper picked his game, after all. She knows that if there¡¯s any game she can beat, it¡¯ll probably be his.


    The carnie fixes his striped coat and matching hat, barely saving it from flopping over his eyes as he moves to address the group.


    ¡°Hey kids,¡± He says. His voice which isn¡¯t exactly his real voice, but not quite unlike what his real voice ought to be. ¡°Would you like to take a shot at the frog game?¡±


    ¡°The frog game?¡± Juniper asks, more smug about it than inquisitive.


    ¡°The frog game!¡± The carnie bellows, ¡°You pick up a frog, and you toss it at the lily pads, and if it lands on one, you win!¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± Juniper grins, reaching into her pockets for a tooth to pay him with.


    She fishes around her pocket for a minute before finally settling upon a slightly yellowed canine. She hands it to the carnie, and he sits a basket full of toads upon the countertop. They croak and groan, but seem too apathetic to leap from the bucket.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them hopping,¡± he explains, ¡°They¡¯ve been lobotomized.¡±


    Juniper looks at the toads. She recalls a tale about frogs in hot water. As soon as she remembers it, she shakes it from her mind. It isn¡¯t important.


    ¡°Which one should I aim for first?¡± Juniper asks, picking up a toad.


    DJ looks up at the carnie. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Frank Ugly,¡± The carnie replies, almost prideful.


    DJ is deadpan. ¡°I think you should throw it at Frank Ugly.¡±


    ¡°At him?¡± Juniper asks.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Fuego snickers, ¡°Just right at his head. Do it.¡±


    Frank Ugly silently glares at the group. He objects to their mischief, but he doesn¡¯t dare do it aloud.


    ¡°Throw it over to the right a bit,¡± Peony instructs.


    ¡°You think I should throw it hard?¡± Juniper asks, ¡°Like, I mean, really wing it at him?¡±


    ¡°You should!¡± Adderall says.


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°He¡¯s a bit short. Don¡¯t want to knock him over.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Frank Ugly says, slightly exasperated at them all, ¡°Really? You know what, I¡¯m not even gonna move from where I¡¯m standing. I don¡¯t care.¡±


    The others look at each other in bewilderment.


    Frank Ugly glares at them. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Juniper grins wickedly. She winds up her arm, and lobs the toad at Frank Ugly.


    ¡°Since you want to make that joke so badly,¡± he mutters to himself, watching the toad fly through the air.


    The toad lands and hits him directly on the face, making a rather silly splat as it bounces off of his nose and hits the ground. Frank Ugly grimaces at Juniper, and she leans on the table to support herself as she laughs. The group follows suit, and even Ikimono finds their own laughter in the noise.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you just did that,¡± Frank Ugly grimaces, trying to find someone to make eye contact with. ¡°I seriously can¡¯t believe you just did that. Come on, take this seriously. There¡¯s a prize waiting for you if you can do this, come on!¡±


    Their laughter dies down as Juniper reaches for a new toad. It croaks in her hand, and suddenly the mild-apex-predator instincts within her kick in.


    ¡°Am I allowed to eat this?¡± She asks.


    ¡°God no!¡± Frank Ugly exclaims, ¡°Aim the frog at the lily pad and throw it! Not at me, don¡¯t aim it at me, go for the lily pads!¡±


    Juniper turns to the others for guidance again.


    ¡°Go for the middle one, that one propped up on the fountain slightly,¡± Sebastian says, pointing at it, ¡°If you hit it weirdly, it¡¯ll fall down onto the one below it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very good,¡± Frank Ugly says, ¡°At least one of you has their head screwed on straight.¡±


    ¡°My head¡¯s screwed on bi, thank you very much,¡± Sebastian smiles.


    Frank Ugly frowns. ¡°I hate you all so much. Throw the frog and go!¡±


    ¡°So that one back there?¡± Juniper asks, pointing at a lily pad.


    Sebastian nods. ¡°That one, yeah.¡±


    Juniper squints her eyes and leans forward on the counter. She gently tosses the frog, just barely missing the upper pad. The toad just catches the lower pad, though, clinging desperately with one leg.


    They erupt into shouts of joy once again. Their celebration is cut off, though, by Frank Ugly¡¯s scolding.


    ¡°No, no, it doesn¡¯t count,¡± He explains, ¡°The whole frog has to be on the pad, not its leg.¡±


    The group¡¯s jeers of excitement turn into disgruntled muttering. Juniper sighs and shakes her head before picking up another toad.


    ¡°Same as before?¡± She asks, looking up at Sebastian.


    ¡°Yep, aim for the upper pad.¡±


    Juniper lobs the toad at the upper pad in frustration. It bounces off of the plant, throwing the fountain of water off its course, and smacks against the back wall of the stall.


    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Frank Ugly chides, ¡°Maybe you should let someone else do it.¡±


    Adderall rests a hand on Juniper¡¯s shoulder, and Juniper takes a few deep breaths. The others take a couple steps away from her, giving her some space to think. She closes her eyes for a moment or two, then opens them with a newfound determination.


    She reaches into the basket and picks up a rather warty toad. She tosses it up and down in her hand, concentrating on some force unseen to Frank Ugly. The others know, though. Even Ikimono can sense she¡¯s conjuring some sort of power to her hands and to the toad which occupies them. Frank Ugly takes two steps back, though he can¡¯t seem to put his finger on why identify. The others stare intently at her, watching as she grows ever more focused on the toad. When at last she finds herself satisfied, she catches the toad, leaving her hand open as it lets out a deep croak. She lifts her head up, and her eyes meet Frank Ugly¡¯s in a shot of determination.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be bested by a carnival game,¡± She growls, ¡°And certainly not by someone with a name like Frank Ugly!¡±


    She leaps up into the air, and a mass of purple smoke clusters around her beating wings. She grasps the toad firmly in her hands, letting out an inaudible shriek of sonar as she hovers midair. The others stubble back as the soundwaves knock them all off their feet. She locks eyes with the lily pad, and she winds up her arm with the frog.


    ¡°Take this!¡± she shouts.


    She gently tosses the frog. It bounces off of the upper pad again, this time landing perfectly in the center of the lily pad below it.


    Everyone stares at her in awe as she gently falls back down to the ground. She takes one deep breath, and when she exhales, the anger within her has faded away.


    ¡°Did I win?¡± She asks, her eyes glimmering with girlish excitement.


    Frank Ugly stares at her in stunned silence.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says, his voice somewhat trailing off. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d win that.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± She says, her voice unwavering. ¡°So what¡¯s my prize?¡±


    Frank Ugly hastily reaches up behind him to a shelf full of stuffed toys, keeping eye contact with Juniper. He fumbles for a huge, grinning blue whale, then awkwardly hands it to her. She accepts it with open arms, hugging it with enough strength to crack ribs as soon as she receives it.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± She smiles, starting to turn away with the others.


    Frank Ugly babbles for words.


    When they¡¯re a few feet back into the midway, the group cheers for their champion. Juniper holds up her whale in pride, and the others form a circle around her. Ikimono is hesitant to join in on their celebration, but they can¡¯t help but find themselves enticed by the small opening in the group that¡¯s just their size. They walk in, unsure of what to say.


    Yelling¡¯s a universal language, right? They think to themselves.


    They just start making noise and jumping in time with the others.


    ¡°That was awesome,¡± Adderall says, her voice calming the crowd.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go and try another game,¡± Peony grins.


    They all bound off down the midway, ignoring the stalls with shadowy carnies lacking faces. Ikimono trails close behind. They at last come to another game, a grid of goldfish bowls behind another counter. Frank Ugly stands behind the counter, visibly dreading their arrival.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the guy from the other booth?¡± Fuego asks,


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Frank Ugly groans.


    ¡°Geez, do they have other carnies here?¡± Ve asks.


    Frank Ugly grimaces. ¡°Nope. Unless you¡¯d rather deal with the shadow people.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass. At least we can pick on you.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s this?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°This is the goldfish toss,¡± Frank Ugly begins, less than enthused to be having them as clients. ¡°You toss a goldfish into a bowl, and if it lands, you can keep it.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to toss a ping pong ball into a bowl or something?¡± DJ asks, a little worried at Frank Ugly¡¯s proposition.


    ¡°No,¡± Frank Ugly insists with a malicious grin. ¡°You toss the goldfish. Why else would it be called a goldfish toss, hm?¡±


    ¡°I mean, yeah, I guess,¡± DJ shrugs.


    Adderall slaps a tooth on the counter, and Frank Ugly picks it up and deposits it into a small bucket. He scoops up a bucket of orange fish and sets it in front of Adderall, who grins and giggles as she wiggles her fingers and mutters ¡°gimmie, gimmie, gimmie¡± under her breath.


    When the bucket is at last set down in front of Adderall, she sticks her hand inside the opaque, red plastic.


    ¡°Here, fishy fishy fishy,¡± she says, waiting for one to swim into her awaiting hand.


    A little more-red-than-orange fish swims up to her hand. Adderall sticks her other hand in the bucket to corner it. Instead of calmly swimming into her open hands, however, the fish bites with shockingly sharp teeth.


    Adderall jumps up and yelps, the fish still holding strong to her finger. ¡°Ow, fuck!¡±


    She rips her hand out of the tank and frantically shakes her hand, hoping the fish will fly off of it. Meanwhile, Fuego, who stands idly next to the bucket, looks inside it. The other fish are swimming contently, unbothered by the commotion. Ve spies a particularly plump looking one and scoops it out of the water. Ve eyes it for a moment or two, then throws it at Frank Ugly without a moment¡¯s hesitation. Frank Ugly stumbles back in surprise, and the others look on in concern.


    In the midst of the chaos, the fish finally grows tired of the taste of Adderall¡¯s finger and draws its teeth out from her flesh. Adderall, still flapping her hand, launches the fish high into the air. It hangs overhead for a minute, then begins to fall, perfectly landing inside a bowl of brackish water.


    Everyone, Frank Ugly included, looks at the fish in astonishment. Adderall, realizing her feat, sassily leans on the counter and crosses her ankles.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not something you see every day now, huh?¡± She says with a sugar-eating-grin.


    Frank Ugly wipes the fish oil from his brow and grimaces. ¡°No.¡±


    He reaches for the bowl of water as Adderall turns back to her friends. As he places the fish in a marginally cleaner bowl, Adderall begins to talk again.


    ¡°What should I name it?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Skin,¡± Peony blurts out, hardly thinking.


    ¡°You should call him skin,¡± Juniper corroborates with a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m accepting answers from everyone but you two,¡± Adderall says sarcastically.


    ¡°I think you should call him skin,¡± Sebastian smiles.


    ¡°Everyone except for you three.¡±


    ¡°I agree, skin¡¯s a good name for a goldfish,¡± Fuego says.


    ¡°I¡¯m with Fuego, skin is a very good name for a fish,¡± DJ nods.


    Adderall desperately turns to Ikimono, pleading with her eyes for them to say any word other than skin.


    ¡°Ikimono, help me out here, please,¡± She says, hyperbolizing her anxiety.


    Ikimono pauses for a moment to think. What would they do to seem more like the others in the group? What would be funniest? Did the two overlap at all?


    Finally, after much deliberation, Ikimono makes their choice.


    ¡°I think you should name him skin.¡± Ikimono says.


    Frank Ugly hands the bag of water and goldfish to a disappointed Adderall.


    She sighs. ¡°Skin it is.¡±


    The group begins chanting the name of Skin. Even Ikimono joins their chanting. Adderall holds the bag of fish to the empty sky, and the others begin to chant louder. Their chanting grows until Adderall lowers the bag to the center of their crowd, and they all cheer for joy in the name of Skin. When at last their fanfare finishes, they take their leave again to find another game.


    Frank Ugly hopes he never has to see them again.


    As they continue on down the midway, they find that the games district is slowly fading away into the attraction district. Grand contraptions of shoddily built metal scrappage fill out the sidelines, and the overwhelming stench of motor oil consumes the air overhead. The others can hardly hear each other amidst the grinding of rust. Their yelling sounds like a mere whisper in their surroundings. They contemplate going back to the games. Suddenly, DJ¡¯s voice cuts through the noise.


    ¡°You guys wanna go on that thing?¡±


    The group turns to find just what exactly DJ points a claw at. The large tower is painted with chipping pinks and yellows, and six arms of all lengths poke out from it like spears. Each arm holds a car which might be in the shape of an airplane, but might also be a rocket ship. They can¡¯t tell. Nevertheless, each plane looks big enough for two, and even though there are seven of them, DJ usually takes up two seats.


    Juniper looks at the idle structure. She hopes the bars don¡¯t spin. She looks at the faded paint and decides that maybe the workings are too rusted for it to spin at all. Is it worth the risk, though? For all anyone knows, the ride could be two seconds away from crumbling to dust.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s safe?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°This is a circus,¡± DJ replies, almost dumbfounded at the question, ¡°We¡¯re like, an inch above Six Flags quality here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an insult to the circus,¡± Adderall says, ¡°I think this place has enough sense to not let us burn to death in a haunted house.¡±


    Juniper jumps in astonishment. ¡°Burn to death in a haunted house?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Adderall continues, ¡°On May 11th, 1984-¡±


    ¡°Adderall,¡± DJ begins, calmly, ¡°We haven¡¯t seen a haunted house here yet, so how about we cross that bridge if we come to it.¡±


    ¡°When,¡± Ikimono interjects. ¡°There¡¯s a haunted house here.¡±


    DJ looks down and shoots Ikimono a rather surprised look. Ikimono nods back at them.


    ¡°We have a haunted house,¡± Ikimono repeats. ¡°It¡¯s not open a lot though.¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°Alright then, sorry, when we come to it. But do we want to ride the-¡±


    They turn around to read the rather vivid sign in front of the towering attraction. The paint on it looks brand new in comparison to that of the ride. The neon lights look new too, almost blindingly new.


    ¡°The,¡± DJ cringes, ¡°The Giganto-Spin-A-Tron-Inator of Death 500,000.¡±


    The others look on at the sign as though a creature of twisting bone were offering them a handful of worms and they were contemplating on how to best decline the treat without offending the god.


    ¡°You know what?¡± DJ shrugs, ¡°This is a circus. No offense to you, Ikimono, but what did I expect?¡±


    ¡°None taken,¡± Ikimono replies.


    ¡°If I ride this and die, I¡¯m cursing you from whatever afterlife is next,¡± Juniper says.


    ¡°You¡¯re not dying on my watch,¡± Peony playfully protests.


    ¡°So we¡¯re going, then?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°I think so,¡± DJ replies.


    DJ leads the group up to the entrance of the line. They enter with no grand display, but soon the snaking labyrinth of metal fencing makes its mark on the group. They all walk in rhythmic steps, each one synchronized and mirrored with whomever stands in front of them and behind them. Patterns of spiraling lines creep like legions of ants as the midway grows ever hazier in their sight. Perhaps they even began to hear the sounds of a flute trying to hypnotize their line-snake. Whatever the case, they walk for what feels like eternity.


    When they at last reach the front of the line, they¡¯re met with the shifty-eyed glare of a white-furred satyr. The others stick behind DJ, who still leads at the front of the line. They take a step closer to the creature with no small pride in their gait.


    ¡°Welcome to the Giganto-Spin-A-Tron-Inator of Death 500,000,¡± He bleats, pushing up the brim of a blue ball cap, ¡°How many of you are there?¡±


    ¡°Seven,¡± DJ replies.


    ¡°There¡¯s two to a seat,¡± He continues, ¡°One of you is gonna have to sit by yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Ikimono says, raising a holey hand.


    ¡°No,¡± Sebastian protests, ¡°I¡¯ll sit with you. I think this is a spinning ride and I, uh, go a little crazy sometimes.¡±


    Peony shoots him a glare before turning to the satyr. ¡°Is this a spinning ride?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± He replies, leaning against the gate, ¡°There¡¯s a little steering wheel in each of the cars, and you can make the whole car go upside down if you want. The arms attached to the cars spin too, so make of that what you will.¡±


    ¡°You go with them,¡± Peony says, leaving Sebastian with Ikimono, ¡°I¡¯ll see if Adderall or Juniper will let me in with them.


    Sebastian nods in reply, and Peony walks over to Juniper. Adderall and Fuego give each other a knowing glance. DJ, who watches them all make their choices, shrugs and returns their look to the satyr.


    ¡°Guess that¡¯ll be me,¡± They say with a rather tired smile.


    The satyr pulls a small coin purse out of the pocket of his sweater. ¡°Teeth?¡±


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°A molar for every pair.¡±


    DJ counts out three molars, then drops them into the waiting hoof of the satyr. He counts out the teeth, then turns his gaze back up at DJ.


    ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a pair,¡± DJ says, a small grin cracking along the edge of their mouth.


    The satyr shoots them a glare that ought to stab at them like knives. He looks back down at the teeth and slips them into his change purse. Begrudgingly, he opens up the gate and allows them all to pass.


    Juniper and Peony take the plane that looks to be made of copper. They¡¯ve already agreed between themselves that there will be as little upside-down time as possible. If anything, fight against the twisting of the arms. Adderall and Fuego take the golden one right by the gate. They giggle to themselves, already betting the evening snack against whomever gets sick first. DJ takes the silver one by the satyr¡¯s booth, watching him light up a cigarette as he watches them set up their restraints. Sebastian and Ikimono take the brass one behind DJ, and as the two pull down on their lap bars, they negotiate their spinning.


    ¡°Do you like being spun, Ikimono?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°I¡¯ve never done anything like this before.¡±


    ¡°Do you like being thrown around?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Ikimono shrugs, tapping on the lap bar with nailless fingers. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°How about I toss you around a bit. If you don¡¯t like it, you tell me to stop, ok?¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°And if you want to help me spin this, you just take the wheel and help me, ok?¡±


    Sebastian takes the steering wheel in his hands, and Ikimono can¡¯t help but marvel at his hands. Hands with fingers much too long. Hands with veins that look much more like wires than veins. Hands that have too many bones, and bones that look like parts of a machine. Hands that despite everything unnerving about them, have the humanity of neatly manicured opal blue nails.


    ¡°I like your nails,¡± Ikimono says, their voice trembling with anxiety.


    ¡°Oh, thank you,¡± Sebastian grins, ¡°Peony does them for me sometimes.¡±


    Ikimono, feeling a bit more comfortable around Sebastian, carefully reaches up and grabs the steering wheel. Sebastian, already thinking of Ikimono, looks down at their hands. Hands with flesh that looks far past being dead. Hands with holes that dot on clusters, some holes big and some holes small. Hands with fingertips that have hardly any nails to speak of, and some that have no skin atop them. Hands that look like the hands of a sculptor or seamstress.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m sure Peony would do your nails too,¡± Sebastian says.


    ¡°Would she?¡± Ikimono asks, ¡°I mean, I hardly know either of you.¡±


    Sebastian pauses before speaking. ¡°That will change soon enough. But we can start here.¡±


    ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, why not? Spinning your brains out is always a good way to bond with someone.¡±


    The Satyr¡¯s voice rings out again on a broken loudspeaker. ¡°I¡¯m coming around to check your lap bars, if you¡¯re spinning and I can¡¯t check them, and you fall out of the ride, that¡¯s on you.¡±


    Immediately, Adderall and Fuego grind the spinning of their car to a screeching halt. It¡¯s not that they would mind getting flung from the ride, but the Satyr sounded a little annoyed at them. The Satyr emerges from his booth and walks to each car, forcibly pushing each lap bar a little too far into the laps of everyone seated. When he is sure every restraint is even the slightest bit secure, he saunters his way back to the booth and starts to speak over the intercom again.


    ¡°Alright, gonna go over this once to make sure everyone¡¯s got some clue for what¡¯s happening,¡± he begins, ¡°Your hands, feet, wings, tails, tentacles, and whatever other appendages the quarterless bastard we call god has given you? Those stay in the ride at all times. If you don¡¯t do that you¡¯re gonna, uh, get struck by lightning and die or something, I don¡¯t know. The wheels on your cars make them spin. If you spin them too violently and the handle falls off, the entire car is gonna fall off the mechanical arm. Also, I think those arms are just entirely rusted on the inside. Nothing but rust. I could scrape the inside of them and give it to Frank Ugly and he would probably make cotton candy out of it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s comforting,¡± DJ chuckles.


    ¡°Uh, where was I?¡± He continues. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t remember the last time this ride was inspected, let alone repaired, probably back in ¡®82, but I¡¯ve been here for so long that I¡¯ve kind of stopped giving a flying foozle about it. But I¡¯m giving you a fair warning anyway so in case something happens and one of you dies I don¡¯t live with guilt for the rest of my life over not telling you about that. Uh, yeah. Also, I¡¯m pretty sure the rose gold car is in its last stages of life, so if a bolt comes out and hits you or something you all had better promise me you¡¯re gonna sue Sunshine and not me. If that twink comes at me with the ¡°hurr durr you should''ve inspected it¡± argument, I¡¯m just going to shoot him on sight. It¡¯s already happened twice and I¡¯m not letting it happen a third time. Smitty Warbenyagermanjenson looking bitch.¡±


    The others just stare at him.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± Juniper shouts.


    The Satyr shrugs. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s it. Let¡¯s hope I can get you on and off of this death machine safely.¡±


    The Satyr flips a couple levers on his control panel. A metallic screech runs down along the tower.


    ¡°Should we be concerned about that?¡± Sebastian whispers, leaning into Ikimono, ¡°About him?¡±


    ¡°Oh, absolutely,¡± Ikimono replies.


    With a crack and a jerk, the ride springs to life. They begin to spin around the tower, slowly rising up to the canopy as the arms begin to rotate. Sebastian takes a stronger grip on the wheel and looks over to Ikimono.


    ¡°If you want me to stop, tell me,¡± he says.


    ¡°Go, do it!¡± Ikimono smiles, their grip quickly becoming white-knuckle, ¡°Ikimashou!¡±


    The two triumphantly grab hold of the steering wheel and push it to the side. They grind against the rust at first, but as the inertia of the ride takes over, they slowly start to flip much easier. They barrel-roll along the circumference of the ride, and all the lights around them blend into a single spiral.


    The spinning is foreign to Ikimono at first. The ever-changing spiral of vision confuses them at first, but they take to it in no time at all. They join Sebastian in his pushing of the wheel, and soon the wind around them grows faster as the car spins with more and more force.


    ¡°Ikimono, slow down!¡± Sebastian calls, ¡°I¡¯m getting a bit dizzy,¡±


    ¡°I thought you said I¡¯d be the one asking us to slow down,¡± Ikimono laughs.


    ¡°I did say that, didn¡¯t I?¡± Sebastian replies, looking a little bit green.


    Ikimono lets go of the wheel, and soon the force of the car jerks Sebastian¡¯s hands away too. The two toss about like beached tuna, slamming into the sides, the lap bar, and even each other as the car continues to spin. Ikimono instinctively grabs the lap bar for safety, but Sebastian reaches out for the steering wheel. He turns it back clockwise, and soon the car steadies to a horizontal plane.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°Let¡¯s hope that doesn¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Sebastian lets go of the wheel, and the car begins to rock with the spinning of the arm. The two find themselves tossed around again, although this time they¡¯re a lot less worried about falling or getting sick.


    Just as slowly as the ride had started, it begins to come to an end. The arms stop spinning, leaving the cars to dangle at the bottoms of the metal beams. The cars sink down to the ground as they stop spinning around the tower. They stop about a foot from the ground, and the Satyr comes around to free everyone from the cars. As he comes around and helps them out, he congratulates each one of them on surviving the ordeal.


    ¡°Have you a name?¡± DJ asks, stepping out of the car.


    ¡°They call me Big Guy,¡± He replies, ¡°I think I had a proper name at some point, but I don¡¯t care enough to remember it, honestly.¡±


    ¡°You forgot your name?¡± DJ asks.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Happens a lot around here.¡±


    When Big Guy lets Sebastian and Ikimono out of their car, the two hurry over to their friends. Fuego¡¯s already covering his mouth, frantically looking for a bush to duck behind.


    ¡°So how was it, you guys?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°I had to ask Ikimono to stop spinning us,¡± Sebastian says with a laugh, ¡°I thought I was going to be the strong one when it came to spinning, but I was wrong.¡±


    Ikimono beams with pride. ¡°You sure were.¡±


    ¡°At least you''re not as bad as Juniper,¡± Adderall teases.


    ¡°Hey now,¡± Juniper protests, ¡°I know where my limits are. If you look real closely, Fuego¡¯s leaning over that railing and getting sick.¡±


    She points over to the corner by the Satyr¡¯s booth, and Fuego is right where she says ve is: hunched over the railing, hurling up glitter and skittles.


    ¡°Is he alright?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°Oh, sure,¡± Adderall replies, ¡°That happens sometimes.¡±


    ¡°At least he didn¡¯t get sick on the ride,¡± Peony grimaces.


    As the others continue to wait on Fuego, Sebastian leans down to Ikimono.


    ¡°I think we forgot to tell you our pronouns,¡± Sebastian explains, ¡°Peony¡¯s a ¡®she¡¯; I think Juniper¡¯s a ¡®she¡¯ too, but I think she walks into ¡®they¡¯ territory from time to time. Adderall¡¯s a ¡®he¡¯ and a ¡®she¡¯, either one works, but Adderall isn¡¯t called a ¡®he¡¯ very often, so it might make him feel nice; DJ¡¯s a ¡®they¡¯ but sometimes they¡¯re a ¡®he¡¯ too, but it¡¯s one of those situations where you have to be pretty close to them to call them a ¡®he¡¯; and Fuego¡¯s a ¡®ve¡¯.¡±


    ¡°A ¡®ve¡¯?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sebastian says. ¡°Like, ve is a little weird with ven¡¯s gender, so ve made up vens own pronouns for venself. Does that make sense?¡±


    Ikimono pauses and nods. ¡°Yeah, I think so. And you?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m a ¡®he¡¯, really. I¡¯ve been considering trying out what Fuego¡¯s up to, but I don¡¯t quite feel up to doing it. What are yours, Ikimono?¡±


    Ikimono jumps at the question. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I am.¡±


    ¡°Not yet, at least.¡±


    ¡°Sebastian, I didn¡¯t have a name until this afternoon. I don¡¯t know what a ¡®gender¡¯ is.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s, uh, fair. So, ¡®they¡¯ is fine? It¡¯s, uh, what you say if someone doesn¡¯t have one or is weird with theirs.¡±


    ¡°I guess? I mean, as long as I¡¯m not an ¡®it¡¯ to you.¡±


    ¡°Alright. If you want to change it, tell me, ok?¡±


    Ikimono nods.


    ¡°So is Fuego alright?¡± Sebastian asks, turning back to the group, ¡°Can we go?¡±


    ¡°I think I am,¡± Fuego replies, rubbing his neck as he rejoins them. ¡°So yeah.¡±


    DJ turns around and calls back to Big Guy. ¡°Thank you!¡±


    Bug Guy waves back in reply.


    They all leave the enclosure through the rusted open gate. The midway is much darker now, and much more claustrophobic at that. The lights overhead dangle into the path, and those around the stalls have dimmed. The only reliable source of vision comes from the glow of the neurons around them.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± Juniper asks.


    ¡°It is,¡± DJ replies, lifting their wrist up to their eyesight and squinting at it, ¡°Time for me to get a watch.¡±


    Everyone rolls their eyes as DJ giggles to themselves.


    ¡°Do things close here?¡± Juniper asks to no one in particular.


    ¡°When the lights all fade to red, we need to leave,¡± Ikimono replies.


    ¡°Oh, now that¡¯s not concerning at all,¡± Fuego mutters.


    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t think anything happens,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°Right? That¡¯s just what Sunshine told me, I think.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever bothered to stay around past then?¡± DJ asks.


    Ikimono opens their mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. When they finally speak, they stutter.


    ¡°I, I,¡± They pause to think, ¡°No, I haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the harm in trying?¡± DJ says, ¡°Worst case, we¡¯ll just call for initiative and take whatever¡¯s coming to us.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, Ikimono,¡± Peony says, ¡°If anything happens, we know what we¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°We usually get paid for it though,¡± Juniper adds.


    ¡°And that¡¯s how you know we¡¯re good at it,¡± Peony replies.


    Ikimono looks at them in wonder. What are the odds of an entire fighting troupe finding their way here?


    ¡°Wow,¡± they gawk, ¡°I suppose it¡¯s not often you get out, then.¡±


    DJ shrugs. ¡°Eh, we get out enough. Most of the time we get sent pretty far away for work.¡±


    ¡°Well, you know what they say, DJ,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°If you love what you do, it¡¯s not work at all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± DJ lies, ¡°It¡¯s not work then, I guess.¡±


    ¡°So, where to next?¡± Juniper asks.


    ¡°Is there a fun house here, Ikimono?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Ikimono nods. ¡°Of course there is.¡±


    ¡°How big is it to walk through?¡± DJ asks, ¡°Are the hallways cramped?¡±


    Ikimono eyes DJ up and down. Their height might not be a problem, they could always duck through, but with outstretched wings? That might be a challenge.


    ¡°Can you close your wings?¡± Ikimono says, their voice going squeaky with stress.


    DJ nods, folding their wings into their back. It¡¯s dicey to say whether the halls would be big enough for them to fit. At least for the first quarter of it, the rooms always get smaller the farther along they go.


    They don¡¯t want to bear the news, though. Goodness, if there¡¯s one person here they don¡¯t want to be mean to, it¡¯s DJ. Not just that they could send them back to Sunshine in a soup can if they wanted to, but they seem like a good friend.


    ¡°How about we see when we get there,¡± they say, hoping to come across as polite as possible.


    DJ dips their head, signaling for them to lead the way. Ikimono bows in return, then turns to lead the others to the fun house.


    How does anyone trust me? They think to themselves, For all they know, I could be out to kill them or something. I mean, isn¡¯t that what everyone thinks of everybody else?


    Ikimono looks back at the group. They all follow them constantly, occasionally looking at the other stalls or talking amongst themselves. A sinking feeling burrows inside their chest.


    I¡¯m just a Judas Goat, aren¡¯t I? They think.


    Ikimono continues on, slowly cowering into themselves as they inch closer and closer to the fun house. Ikimono finds themself clutching at their stomach, but there isn¡¯t anything inside of it worth throwing up. If there¡¯s anything in it at all, that is.


    They feel a hand on their shoulder, then Peony¡¯s voice. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    Ikimono nods. They¡¯re lying.


    Eventually, Ikimono stops before a large red house. There isn¡¯t a door per se, but a large spinning drum leading into a bright room of soft neon obstacles. The entire front of the lower floor is glass, and from where they stand in the midway, everyone can see the traps and tricks within the building.


    DJ looks at the drum, idly spinning without so much as a carnie to guard it. Then they look into the glass walls, and notice how close together the vinyl bumpers and drums are. It looks claustrophobic, even for someone as small as Juniper.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll have to sit this one out,¡± DJ sighs in disappointment. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, you guys.¡±


    Ikimono is almost hesitant to respond. ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°I might sit this one out too,¡± Fuego adds, ¡°How much spinning is in here?¡±


    ¡°However much you¡¯d expect from a fun house, I guess,¡± they shrug.


    Fuego scratches at the scabs on the back of his hands. ¡°How mad do you think whoever runs this would be if I threw up in there?¡±


    ¡°Sunshine?¡± Ikimono says, ¡°Him? Very.¡±


    ¡°Oh dear. I¡¯m with DJ on this one.¡±


    ¡°Alright. I understand.¡±


    Fuego takes one look at Adderall and walks beside DJ. Adderall follows ven.


    ¡°Adderall?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°She gets really bad separation anxiety with Fuego,¡± Peony explains, ¡°Fuego gets that way too when ve¡¯s not around her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine,¡± They reply.


    ¡°And I think I¡¯ll stay with them too,¡± Juniper says.


    ¡°Why?¡± Peony asks.


    Juniper pauses, her ears perking up in surprise. ¡°Because I¡¯m going to scout out the food stalls so we know what¡¯s here to eat.¡±


    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to come with us?¡± Peony asks, ¡°Ikimono knows where all the food stalls are, right?¡±


    Ikimono nods.


    Juniper looks at Ikimono, trying hard not to grimace or cringe.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a lot quicker if I go and do it myself,¡± She replies.


    Peony glares at her, but decides not to do anything. ¡°Suit yourself, then.¡±


    The four turn to walk away, and Juniper scurries off faster than the others. Peony keeps watching them, glaring at Juniper as she disappears into the lights of the midway.


    ¡°She¡¯s not sorry at all, is she?¡± Peony grumbles.


    ¡°Take it on the chin, Peony,¡± Sebastian says, hiding his disappointment with the same opaqueness of saran wrap. ¡°You know how she is with me sometimes.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t directed at you, I don¡¯t think,¡± Peony replies.


    Finally, someone with the right idea, Ikimono thinks to themselves.


    Ikimono still finds themself hurt by Juniper as they step into the rolling barrel at the front. If she was right about them, why did it feel so wrong? But as they spin around as Peony and Sebastian push the barrel around more, the idea tumbles out of their head. They stick to the walls from the force for a brief second, then roll back down along the twisting spirals of teal and maroon which coat the inside of the barrel. When at last they fall out on the other side, Peony and Sebastian fall down at their sides. The sound of music hits their ears, and they know their journey has begun.


    The walls here, where there are walls, at least, are completely black. Some of them have splatterings of neon paint or patterns of dayglow, but for the most part, the vinyl foam obstacles are what gives the place its color. Right next to the holding where the trio fell into are pillars of plastic cylinders stretching from one wall to the other, forming a dense maze of stickiness. Sebastian steps out first, throwing himself over one of the cylinders and snaking into the mass. Peony follows close behind, ducking underneath another to crawl on the ground beneath the maze. Not wanting to be left behind, Ikimono throws themselves into the center, wriggling through the weaving mass of bright colors in the hopes of finding their friends.


    The maze is like crawling through the dense thickets of jungle in the amazon, except now it reeks of the miasma of old socks. Sebastian finds he has to pull his hood over his head and his sleeves over his hands to avoid the overwhelming stickiness of the colored vinyl. At least the tight space is comforting. If there¡¯s one thing Sebastian wants, it''s pressure, and the suffocating mass of soft play makes him feel like he¡¯s being squashed from all sides.


    Peony, on the other hand, is trying her hardest to stave off the sock smell. She holds her void hand over her nose and mouth, crawling on her stomach to try and find a way out. As she finds the remnants of bandaids and dismayed toy cars, she only hastens her pace. When her path is finally blocked by a column, she takes the chance to climb up into the weavings, only to find herself more distressed by the overpowering miasma. She races through the remaining beams, then falls out haphazardly on the other side. Sebastian falls out not long after her.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ikimono?¡± She asks.


    As if on queue, Ikimono crawls out from the thicket of plastic, shaking little bits of debris from their hair.


    ¡°Right here!¡± they reply.


    Sebastian helps Peony to her feet as Ikimono falls from the posts. The three of them continue on, through punching bags suspiciously shaped like body bags dangling from the ceilings, writhing foam noodles from the walls, and foam hills protruding from the floor until they at last come to the glass walls of the front of the house. Before them lies a path of rollers, false floors, and spinning circles.


    Sebastian, a little too excited, immediately slips and falls on the rollers. Peony laughs a little, and Ikimono joins her, their hands over their mouth to muffle their giggling. Sebastian grabs the rails on the glass to try and help himself up, but he continues to slip and slide with all the grace of a newborn foal to cross to the false floors. Peony follows him once he¡¯s done, gliding on the rollers like a skater on ice. Ikimono, with a slight touch of hubris, throws themselves on to the rollers, shooting across them and tripping Sebastian and Peony on the other side. They¡¯re nervous that they¡¯ve angered them both at first, but when they hear their laughter, they know they¡¯ve done the opposite. They help Peony up, then Sebastian, before carefully leading the trek through the false floors.


    Ikimono triumphantly guides his friends through the unpredictable dipping and springing of the false floors, past the spinning and turning of the floor disks, and up the wobbling stairs with minimal casualties from Sebastian and Peony. When they reach the second floor, they stand with a choice of four doors, each one marked with some sort of painted sign. On the first, the word Playground is written in old, once vibrant paints. It¡¯s dusty, sure, but not threatening in the slightest. On the second, the word Mirrors is created in a mosaic of shards from glass bottles. Ikimono recalls a time where they pricked their finger on one of the shards. If they look close enough, the stain is still there. On the third, a simple question mark. The last one, all the way at the end of the hall, is a bit more ominous.


    ¡°Keep Locked At All Times¡±


    For the most part, the trio ignores the last door. The first night¡¯s not the time to get in trouble. Or find out what¡¯s inside, for that matter. Time is a virtue, and that virtue will come soon enough.


    ¡°Which door?¡± Ikimono says, walking in front of the three and presenting them as if they were a ringmaster themselves.


    ¡°What¡¯s in Mirrors?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Mirrors, obviously!¡± Ikimono cheers, ¡°Mirrors of all kinds, ones that distort every image placed before them!¡±


    ¡°And Playground¡¯s just a playground?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°A lot like what we just came up through. But it all funnels out to the same place at the end.¡±


    ¡°Can we go into the mirror room?¡± Peony asks, turning to Sebastian.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Sebastian beams.


    Ikimono takes hold of the old brass doorknob and gives it a turn. They open the door, and bow to motion the two inside the dark hall. Sebastian and Peony step inside, and Peony even gives them a little ¡°thank you¡± as she enters. Ikimono shuts the door behind them all, getting the tails of their purple scarf stuck in the crack between the door and the frame. They tug at it, and soon it comes free.


    Peony and Sebastian wait for their friend in front of a mirror, warped so that the viewer is either far too tall and thin or far too short and fat. The three stand and marvel at themselves and each other through the dusty prism. Well, two of them did, anyway. Ikimono hides themselves conveniently between Sebastian and Peony so as not to be noticed in the mirror.


    Unfortunately for them, Peony notices.


    ¡°Would you like to see?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Ikimono smiles, ¡°I¡¯ve been here a thousand times. I know I¡¯m as short as a can of tuna fish at this one.¡±


    Peony looks at the mirror, then back at Ikimono. The two are the same height, and Peony looks to be rather wide instead of rather small in the mirror¡¯s reflection. She brushes it off, though. It isn¡¯t a nuance worth worrying about.


    When they find themselves satisfied with the first mirror, they move to the next, then to another. Eventually, they split up to look at whatever mirror each one of them wants to.


    Ikimono is a little wary in the mirrors, always making sure either nobody is looking their way, or that they¡¯re standing behind Sebastian or Peony. They don¡¯t want to scare the two off with their reflection, or their lack of one at that. So they lean against a broken mirror by the end of the line of glass, tapping their foot to the little chiptune which hums in the hall of mirrors.


    Sebastian chooses the mirrors in which he looks sort of at random. He darts from one to the next, trying to make sense of himself in every reflection he sees. He seems ever so slightly too tall for the mirrors, though. All of them except for one, one in the middle, beneath the glow of a black light. When he steps before it, there appears to be rusty red flowing from where his wires weave in and out of his body, all over his hands, and from his nose. His wings are gone, and as soon as he notices, an aching pain winces down his back. The longer he stares into it, the imagined smells of formaldehyde sting at his nose and burn the back of his throat. His eyes begin to turn gray and sink within his head. At last, he can bear to look no more, and turns away from the mirror. Concerned, Ikimono walks over to where he stands.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Sebastian asks, slightly shaken at the ordeal.


    ¡°This mirror shows you what your body looks like back on Earth,¡± Ikimono lies, ¡°Pretty spooky, huh?¡±


    ¡°You have no reflection?¡± Sebastian remarks.


    Ikimono¡¯s heart just about stops.


    ¡°Oh, me?¡± Ikimono says, realizing he¡¯s standing in front of the mirror. ¡°My body¡¯s rotten and gone, Sebastian.¡±


    ¡°And in the other mirror?¡±


    Ikimono looks over their shoulder at the mirror beside them.


    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± Ikimono says, almost laughing off Sebastian¡¯s worry. ¡°Odd, isn¡¯t it? This mirror doesn¡¯t show reflections for anybody. It¡¯s almost magic!¡±


    Sebastian isn¡¯t exactly comforted by Ikimono.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you try another mirror?¡± Ikimono suggests, sensing Sebastian¡¯s unease.


    Ikimono hurries off to try and find Peony while Sebastian tries to find another mirror. Sebastian watches them run off, and notices they¡¯ve got no reflection in any mirror.


    Peony is engrossed in the mirror of her choosing. She chooses them carefully, spending a little time at each one to fully investigate the image within it. In this mirror in particular, she finds herself engrossed.


    When she gazes at her face, she finds half of it has been torn open into a maw of jagged teeth, spiraling down around the side of her head and down her neck. Her void arms grow teeth of its own, jutting about like jagged metal. Her fingers on the same arm are more like claws, and she clacks them against the mirror as if he was tapping morse code to the other side. An extra set of tentacles emerges from her back, thicker and stronger than her neat, nimble tentacles she wields now. A crown of ghastly, jagged horns rounds her head, and the polished onyx horns of a ram frame her face. In the gaze of her reflection, she finds herself knowing fear like an old friend.


    ¡°Are you ok?¡± Ikimono asks.


    Peony jumps, startled and yet relieved that they would interrupt their looking. ¡°Ah, yes, I was just, uh¡­¡±


    Her voice trails off as she looks back at the monster in the mirror. The monster looks back.


    ¡°What is this mirror, Ikimono?¡± She asks, brushing aside her worries.


    Ikimono lies again, this time a little more eloquently than they did with Sebastian. ¡°This one makes you look like a monster.¡±


    Peony steps back from the mirror, takes a deep breath, and nervously laughs.


    Ikimono smiles, this time telling the truth. ¡°It¡¯s not going to get you, Peony, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°In my dreams, maybe,¡± she says, a little nervous laugh intruding on her remark.


    Sebastian walks over to the two, ignoring Peony¡¯s reflection in the mirror. ¡°Do you think we ought to head back to the others?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Peony replies, resisting the temptation to look back in.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ikimono nods, looking in the mirror as if on Peony¡¯s behalf.


    The three take their leave from the hall of mirrors. For such a small hall, it seems impossibly long, and the distance that should take seconds or minutes feels like hours. None of them dare so much as to glance in the direction of the glass to their sides.


    Ikimono almost feels bad for lying to them both about the mirrors. They rub at the sleeves of their cardigan, trying to find a texture that will let them clear their thoughts.


    Would it have been better to tell them about the mirrors? They think, Maybe they ought to know, just so they¡¯d think about leaving a little.


    Ikimono looks up at the two.


    No, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just an illusion. Besides, they¡¯re nice. Maybe they ought to stay. They¡¯d do so well here, and I¡¯m sure they wouldn¡¯t mind if I hung around with them. And they¡¯re fighters, after all. Maybe I could join them.


    Ikimono stops rubbing the sleeves of their cardigan. They take a breath, and the thoughts go away. Perhaps they¡¯re satisfied.


    Did I just help Sunshine?


    Ikimono shakes his head in the hopes of tossing the single intrusion out of their mind. They didn¡¯t even want to think about him. And plus, what could he do to them, anyway? They all could fight him off anytime they wanted to. It was just them who was the coward.


    After their trek, Ikimono opens the exit door and allows Sebastian and Peony to exit. They look back for a moment¡¯s hesitation, then rejoin their friends in the last alcove, dimly lit with the light of old incandescent lanterns. Ikimono walks over to a cramped, dark plastic tube, takes hold of the metal bar above it, and jumps up to stand on the wall.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the slide to leave,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°Shall I lead the way again?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe?¡± Peony asks, still skeptical from the mirrors.


    ¡°Yeah, it is,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like it, but hey, it¡¯s a circus.¡±


    ¡°Are we allowed to go down together at once?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Ikimono cocks their head to the side. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Like, you sit down, then someone sits behind you, and someone sits behind them,¡± Sebastian explains.


    Ikimono looks around the alcove.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any signs against it.¡±


    Ikimono looks back at the two.


    ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t say you can¡¯t, you can, right?¡±


    ¡°Can we do that?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°If you¡¯re fine with it, that is.¡±


    Ikimono pauses. They can hardly believe they trust them enough already.


    ¡°If you want to, that¡¯s fine,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°I¡¯m humbled that you¡¯d let me do that.¡±


    ¡°How about you sit first,¡± Sebastian begins, ¡°Then Peony sits behind you, and I¡¯ll sit behind her.¡±


    Ikimono nods, then swings off of the wall and into the tube, inching forward so Peony can sit behind them. Sebastian helps Peony into the tube, and she sits behind Ikimono. Ikimono feels her bump into them, and for the first time in decades they remember what another person feels like. The two scoot forward a little more, and Sebastian slides in, his arms and legs just long enough to capture both in his grasp.


    ¡°Is this ok, Ikimono?¡± He asks.


    Ikimono¡¯s face is aglow with rusty red. ¡°Yeah, it is.¡±


    Sebastian gently pushes against the walls of the tube, and at once the three begin their descent through the long, metal tube. The only light in the metal tunnel is the dim glow of their eyes, and a train of purple, blue, and green shooting through the void. They jostle, bump, and thump their way down, until at last they fall into a ball pit by the midway.


    The three are all smiles and laughs as they sit in the ball pit. They pick on Sebastian in particular, whose hair was treated rather unkindly by the static in the tube. He doesn¡¯t mind, though. If there¡¯s any two people who can make fun of him like that, it¡¯s Peony and Ikimono.


    When their banter dies away, Sebastian helps his two friends up from the ball pit. Ikimono brushes a couple rolly-pollies off of their sleeves, and points out to Peony she¡¯s got some on her back. With her permission, they brush the small creatures off of her, careful to be gentle to her and the bugs.


    ¡°Any particular reason for the pillbugs?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°The balls in this pit are also pillbugs,¡± Ikimono explains, ¡°They get their color when they get bigger.¡±


    Sebastian¡¯s eyes go wide as he stares into the ¡°ball¡± pit. ¡°They¡¯re just bugs?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ikimono beams, picking up a ball, ¡°See?¡±


    The red ball unravels itself, slowly revealing its prickly legs. Its antennae pop out from underneath the plate of its head and wiggle about. When the insect finally unravels itself, Ikimono cradles it in their arms, resting its iridescent back against their arms.


    ¡°Cute, aren¡¯t they?¡± Ikimono beams.


    Sebastian and Peony look on in bewilderment.


    Ikimono pets the bug as though it were a beloved pet. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, though, they¡¯re all sick. The big ones, at least. They get red, and then orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo, and when they turn violet they can¡¯t unroll anymore.¡±


    Sebastian¡¯s face drops. ¡°There¡¯s dead bugs in there?¡±


    ¡°No. When they start turning purple, something gets them out of there. I¡¯ve never seen a purple roly-poly before.¡±


    Ikimono sits the bug back into the pit. It crawls into the mass of colorful insects, and soon some of them start to stir as well.


    ¡°If we wait long enough, they¡¯ll all uncoil,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°But I think we ought to get back to the others.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of bugs,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°But I¡¯d rather not stay for that.¡±


    Sebastian turns away from the ball pit, and Peony follows suit. Ikimono reluctantly looks back at the pit, then walks along with their friends.


    What a shame, Ikimono thinks, They¡¯ll eat pizza crusts right out of your hands.


    Ikimono walks up beside Sebastian and Peony, and the three of them walk down the midway once more. The sounds of commotion from the other booths and attractions have long faded away, and some of the stalls have shut off their lights entirely. Ikimono pretends to not be nervous in the growing darkness. When at last they come to a large clearing, Ikimono leads them in. For such a dense forest of neurons, one would think that large clearings should be impossible, which is understandable, because they¡¯re supposed to be.


    The clearing is not as big as you imagine it to be, though it does have some size to it. The neurons are lined with stalls of all kinds of good food, from Portarian treats to Earthly fare. The scents of oils and spices of every kind settle in the headspace of all who enter, though none can ever seem to agree on a prevailing smell. In the open space between the stalls lies a sea of tables and chairs, each one neatly carved from odd bits of trees struck down in their prime at the hands of an odd bolt of lightning. No roots of myelin jut through the dusty ground here, nor do flickers of thought.


    Across from the entrance, amidst the sea of tables, is the rest of their party. When the trio rejoins them, they find themselves greeted by the comfort of small chatter over smaller hors d''oeuvres. Across from their table is a stage woven from lesioned neurons turned gray from sclerosis, and atop it is a mouse-man perched atop a soapbox and strumming a tune on something not quite unlike a guitar.


    Sebastian takes his place at the table without so much as a word, and Peony does the same. She looks back at Ikimono, but they don¡¯t seem too keen on sitting down with them.


    ¡°How was the fun house?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°They don¡¯t call it that for nothing,¡± Sebastian replies, ¡°There were a couple other different things to do in there, and we went for the Hall of Mirrors. Boy, were those mirrors weird.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± DJ says, ¡°Do you want something to eat? There¡¯s a roll stand with some spring rolls and such, there¡¯s one with some fried snacks, there¡¯s a boba stand with little sweets¡­¡±


    ¡°Boba?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Yep,¡± DJ nods, ¡°in that little yellow stand over there.¡±


    ¡°Sebastian,¡± Peony says, ¡°I¡¯m going to go get some boba and maybe a pastry. Do you want anything?¡±


    Sebastian shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I was thinking of getting a hokey pokey.¡±


    ¡°Ikimono?¡± Peony asks.


    Ikimono stares at Peony for a moment. They¡¯ve never heard of either thing before.


    ¡°What¡¯s boba?¡± Ikimono asks, hoping the others at the table won¡¯t make fun of them for not knowing.


    ¡°It¡¯s like tea,¡± Peony explains, ¡°But it¡¯s a sort of milky tea, and they put little tapioca pearls in it. It¡¯s a drink and a snack in one, sorta.¡±


    Ikimono turns to Sebastian. ¡°And what¡¯s a hokey pokey?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s shredded ice,¡± Sebastian explains, ¡°But they mold it into a square, and they put syrup in it. Sometimes if you ask, you can get anything in the world.¡±


    Ikimono looks at Peony, then back at Sebastian. When¡¯s the last time they had eaten something? Could they even taste anything anymore?


    ¡°If it¡¯s alright with you, can I come with you, Sebastian?¡± Ikimono asks, ¡°Maybe I can get boba some other time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Peony says, ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll have the chance to get snacks another time.¡±


    Peony and Sebastian turn to go their separate ways, and Ikimono holds a lingering stare at Peony before hurrying off to join Sebastian¡¯s side.


    Did I anger her? They think, Oh, I don¡¯t want to make her angry.


    Ikimono follows behind Sebastian as he walks up to the little white cart. There seems to be no one behind it. Well, there is a something, not a someone. But paying no heed to the fact that it lacked a face, Sebastian takes two teeth from his pocket and orders.


    ¡°A lingonberry hokey pokey, please,¡± He says to the Something, ¡°Ikimono?¡±


    Ikimono stands frozen in anxiety.


    ¡°Ikimono? Should I order for you?¡±


    Ikimono nods. They don¡¯t want to talk anymore.


    Sebastian turns back to the Something. ¡°And one grape hokey pokey, please.¡±


    The Something takes the two teeth from Sebastian¡¯s sleeve-covered hand and grinds ice from the top of a jagged ice block. With its second and third hand, it forms the ice into cubes in a little metal tray. With its first, it dumps the teeth into what should have been its mouth. Then, it grabs two bottles from the inside of the cart, one red and one purple, and drenches the ice with color. It hands the hokey pokies to Sebastian, and Sebastian gives it a quiet thanks before handing the purple one to Ikimono.


    Sebastian turns to walk back to the table, turning back around to make sure Ikimono is still following behind him. Ikimono can¡¯t help but clutch pathetically at the paper cup in which the cube resides. It¡¯s so deeply purple, more purple than anything he¡¯s ever seen. They imagine it bleeding into the air as paint bleeds through water.


    As the two walk back to the table, Sebastian starts to munch at his snack. Ikimono just stares at the cube in awe.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Ikimono nods. It¡¯s rude to walk and eat, or at least, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been taught, they think.


    ¡°Why grape?¡± Ikimono asks.


    Sebastian shrugs. ¡°Your eyes are purple.¡±


    Ikimono looks up at Sebastian. Sebastian looks back down at them. Ikimono hesitantly takes his left forearm and holds it level in front of them, then places their right hand atop it before pulling it up. Sebastian can¡¯t quite understand, but something deep inside of him knows it means thank you.


    When at last the two return to the table, Ikimono takes their seat next to Sebastian towards the end of the table. Peony isn¡¯t back yet, and Juniper scowls when she finds that Ikimono has taken her seat. Ikimono doesn¡¯t notice, and focuses their attention on the hokey pokey.


    When they take their first bite, they¡¯re confused at first. It¡¯s cold, it''s sweet, and it¡¯s crunchy all at once. On the second bite, though, they find that the coldness, the sweetness, the crunchiness means something. There¡¯s flavor, yes, sweet flavor. Something Ikimono forgot long ago, but now welcomes back like a dear friend. The texture is a delight too, something which danced on the tongue for a fleeting moment before melting away into nothingness again. The cold struck their mouth and left a painful buzz in their head, but not painful enough to deter them from eating. Why did they forget it all? What made them forget the wonderful taste of spring evenings and the warm feeling of a friend beside them?


    Is this the ¡°happiness¡± I¡¯ve heard so much about?


    Their thoughts are broken by Sebastian¡¯s voice. ¡°Is it good?¡±


    Ikimono nods. ¡°Can I pay you back?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°My treat.¡±


    Ikimono smiles, and a little warm trickle of blood seeps from their tacked-open eyelid and rolls down their cheek as they turn back to their treat.


    ¡°Are you,¡± Juniper asks, ¡°Bleeding?¡±


    Ikimono¡¯s eyes widen, and they recoil in shock before rubbing the rust away with their sleeve. They turn away from Juniper, cowering into themselves again.


    ¡°That¡¯s not supposed to happen,¡± they mutter, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Peony returns with a cup of brownish milk in her hand. The little black pearls at the bottom of her cup jiggle as she sets them down on the table.


    ¡°Do I need to pull up a chair?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Yeah, unless someone wants to move tables,¡± Juniper replies.


    Ikimono raises their hand. ¡°I can move.¡±


    Peony looks down at Ikimono¡¯s shrimpish posture. She gives Juniper a look of disappointment before resting her free hand on their shoulder.


    ¡°No, you stay,¡± Peony says, ¡°I¡¯ll grab a chair.¡±


    Peony turns around to the next table and grabs a chair, lifting it up from the sandy ground below and turning it to the head of the table beside Ikimono. She sits down and begins sipping at her tea. Ikimono lifts their head up to Peony, who gives them a little smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± She whispers, ¡°You¡¯re alright.¡±


    The seven sit contently at the table as the muse behind them strums a song. Something about the stars and seas above, but not quite a shanty or ballad of adventure. Nobody quite pays attention to it. Except perhaps for Ikimono, who doesn¡¯t have much to say to anyone else anyway. And besides, the muse behind them is someone worth saying hello to. Or at least, perhaps, worth saying hello to once everyone else has finished their food.


    They don¡¯t need to be the one to say hello, though. As soon as the mouse-man looks down from the inky sky above, they recognize Ikimono¡¯s silhouette at the table below.


    ¡°Hullo, Little Buddy,¡± He says.


    Ikimono turns around, catching the attention of everyone else at the table. They wave up to the mouse, and the mouse¡¯s eyes dart about to all the others sitting at the table.


    His ears perk up in excitement, and his hat almost tips off his head. ¡°Are these your friends?¡±


    Ikimono looks around the table. ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Oh goodness,¡± he grins, putting his paw to his chest, ¡°I am so glad. Are they new here?¡±


    Ikimono nods. ¡°These two here next to me are Sebastian and Peony. There¡¯s DJ down by the end, then Adderall and Fuego, and Juniper.¡±


    Each one perks their heads up as they hear their name being said. They each look at Ikimono, then at the mouse-man, who almost has happy tears forming in his eyes.


    ¡°They are new performers, then?¡± He says, almost disappointed. His sorrow lasts a minute before he scoffs it off himself. ¡°But they are your friends, Little Buddy! You have friends!¡±


    ¡°Little Buddy?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°You mean Ikimono?¡±


    ¡°Ikimono?¡± He beams, the tears finally showing on his cheeks, ¡°Little Buddy, you have a name now too?¡±


    Ikimono nods with pride. ¡°Yes, Desmond. My name is Ikimono.¡±


    Desmond cheers with delight, almost falling off of the seat of his soapbox. He sets his instrument on the ground and hops down from the stage, swiftly moving behind Ikimono.


    Just like Juniper, Desmond is made of fabric instead of flesh. He once was rather soft and white, but with time and love, has grown rather scraggly, thin, and gray. His attire, too, is worn from age, and the green of his crocheted jacket and vest is ashen from dust. Still, he carries himself with the humble pride of a duke, even with an arm hastily sewn back onto his body.


    He places a paw on Ikimono¡¯s shoulder and waves to the others. Fuego notices the patterns on his jacket are the same sort of patterns he finds on slavic tapestries.


    ¡°Hullo¡± he begins, somewhat awkwardly, ¡°I am Desmond. Ikimono¡¯s been here for quite a long time, and in that time we have become, oh, what do you say? Found family, yes?¡±


    Ikimono smiles, ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Alright, found family it is,¡± Desmond continues, ¡°Circus is a bit, well, hectic sometimes, but those of us who stay try to make it easier for each other as best we can. And I am glad Ikimono-- That is what you said, right? Ikimono? I heard you right?¡±


    ¡°Ikimono.¡±


    ¡°Right then. --I am glad Ikimono is helping you out. Now it is --wait, I guess it would be ¡®they¡¯ now-- they are a little weirdo, but I am sure you are all little weirdos, so I think you will like them.¡±


    A little laugh comes out from behind Ikimono¡¯s grin. ¡°Desmond,¡±


    ¡°Oh, I am embarrassing you in front of your friends, am I?¡± He smiles, ¡°I will let you all to each other. Ikimono, I am proud of you, and when I tell Maryelle, she is going to be very proud of you, but I will tell you all about that when I see you again.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Desmond.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and one more thing. When you leave, take shortcut by the stage over to left. You will get to tree faster. I do not want to see Ikimono alone tomorrow because you were out when lights turned red.¡±


    ¡°The lights,¡± Ikimono says, a sudden flash of fear filling their eyes, ¡°Oh, the lights! I think we ought to go, guys. Right now.¡±


    Ikimono jumps up from their chair, and the others follow behind. As they pass Desmond, they give him a quick fist-bump before leading their friends down the shortcut at breakneck speed.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± they call, sprinting down the back alleyway, ¡°I think I feel something in the neurons!¡±


    The others are confused, but are too busy running to consider it. Except for DJ and Juniper, who have already taken flight.


    Ikimono can¡¯t quite hear what¡¯s on the neuron trail tonight, but whatever it is, it¡¯s anger. No, not anger. Malice, that¡¯s the word. Towards them? Maybe, but they sometimes feel like every bit of malice is for them. It certainly would end up for them, that¡¯s for sure.


    Ikimono doesn¡¯t have enough focus to notice the scenery around them as they run. The only things they¡¯re focused on are the feeling of dread in their mind, the path ahead, and the looming lights slowly fading away to red.


    Soon, they see the glow of the hub tree within their sights. They¡¯re exhausted, but they try to pick up their pace as fast as they can, if for nobody else then their friends. They keep running, through the dust, up the stairs, and to their platform, only stopping to make sure everyone made it through alright.


    To their relief, everyone did. They¡¯re sweaty, panting, leaning against the trunk for rest, but they are safe. Ikimono rushes over to the railing overlooking the ground below, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar silhouette.


    They do. The tall, slender shadow on the ground down below taunts them with its crescent-moon eyes. It stands agitated, then sneaks away like a fox into the woods. Ikimono glares at the figure, who they know could never come up to their sanctuary no matter how hard they try.


    ¡°If you want them,¡± They call out, ¡°You have to get through me first!¡±


    Ikimono turns back to the others, who have all seemed to have caught their breaths.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for making you run like that,¡± Ikimono sighs, ¡°I didn¡¯t want anyone to get hurt is all.¡±


    DJ waves their hand. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. There was something down there, wasn¡¯t there?¡±


    Ikimono isn¡¯t sure whether to tell the whole truth or omit. They¡¯re leaning against the biggest speaker in the circus, after all.


    ¡°Something, yeah,¡± they reply, ¡°It can¡¯t reach us here, though. This is our sanctuary.¡±


    DJ nods solemnly. ¡°Good, we need one of those if we could be put in danger like that.¡±


    ¡°Say, where¡¯s Desmond from?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t talk about it much,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°I think he¡¯s from somewhere where they use cyrillic. You really ought to hear him sing in his tongue. You¡¯d think it was an angel.¡±


    ¡°I saw the patterns on his coat, and figured I¡¯d ask,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Plus, I had a hard time remembering ¡®the¡¯ when I came up here.¡±


    ¡°Tonight was fun, though!¡± Sebastian beams, ¡°Thank you, Ikimono, for showing us around.¡±


    Ikimono bows. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to come with us any time,¡± Peony adds, ¡°We want you to be our friend.¡±


    Juniper rolls her eyes as the others agree with Peony. She doesn¡¯t dare say anything, though.


    ¡°Really?¡± Ikimono asks, putting their hand to their chest.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t we?¡± Fuego adds, ¡°You¡¯re cool!¡±


    ¡°Aw, you guys are gonna make my little rotten heart skip a beat.¡±


    ¡°Take it on the chin,¡± Adderall smiles, ¡°You¡¯re welcome with us anytime.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Juniper says, ¡°I don¡¯t know about you all, but I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m going to sleep, everyone.¡±


    Juniper walks off from the group, and everyone wishes her a good night¡¯s rest.


    Even that sickly little runt, Ikimono.


    ¡°So, we have the show tomorrow, and then what?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Not much of anything,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°There¡¯s all sorts of backstage stuff you can do for your acts, but there¡¯s not many other obligations unless--¡±


    Ikimono looks back down at the ground below.


    ¡°Unless you¡¯re asked.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± DJ says.


    ¡°Say, do you think we could find a spot to practice with?¡± Adderall says, ¡°You can tie me up to a tree and pull a Willy Tell!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a tomorrow problem,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°Let¡¯s get to bed.¡±


    The two wave and leave, and the others wave back.


    ¡°Guess I¡¯d better go too,¡± DJ says with a yawn. ¡°You¡¯re cool, Ikimono, remember that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you,¡± Ikimono smiles, waving as DJ turns to leave.


    The trio stand in silence for a moment, looking at each other and around at the neurons. All of them were thinking the same thing, all about the neurons, and yet each one of them thought the others would think them crazy for mentioning it. Finally, Peony breaks the silence.


    ¡°Thank you, Ikimono, for everything,¡± She says, ¡°I think I¡¯ll be taking my leave for the evening. Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be with you in a minute,¡± Sebastian calls, watching her walk away, ¡°But thanks, Ikimono. It sure was a good time.¡±


    Ikimono smiles. ¡°Always a good time on Front Street.¡±

 The Sky is Getting Darker

    Peony enters the boxcar as swiftly as a gust of wind. She takes off her zori and sets them right by the door, then quickly walks to the closet. She dashes in and leans against the back of the door, trying to put the thought of being seen out of her mind. She unties her obi, then folds the belt and puts it on a shelf. She holds her kimono shut with her hands as she paces the closet to look for pajamas. When at last she finds them, she slowly takes off her kimono and puts on the pajamas.


    The pajamas aren¡¯t built for comfort. Sure, they¡¯re soft, and perhaps if she wore them for longer they¡¯d be warm, but they don¡¯t cover her nearly enough. The girlish cartoons only hide what needs to be hidden, and even then, only barely. She doesn¡¯t fear the sight of her own skin, far from it, but someone else seeing it?


    She slumps down to sit against the door, and the pit within her stomach opens. She tosses her kimono over her shoulders as though it were a blanket.


    There is a knock on the closet door.


    ¡°Peony? It¡¯s just me. Let me know when you¡¯re done in there so I can change.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± She mumbles.


    ¡°Are you alright in there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, just these pajamas. They don¡¯t hide much, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s the rub.¡±


    The two sit in silence for a moment or two.


    ¡°Peony, how about you wear my pajamas instead? I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be a little more comfortable than what you have.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, can I do that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll have to come in the closet, though. I won¡¯t look, I promise.¡±


    Peony steps back from the door, tucking herself in one of the wardrobes as Sebastian opens the door. He covers his eyes with one hand and feels around with the other.


    ¡°Marco?¡± He asks.


    Peony smiles. ¡°Polo!¡±


    Sebastian quickly turns away from Peony before uncovering his eyes. Thankfully, he¡¯s facing his side of the closet. He starts to browse his wardrobe, looking for any sort of color or texture that would hint at pajamas. He starts to turn towards the back wall of the closet, covering his eyes once again.


    ¡°Marco?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Polo!¡± Peony replies, her voice now behind him.


    Sebastian uncovers his eyes and looks again. He quickly comes to find that the back wall is mostly just accessories and costume jewelry. He takes a minute to look at the glimmering of fake rubies and emeralds, trying to distract himself from the dawning realization that he¡¯ll have to turn to face Peony.


    He covers his eyes again. ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to turn to where you are, is that ok?¡±


    He gets no response. Only the light creaking of floorboards behind him.


    ¡°Marco?¡± He asks.


    Peony¡¯s voice is now to his right. ¡°Polo!¡±


    Sebastian turns to his left and uncovers his eyes. Right before him are his pajamas, neatly folded atop the shelf. He picks them up and drapes them over one arm before he covers his eyes and turns around again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found them,¡± he smiles, reaching his arm out to Peony. ¡°These should work better.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Seb,¡± Peony says, taking the clothes from him.


    ¡°Now, I¡¯ll get out of here so you can change.¡±


    Sebastian turns to leave, but immediately walks face first into the door. He reels back, then fumbles around the door for the handle. Peony reaches over and opens the door for him, and Sebastian awkwardly leaves.


    Peony quickly tosses off her old top and shorts, replacing it with Sebastian¡¯s pajamas. For a moment she reels relieved, safely hidden behind baggier clothes, but then slowly realizes that the curse of the pajamas will have to befall Sebastian.


    She hangs up her kimono in the wardrobe. She wonders if she should¡¯ve complained at all. She turns around back to the discarded pajamas on the ground with contempt.


    ¡°Hey, Seb?¡± She asks, slowly picking up the set, ¡°Could you come in here for a minute?¡±


    ¡°Are you dressed?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡±


    ¡°Comfortably?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡±


    Sebastian opens the door again, now with his eyes revealed.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he says, looking down at Peony, ¡°They look nice on you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, just,¡± she starts, ¡°I don¡¯t want you to have to wear mine, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°How bad could it be?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Bad. Terrible. Awful. I should just give you back your pajamas.¡±


    ¡°Let me see them. I don¡¯t think it could be that bad.¡±


    Peony grimaces, then turns around to pick the pajamas off the floor.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want them, I¡¯ll wear them,¡± She says, handing the set to Sebastian.


    Sebastian looks at the set. The top is hardly more than a bra, and the shorts are ever so slightly longer than the palm of his hand. They¡¯re terribly fuzzy, though, and they¡¯re decorated with the face of a particular cartoon character.


    ¡°Oh, wow, they gave you Kuromi PJs?¡± Sebastian grins.


    That¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about? Peony thinks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she replies.


    ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± Sebastian says, ¡°I mean, you¡¯re right though, they are a little small, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Sebastian looks back at Peony, and Peony stares right back at him.


    Sebastian holds the top in his other hand. ¡°Say, I¡¯ve got an idea. How about we each take one part from each set and wear it? That way neither of us is exposed.¡±


    ¡°I like that,¡± Peony replies, ¡°Which one do you want?¡±


    ¡°You pick first,¡± Sebastian says.


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t need a shirt, do you?¡±


    Sebastian stares at her.


    ¡°To sleep in, Sebastian, to sleep in. I could take the top from that set and wear these pants, and then you can take this shirt and wear the shorts.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind doing that.¡±


    Sebastian hands the top of the other pajamas to her, and at once turns away from her. He puts his hand over his eyes once more, and just for good measure, opens his wings to shield her. Peony quickly tosses off the shirt, then puts on the other top.


    ¡°You can turn around now, Sebastian.¡±


    Sebastian folds in his wings and turns back, eagerly taking his hand off of his eyes. Peony stoops over to pick up the shirt, then rises again to hand him the shirt.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± She sighs, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to make such a big fuss over everything.¡±


    It takes everything in Sebastian to not look so much as a single glance away from her face. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re welcome. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave so you can change. Do you want me to make tea?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure. Hey, maybe we can alternate that between days like we used to.¡±


    ¡°We could, couldn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, I guess I¡¯d better get started on that.¡±


    Sebastian steps away from the closet door and watches Peony leave. Her hair is a waterfall against her bare back.


    By Freja, she¡¯s beautiful, Sebastian thinks, nearly frozen where he stands.


    He is still for a moment. A hundred wordless thoughts buzz round and round, and as soon as they come, they vanish. He ponders for a moment what they might want from him. He shakes his head, then starts to change.


    Meanwhile, Peony sits at the table, examining her tea bowl while she waits on the water. Patterns of flying crows round the mouth of the bowl, and drippings of violet and blue spring up from its base. It is fine. Not particularly elegant or masterful, but fine.


    Sebastian emerges from the closet, clad in the mismatched set. Peony steals a second¡¯s worth of a glance at his legs, but quickly refuses to look away from his eyes.


    ¡°Do the shorts fit alright?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Yeah, they do,¡± Sebastian replies.


    He walks over to the table and sits in the chair across from her. He looks at his own tea bowl for a minute or so while he waits for the tea to finish. It¡¯s a very sickly sort of blue, marked at the rim with the almost illegible names of herbs and spells. He looks away from his bowl and looks at Peony¡¯s. He finds it¡¯s rather fitting for her.


    When the smell of vanilla and cloves finally weaves its way through the air, Peony picks up the pot and pours some for Sebastian and her. Sebastian nods to her as thanks, and the two begin to drink.


    ¡°It¡¯s awfully nice of Mr. Sunshine to leave us a welcoming tea,¡± Peony remarks.


    ¡°He even sweetened it, didn¡¯t he?¡± Sebastian says, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve had oak syrup in this before.¡±


    ¡°He sure did,¡± she nods, ¡°He ain¡¯t much for being a warm face, but he sure knows how to treat a guest.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Then again, he¡¯s a skeleton. I¡¯m sure if he had some skin on him, he wouldn¡¯t give you the willies.¡±


    ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    The two continue their drinking in silence for a few moments.


    ¡°So I guess we¡¯ve got a show to do for tomorrow, huh?¡± Sebastian says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Peony replies. ¡°I¡¯m not too much worried about it, though.¡±


    ¡°Why? I mean, we¡¯ll be down on the stage, and there¡¯ll probably be a million eyes watching us.¡±


    ¡°Seb, there wasn¡¯t anybody in the stands aside from us. I think we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The little voice in Peony¡¯s head suddenly whispers to her. Just because there¡¯s no eyes watching doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t feel watched.


    She slaps it away. ¡°And besides, I know a couple tricks that will make it seem like no one¡¯s even there.¡±


    ¡°Tricks?¡±


    ¡°You know, like what I did back there with Mr. Sunshine, tricking his mind.¡±


    Sebastian looks on in mild terror.


    ¡°Except I¡¯ll just trick you into going a little bit blind. I won¡¯t give you any nightmares, I promise.¡±


    He lets out a nervous laugh. ¡°Good, good.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Seb,¡± she says in sarcastic disappointment, ¡°You know I¡¯d never give you a nightmare.¡±


    The two refill their bowls of tea. The smell from the pot is beginning to die away, and with it, their might to stay awake.


    ¡°Say, Peony,¡± Sebastian begins, ¡°I¡¯m gonna let you take the bed.¡±


    ¡°Really? You know we can share, right?¡±


    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a little small. And besides, I don¡¯t wanna make you uncomfortable.¡±


    Peony pauses. ¡°Uncomfortable? I¡¯d sooner worry about you rolling out of bed in the dead of night than making me uncomfortable.¡±


    And besides, she thinks, You¡¯d make an awfully good cuddler.


    ¡°Alright then, I¡¯ll roll out of bed. I don¡¯t want you dealing with that.¡±


    ¡°You are not sleeping on the floor. You and I both know you don¡¯t do well when you sleep on the floor.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll be alright. I have some blankets and pillows I can lay out for support, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Peony wants to fight him, but obliges. ¡°Just be careful, ok? And if you get you can¡¯t sleep, crawl on up and join me, ok? I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, but I think the floor will work alright for me.¡±


    They sit for a little longer and finish off their tea. When they finish, Sebastian walks over to the basket and starts pulling out blanket after blanket of the softest fabric. He gently lays them out on the floor, then sets a few pillows atop them for his makeshift bed. Peony walks over to her bed and crawls under the covers.


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re heavy,¡± she says to herself.


    ¡°They¡¯re weighted?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Do you want to sleep up here?¡±


    ¡°No, no. I just mean that you¡¯ll like them, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Peony starts to lay down. Sebastian is right, they are very nice.


    ¡°How do you think we turn off the lights?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Did you see a light switch?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Huh. That¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°Maybe if we close our eyes, they¡¯ll go out?¡±


    All of a sudden, the lights go out on their own.


    ¡°Magic words!¡± Sebastian says.


    Peony grins to herself. ¡°Even better!¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re good to sleep now?¡±


    ¡°I am if you are.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Goodnight!¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Seb.¡±


    And with that, the two close their eyes and slowly drift off to sleep.


    ¡­


    Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. I can¡¯t quite say why. I think maybe it¡¯s from spending a few too many late nights in the boat looking for souls. That, or from how the roof leaks when it rains back at the schoolhouse. Either way, the cicadas are nice. If there¡¯s anything good to wake up to in the middle of the night, it¡¯s cicadas.


    I don¡¯t suppose it would hurt anything to go over and see what¡¯s out the window. As long as I¡¯m quiet on the floor, I¡¯ll be ok. Seb doesn¡¯t wake easily, either. Alright, here we go. Up and out, silent as a church mouse. That¡¯s good, that¡¯s good.


    The neurons are dim. I suppose there¡¯s a few hundred, maybe thousand little cicadas out there singing. You¡¯d think it¡¯s summer out here. It¡¯s not hot enough to be summer, though. I wish it was. Could you imagine summer in a place like this? Of course, you¡¯ve got all the circus stuff, but I bet Mr. Sunshine¡¯s got a few water guns lying around somewhere. Or balloons. Maybe I¡¯ll ask Ikimono about it tomorrow.


    I hope Sebastian¡¯s sleeping alright. Maybe I ought to go and check on him. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s anything else to do. Just gotta step around the bed here, yep. God, I hope the floors don¡¯t creak like they do back at the schoolhouse. I swear, you can¡¯t even tip-toe without making it sound like the walls are caving in.


    He¡¯s still asleep. Huh, he usually doesn¡¯t sleep like this on the floor. I mean, yeah, he sleeps, but not so comfortably. I figured he¡¯d hear me breathing and wake up, but man, he¡¯s out. Good for him, though. At least someone¡¯s asleep here.


    You know, he¡¯s awfully cute when he¡¯s asleep. I know I shouldn¡¯t say that, it¡¯s weird, but like, god. He¡¯s like a lump of cotton with wings. I wanna get down there and lay next to him, but that¡¯d be an awkward conversation to have tomorrow dusk. That, and my back would hurt. Lucky guy, not having back pain.


    I wonder if he knows just how much I think about him. I mean, I know we have the star and the tea and the rhyme and all, but I wonder if he knows about the little spot in the back of my head for him. I¡¯m a show-not-tell person, though. I bet he wouldn¡¯t even guess I like him like that.


    Oh, what am I kidding? He probably thinks of me like a sister or something. If I told him I liked him, he¡¯d laugh at me. Or he¡¯d tell me no. Or he¡¯d stay as far away from me as possible. I don¡¯t know which one is worse. Maybe if I gave him a bushel¡¯s worth of lilies and roses he¡¯d think it a friendly gesture and I wouldn¡¯t feel so bad.


    Then again, would I even be satisfied if he was just a friend?


    ¡­


    I¡¯d kiss the hands of the angel that sculpted you if I couldn¡¯t kiss you. You know that, don¡¯t you?


    ¡­


    No, you don¡¯t, don¡¯t you?


    ¡­


    Ah, well, at least we¡¯re together now, and I won¡¯t have to leave on Sunday to go out reaping again. Look, Seb, we¡¯ve gotten just what we¡¯ve wanted. We have our own little home to ourselves, we have a closet with a few things, we have tea, we have our friends right by us, and we actually have a bed. And we¡¯re together, right? If there¡¯s nothing else to say about this, we¡¯re together. And we¡¯re gonna perform together tomorrow. I mean, I know you¡¯re scared, but we¡¯ll do it together. You were scared when we fought that leviathan once, but we did it, didn¡¯t we?


    Well, you do have that scar on your stomach for a reason. Looking back, I don¡¯t blame you for being scared. Do you think of me when you see it?


    You know what? Maybe it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll just shrug it off somehow.


    Should I kiss him on the hand? Since he sat and listened to me ramble?


    ¡­


    I¡¯ll just wake him up. And I¡¯ve got to get back to sleep, anyway. Goodnight, sweet prince.


    I¡¯m glad the floorboards don¡¯t creak when I stand up. Maybe some night I¡¯ll make tea at an unreasonable hour just to say I¡¯ve done that.


    Hey, when did the cicadas stop?


    Oh god, what the hell is that thing?


    ...


    Centipedes of hundred legs creep through the midway


    Calling on roly-polies to come on out and play


    Fireflies with lanterns gold come out to light the path


    Cicadas trail behind them with an eerie song and dance


    Twixt moths and maggots, neither shares the same tune


    But share a look forlorn at the dragonfly¡¯s near doom

 Doors in Your Head and Other Non-Euclidian Games You Can Play With Your Friends

    The light of dusk beckons the friends from their boxcars to the cul-de-sac one by one. First Juniper, the most crepuscular of the group, then Adderall and Fuego, who all quickly find a swing set embedded in the branches of neurons. As the three begin to warm up their legs for a day of walking, Peony and Sebastian emerge from their dwelling, and not long after, DJ. The six stand and talk in the cool morning air, admiring the patterns of dew atop the bone-plank platforms. They talk for a little while, too, though mostly just about their acts. Eventually, though, they all can bear the anticipation no longer.


    ¡°So,¡± DJ begins, admiring the core of a moonberry, ¡°Is Ikimono out yet?¡±


    The others look around the cul-de-sac for Ikimono. They don¡¯t have to look very long to find their answer.


    ¡°You want me to go wake them up?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s early?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°Eh, not really,¡± DJ replies, ¡°I mean, maybe it¡¯s because we¡¯re mercs and all that, but the dew settling usually happens pretty late in the crepuscule.¡±


    Adderall nods. ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re still asleep,¡± Sebastian says, looking off into the direction of the clearing. ¡°I think it might be rude to wake them up.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± DJ replies. ¡°Then again, how many times have you stepped on my tail and woken me up?¡±


    Sebastian smiles awkwardly. ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡±


    Juniper knows exactly what DJ wants. ¡°If you¡¯re waiting for an order, I say go ahead.¡±


    DJ nods and turns away from the group. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    They walk across the platform and cross over the landing of the stairs. The archway into the other area is a little short for them, but they can duck underneath it. As they cross through the threshold, the bone beneath them slowly turns into grassy moss, wet with denser dew. Their nose is stung with spores from nearby stalks of mold, growing like trees into the upper clearing.


    Clearing?


    DJ looks up and finds where the neurons finally stop, breaking into the open sky. Constellations round the tips like halos of jewels, and from where they stand, the tips of the nerves caress them with greedy fingers. When they turn their gaze downwards, the neurons fade from bright green to blue. Perhaps, DJ thinks, they run green with stardust and blue with thought. Either way, they suspend gently swinging tendrils of fungi and moss from their branches.


    They look back around at the ground. There¡¯s a porch swing hanging from an old, overgrown set in a back corner. Odd wooden structures lay strewn about the clearing, though not in such a way that makes the space feel smaller. Little gardens of colorful mushrooms grow beneath what was perhaps an old carnival booth. And on the other side of the clearing is a little old boxcar, painted a faded copper red. There¡¯s an odd chill in the air, and DJ finds as they walk across the mossy platform that the static buzz of the neurons loosen their grasp around them. In fact, DJ didn¡¯t even notice there was such a hum until they walked in. Perhaps when Ikimono spoke of a safe haven, this is what they meant.


    They walk up to the boxcar and knock on the door with a knuckle. The curtains behind the window are velvet black.


    After a moment¡¯s waiting, the door slowly creaks open. Ikimono pokes their head out of the doorway.


    DJ smiles. ¡°¡®Puscule, Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono opens the door. ¡°Crepuscule. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Just checking on you, that¡¯s all. We¡¯re all hanging out by the stairs. We figured we¡¯d wait for you before we left.¡±


    Ikimono lingers wearily on their words. ¡°Go where?¡±


    ¡°Down to see Sunshine. We figure that we¡¯d better talk to him and figure out what we need to do before the show starts, y¡¯know? Just so we¡¯re not scrambling at the last minute.¡±


    The twanging pain of disbelief rocks Ikimono a second time. They did agree to be in the show, did they? They look up at DJ in pity.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. That would be smart, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°We think so.¡±


    Ikimono pauses. ¡°Why ¡®we¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Like, the others and I. We think it would be smart.¡±


    Something about DJ¡¯s voice seems insincere, as though they are dry reading a script.


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll come with you then.¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°Wonderful.¡±


    Ikimono turns back into the house. ¡°I just need to grab my puppets first.¡±


    ¡°Puppets?¡± DJ asks.


    A deep sting rattles at the bottom of Ikimono¡¯s lungs. ¡°Yeah, puppets.¡±


    ¡°Could you maybe grab one extra for Peony?¡± DJ asks, now sounding less like a dry read and more like a genuine favor, ¡°I know she wants something to possess, and I think maybe it¡¯d be a little more interesting if it was something with arms and legs and not, like, a teapot or something.¡±


    Ikimono turns back to face DJ. They look back into their dwelling for a second, then open the door.


    ¡°Can you help me pick one out for her?¡± Ikimono asks, ¡°I¡¯ve heard that things work better when they¡¯re made for their keeper. And you know Peony better than I do.¡±


    DJ nods. Ikimono slips through the door, and DJ follows close behind them.


    ¡°And you can sit down if you want,¡± Ikimono mutters, ¡°Sorry my dwelling¡¯s a mess.¡±


    DJ looks around at their home. What do you mean, messy? They think to themselves.


    DJ sits down on an old red velvet cushion by the sprucewood table. The dark wood planks below them creak ever so slightly under their weight. Dark curtains drape over cracked, frosted windows, not allowing so much as a sliver of light to pass through. The only light in the room, aside from DJ, are eternal flames burning on old candles in broken candelabras. DJ can hardly see them, but diagrams of dolls, music boxes, and mushrooms hang on the walls alongside weavings of berry vines, which hold bottles of all different shapes, sizes, and fillings atop shelves. The faint smell of formaldehyde and rose bites at DJ¡¯s nose. The chill of the air doesn¡¯t help either.


    ¡°I think a boxcar¡¯s too small for you,¡± DJ laughs.


    Ikimono turns from the old chest. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You think like an old castle,¡± they reply, ¡°With everything around here, if you would¡¯ve tied me up blindfolded and unbounded me in here, I would¡¯ve thought you a noble.¡±


    Ikimono turns back to the chest and unlatches it. With an imposing groan, Ikimono flings it open. The burning button eyes of the many puppets bore into their chest.


    ¡°What do you have in there, Ikimono?¡± DJ asks.


    ¡°Just about anything,¡± they reply, ¡°I have animals, I have bugs, I might have a sea monster in here if I look hard enough. People too, sometimes.¡±


    ¡°People?¡±


    Ikimono pauses.


    ¡°Yeah. Sometimes I find an angel, a king, a jester, or a prince here. You know, fantasy stuff.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a little comforting, I guess,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°For a second there, I thought you meant puppets of actual people here.¡±


    Ikimono looks away from DJ. They aren¡¯t wrong.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯d be better if you came over here,¡± Ikimono says.


    DJ rises. ¡°Of course.¡±


    As they wander over to Ikimono, the boxcar creaks and groans. Ikimono knows it''s nothing to worry about, and somehow DJ knows too. There¡¯s something about DJ that Ikimono can¡¯t quite put their finger on, something just too odd to name. Like DJ knows something that even they don¡¯t. The wonder rolls around their brain like marbles in a fishbowl.


    DJ steps on something. Their obsidian talon pierces into the once-fluffy cloth of a well-loved toy, its stuffing spilling out like blood under their feet. DJ instinctively steps back. When they look down at the object, they find shards of china mixed amid the stuffing. Ikimono rushes over when they hear the crunch.


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± DJ says, kneeling down with Ikimono, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t see him there.¡±


    Ikimono brushes the fragments of bone china into his rotten hands. ¡°It¡¯s ok, you didn¡¯t mean to.¡±


    Ikimono picks up the doll from the ground. They lay it in the crook of their arm and sigh. From the red of the fur to the sleepy button eyes of the sewn creature, DJ knows it''s a sheep.


    ¡°A sheep?¡± They ask.


    Ikimono nods. ¡°I usually keep him set up at the table to keep me company. I don¡¯t know how he got here.¡±


    ¡°Does he have a name?¡±


    Ikimono pauses. ¡°Mortimer.¡±


    ¡°Mortimer,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°Dead sea, hm?¡±


    Ikimono looks at DJ.


    ¡°That¡¯s just what it means,¡± DJ says, trying their hardest not to sound rude, ¡°It¡¯s French, you see, mort means death, and mer is sea. Mer is where we get the word mermaid, too. Funny thing, though, I think mort and mer are both feminine, and Mortimer is a boy¡¯s name. You have to wonder, what about them together makes them masculine?¡±


    Ikimono looks more concerned with the sheep than with its name. DJ wonders if they ought to leave.


    ¡°Say, I know Peony knows some mending spells,¡± they continue, hoping they aren¡¯t annoying Ikimono, ¡°Maybe we should take him to her?¡±


    Ikimono nods. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°And maybe she can use him for the performance, too,¡± DJ suggests, ¡°Two birds with one stone?¡±


    Ikimono shrugs. ¡°As long as I get it back.¡±


    DJ nods, then rises to their feet with Ikimono. The two silently walk over to the door, exit, then walk back across the clearing. Something tugging in Ikimono¡¯s head thinks that what DJ did couldn¡¯t have been an accident. If not by their intentions, then by someone else¡¯s.


    The two finally come back to the cul-de-sac, and at once Ikimono falls back behind DJ. Peony and Sebastian notice their retreat.


    ¡°I got Ikimono,¡± DJ says, ¡°Wherever they went. Say, Peony, you still remember how to fix things, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she replies, ¡°What needs fixing?¡±


    ¡°Just Ikimono¡¯s doll here,¡± DJ replies, standing to the side.


    Ikimono stands frozen for a moment. They look at DJ, then at Peony, then at DJ again.


    Peony looks at Ikimono. ¡°Bring it here.¡±


    Hesitantly, Ikimono steps forward and hands the sheep and the shards of china to Peony. She examines each piece with care, then begins stuffing the old badding back into the doll.


    ¡°Just shattered his leg?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ikimono mutters, ¡°And a puncture.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s no big deal. Here, it¡¯ll only take a minute.¡±


    Peony closes her hands around the sheep and the shards and holds them close to her chest. Oozing purple light begins to drip from her fingertips. A puff of sulfur rises from the backs of her hands, and soon the ooze grows more watery. Then, when the light fades away, she opens her hands to reveal the mended doll.


    ¡°See?¡± She smiles, handing the sheep to Ikimono, ¡°I told you it wouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    Ikimono holds the sheep in their hands. A scar of black etches over where DJ punctured the sheep. The leg of china is repaired, albeit with the same black mending the cracks. It¡¯s repaired, though, and that¡¯s good enough for Ikimono.


    ¡°Thank you, Peony,¡± they smile.


    ¡°Also,¡± DJ says, ¡°We thought maybe you could use the sheep for your performance. Y¡¯know, as something to animate?¡±


    ¡°Are you alright with me doing that, Ikimono?¡± Peony asks.


    Ikimono nods.


    ¡°Alright, then. You can hold onto it until I need it though, ok?¡±


    Ikimono lets go of a breath. ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°So when do we need to be down at the big top?¡± Juniper asks to the open air.


    ¡°Probably past midnight,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°We have to talk to Sunshine first, though. Just to get us ready and all. Costumes and props and such.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the ringmaster and stage manager?¡± Adderall asks,


    ¡°Poor guy,¡± Fuego replies.


    Ikimono shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It just works with him.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we¡¯d better get going just to be safe,¡± DJ says, ¡°Don¡¯t want to be late in a place like this.¡±


    Ikimono nods. Isn¡¯t that the truth?


    The others begin to climb down from their seats and usher their way to the stairs. Ikimono hangs back, only to realize that they¡¯ll have to lead again. They don¡¯t want to wait on everyone to get down, though. That¡¯ll take too long. That, and they didn¡¯t quite feel like uttering a thousand ¡°excuse me¡±s on the way down.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    They look down the stairs and notice nobody¡¯s using the handrail. They hop up onto the banister, lean back, and slide down. Not fast enough to take anyone out, but just fast enough to catch everyone¡¯s guard. When they finally land at the base of the neuron, they turn around to face the others and bow. DJ claps, then Sebastian, and soon Ikimono has their own little round of applause.


    Once the others find their way back to the ground, Ikimono leads them back down the now familiar back alleyways. Nobody bothers much to look around as they did the night before, except perhaps to point out a new growth of mossy flowers on the path. For now, they quietly follow close behind Ikimono, slowly falling silent as the road ahead winds like a lazy river.


    Eventually, though, the neurons overhead come closer and closer to the path. They bow to make a crude archway, slowly constricting around the path on its sides but daring not to brush their heads. As the path grows ever tighter, their group slowly files into a neat line. By then, the light of the growth around them nearly burns their skin as the volume of thought around them grows into a frenzy. If they let their minds wander outside of the comfort of their sight, slow echoes of voice would tremble at the edge of their earshot.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pay attention to the voices,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°They lie most of the time anyway.¡±


    It¡¯s a comfort to the others. Then again, it¡¯s easier to stare death in the face when you believe yourself to be blind.


    Slowly, the lights give way to darkness. In the shadows of a small clearing is a knobless door hinged in a frame of old sticks. From the haphazard arrangement of the discarded tree limbs, moss and vines dangle to the ground, illuminating a trail between the narrow hall and the entrance. In the ground around the trail, crickets chirp in a discordant cacophony.


    ¡°Be careful where you step,¡± Ikimono says, ¡°There¡¯s puddles everywhere out here.¡±


    ¡°Puddles of what?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°Water, maybe,¡± Ikimono replies.


    Ikimono knows better. The sweet sulfur in the air around them is the doings of inky, oozing fear. They hope nobody steps in it.


    With a grand first step, Ikimono leads them across the path of dim light to the door across the clearing. They knock on the door with an odd sort of rhythm, then quickly dart away. A creature of frightening black soon lurches up to cover the holes of window panes on the door. With a dripping squelch, the pores of its skin open to reveal a hundred thousand pin-pricked eyes. A hand seeps through the crack between the door and the frame, forming the outline of a doorknob. Atop the back of the hand is a mouth.


    The door speaks in an uproar of a thousand different voices. ¡°If you wish to enter, you must answer a question.¡±


    Ikimono takes a step forward. ¡°I know.¡±


    The door beckons Ikimono closer. ¡°What has one eye and cannot see?¡±


    ¡°A needle,¡± Ikimono replies.


    The mouth on the doorknob closes, and soon the brackish outline melts into brass. The porous eyes close one by one, and soon the flesh becomes old lace curtains. A small flicker of candlelight illuminates the window, and soon the happy thumping of footsteps grows closer to the door. The handle jiggles, and at once the others jump back in defensive position. Ikimono looks unfazed.


    The door swings open. A little doll stands at the entrance. Not a living doll like Juniper, but a real, animated doll.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome!¡± It cheers, its squeaky voice ringing out in the clearing, ¡°What a wonderful evening it is, yes?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here to see Sunshine, Coleo,¡± Ikimono replies.


    ¡°Sunshine! Yes, he¡¯s here. Follow me.¡±


    Ikimono turns back to the others, who are slowly coming out of their defenses. He follows the doll into the door, and soon the others follow behind. Even though there is nothing on the other side of the door from where they stand, they still enter. When the door finally shuts behind them, the lights begin to flicker to life.


    The vast space around them is only dwarfed by the limits their sight allows. Colors of all hues and vibrancies festoon the walls and ceilings alongside toys, tools, and trinkets. Massive bookshelves line the walls with volumes of every size and thickness. Little dolls scurry mischievously about the organized clutter, giggling at the sight of the visitors. Beneath them, it¡¯s hard to tell where the confetti and glitter ends and the wooden floor begins.


    Peony finds little statues of fair folk and goddesses on some of the bookshelves. She wonders if Sunshine has a patron of his own.


    ¡°Let me go get him for you,¡± the little doll Coleo says, ¡°Make yourselves at home!¡±


    At once, the visages of chairs, couches, bean bags, and stools make themselves visible, and a small clearing for a coffee table emerges. The seven of them anxiously sit down, but when Ikimono starts to recline in their bean bag, the others ease into small leisure. A few of the other dolls race to the clearing with teacups, the china of the wares clinking against the porcelain of the dolls hands. Others rush out with sugar, honey, lemons, and cream, and at last four of the most vibrantly colored dolls emerge with a pot of tea. Each little doll bows welcome to their visitors, then rushes back into clutter.


    ¡°Neat little things,¡± Fuego says, reaching for a cup.


    ¡°I like their masks,¡± Juniper adds, ¡°Are they all dressed like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ikimono replies, ¡°I always liked their color.¡±


    DJ plays with a tassel on the tablecloth. ¡°This tea isn¡¯t poisoned or anything, right?¡±


    Fuego pours some of the rich tea into ves cup. ¡°Let me check.¡±


    Ve holds his hand over the teacup, casting a puff of green smoke over its lip. The smoke flows across the top of the water, then disappears.


    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± Fuego says.


    The teapot soon makes its rounds among the table, and so too do all the fixings. Fuego reclines in a little old armchair carved from the remnants of a tree stump. Adderall is perched right up next to ven in a bubblegum pink bean bag chair. Beside them is Juniper, sitting atop an old writing desk adorned with a velvet cloth. Peony and Sebastian find themselves on an old loveseat, just large enough to sit the two of them. DJ is draped dramatically over a red fainting couch, and Ikimono is content to just sit on a cushion on the floor.


    Soon enough, Coleo returns with Sunshine in tow. The little doll bows to them, then to Sunshine, then scurries off to hide under the table. Sunshine bows to them, then takes a seat in a grand armchair that seems to have materialized right behind him. He leans his cane against the arm, and the swirling glimmer of its orb settles to the bottom.


    ¡°Wonderful crepuscule, my colorful, newfound friends,¡± Sunshine begins, ¡°And just what brings you tonight to my circus¡¯ end?¡±


    ¡°We wanted to discuss our acts a little more,¡± Sebastian begins, ¡°Procedures for the show, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a good sort of thing to worry about. Well, listen up here and I¡¯ll leave you without doubt.¡±


    They all lean in to listen. Sunshine enjoys the attention.


    ¡°Past midnight, no later than two, come along back behind the oddity zoo. Ikimono will show you, it¡¯ll give you the clue. There¡¯s a doorway back there for the performers to meet, it¡¯ll be on the right when you walk down the street. In the back there¡¯s props of all sizes and sorts, so you shouldn¡¯t need more than what¡¯s down there, of course. If you do need something, don¡¯t fear asking me. Because I¡¯m here for all of you, you see? Wait in the back, and I¡¯ll call you on. Then just go to the back when you¡¯re done. You can talk back there, just try to be quiet. It¡¯d be weird for the audience to hear your voices, wouldn¡¯t it? When the show¡¯s said and done, go out from where you came. Every performance, it¡¯s always the same. Except sometimes, when we do more spectacular shows. But I¡¯ll tell you ahead of time so that you know. You might need to be early, you might need to be late, sometimes you might even need to be on half-and-half wait. But you¡¯ll know when it comes, so don¡¯t you dare fret. We just have the normal shows to worry of yet.¡±


    ¡°So we enter in the back of the tent?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Yes, yes. That¡¯s what¡¯s best.¡±


    ¡°And how do we know when you¡¯ve called us?¡± Juniper asks.


    ¡°If I want to answer, I need a volunteer. Could I pick on somebody here?¡±


    DJ raises their hand.


    ¡°Perfect, DJ, just what I need. You dance with fire, if I remember correctly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be right,¡± DJ says.


    The candles and lights in the room begin to flicker as swirls of shimmering green spiral around Sunshine¡¯s chair. He grabs his cane, and the room descends into darkness. The paintings on his cheeks begin to glow with the orb on his cane. He raises the orb to his mouth as though it were a microphone and begins to speak.


    ¡°Now prepare your eyes for a dazzling sight, one of magical, mystical fright. From islands afar to the circus in the stars, bringing Prometheus¡¯ gift to our colorful bazaar. Dancing to the stage is our hellfire, DJ. Watch if you will, or will you cower away?¡±


    The lights in the room reignite as the green dies away. Sunshine returns to his seat, leaning his cane against the chair again. DJ begins to clap.


    ¡°That¡¯s awesome, Sunshine,¡± DJ smiles, ¡°So you¡¯ll say our names and our acts?¡±


    Sunshine nods. ¡°I certainly will, for both your and my thrill.¡±


    ¡°So will you say Ikimono¡¯s name when you call their act?¡± Peony asks.


    Ikimono hunches over and looks at the ground.


    Why would she say that? They wonder.


    Sunshine pauses for a moment in dutiful consideration. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t know it had a name until last night. I suppose if it suits it, I simply might.¡±


    ¡°Well, try,¡± Peony says.


    She sips at her tea. Sunshine looks at her in contempt.


    ¡°Say, I know one of the big things about circuses are the costumes,¡± Adderall says, ¡°Do we get costumes?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, yes, I almost forgot!¡± Sunshine beams, ¡°If you hadn¡¯t reminded me, you probably would not.¡±


    The others look at each other and grin mischievously.


    ¡°Well, are you going to sit there and giggle?¡± Sunshine asks, ¡°Come on down with me, and I¡¯ll help you a little!¡±


    Sunshine rises from his seat, and the others follow suit. He leads them away from the table through a tight corridor of perpetual motion toys on escher shelves into a long, almost terrifying hallway. The confetti and glitter of the first hallway has died away, and now the floors here are a rather appealing rainbow checkerboard. The walls are a crispy, iridescent blue, and the ceilings are a sort of black carpet. Every door is uniform against the wall, and each door is painted a different shade of what one wouldn¡¯t be mistaken in thinking is the same color. What color is perhaps a mystery, perhaps something that might drive the mind mad if it tried imagining it. Either way, though, the hallway is uncomfortably wide on either side.


    ¡°Forgive me if I pick the wrong door at first,¡± Sunshine laughs, ¡°My navigation along these halls is probably the worst.¡±


    He dashes down the hall, investigating every door he comes across. At last, he finds one he is satisfied with.


    ¡°Come come, good children, and come find your dress,¡± he beckons, ¡°You will find this closet simply the best!¡±


    They all rush to the door, and even Ikimono tags along at their sides. Sunshine presents the door in grand splendor, then graciously opens it.


    Inside the door is something which is absolutely not a closet full of clothes: a dark, blue-tiled room with a single drain in the center.


    Sunshine laughs nervously as the others look into the room, then at him, puzzled at the scene inside.


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ve forgotten the layout of this hall,¡± He grins, his teeth ever slightly too sharp, ¡°But I promise I haven¡¯t forgotten it all.¡±


    He dashes away again to a door on the same side of the hall a few meters down. The others follow him, still enthusiastically, but now with a slight sort of hesitation.


    ¡°Now here¡¯s the door to the closet we seek. Care to come down and take a peek?¡±


    He opens the door, and again, what lies behind it isn¡¯t a door. A single table lies in the center of a dark, wood-paneled room. Jars of chemicals and specimens line the shelves on the wall, interspersed with the rusted shine of surgical tools. A single, sterile Edison bulb illuminates over the table, humming ever so quietly. The faint stench of something long past rotten spills out into the hallway. The others¡¯ eyes are drawn to the chained up meathooks on the wall, but Sebastian is more worried about the rusty blood dripping from the off-white table.


    Ikimono recoils in shock. They shoot a look up at Sunshine.


    Their voice is a stage-whisper. ¡°In front of them?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Ikimono, you come here all the time,¡± Sunshine mocks, ¡°There¡¯s no harm in showing them what plagues you in your mind.¡±


    The aching stitches on Ikimono¡¯s chest beg to differ. Ikimono themselves would rather not.


    Sunshine turns to the others. ¡°My my, I¡¯m having a rough time of it today. But with all the neurons around here, my mind is sure astray.¡±


    He mutters something to himself before walking over to the other side of the hall. He hesitantly walks to each door, creaking open and peering into every single one. The others do not follow him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going in here,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°Something about this room seems off to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go too,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°In case something jumps out at you or you need to not be poisoned.¡±


    ¡°If something jumps, you¡¯ll need muscle,¡± DJ replies, ¡°I¡¯ll come too. Juniper, Peony?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch at the door,¡± Peony says, ¡°I¡¯ll block his view if he turns around.¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± Juniper adds, ¡°Can¡¯t go wrong with a distraction.¡±


    "I''m good at distractions," Adderall adds.


    ¡°Right then,¡± DJ nods. ¡°And you, Ikimono?¡±


    Ikimono looks into the room and then back up at DJ. Do they tell?


    ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± Ikimono sighs, ¡°There might be some things in there we can use to make or fix things.¡±


    DJ nods again, and with Sebastian¡¯s lead, the four of them duck into the room.


    Sebastian¡¯s wings begin to glow as he flaps them in quick little bursts. The eye sigils on the back of his wings begin to shift and move, and every now and again he looks around frantically. Fuego holds a little orb of purple ooze between his hands, ready to pull off a piece to use as an antidote. The fire around DJ¡¯s eye and tail burns brighter than usual. Ikimono knows better than to stand at attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna check the skulls here,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Make sure there¡¯s no necrotic stuff going on.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll go with ven,¡± DJ adds, ¡°Think you and Ikimono can handle things?¡±


    ¡°We should,¡± Sebastian nods.


    Ikimono doesn¡¯t say anything. They¡¯re too engrossed in the sight of the vivisection table. Of course Sunshine didn¡¯t bother cleaning it, did he even think something they touched was worth the time? They wonder if blood oxidizes like rust from the iron. It does, probably, if the roughness of the table on their back was any indication. The scraping feeling crawls across them like a legion of long-legged spiders, the memory burning with the same fierce glow as DJ¡¯s light behind them. They clutch at their stomach, and the stitchings across their chest begin to ache once more. They want to throw up everything, their guts, the stuffing, the herbs left for insincere pleasantries, but they know from the jars full of organs there¡¯s nothing for them to throw it up with.


    They look away from the table to the ground. There¡¯s a caterpillar crawling into a crevice in the floorboard.


    Sebastian turns away from Ikimono with the same sort of feeling of disgust. Not at Ikimono, of course. You can¡¯t just catch a whiff of someone¡¯s thoughts and be mad at them for panicking. He looks up at the jars full of organs and wishes they were gone.


    He can¡¯t help turning back to Ikimono. ¡°How often?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Ikimono mutters.


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    Sebastian looks back at the table.


    ¡°Anastesia?¡±


    Ikimono shrugs.


    Sebastian looks back at the shelf. There¡¯s a rusty tin of ether sitting right next to a pot of wilting flowers. Hesitantly, he reaches over to the jar. When he picks it up, the jar is full. He scowls, then sits it back down.


    His voice is a whisper now. ¡°What¡¯s left?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Ikimono replies. ¡°Enough for him, at least.¡±


    Ikimono feels their heart slowly thumping in their chest. They never quite understood why Sunshine would ever bother leaving it behind. When he first took their liver, he had a hundred thousand excuses for it. It was too rotten, he had said, You won¡¯t need it here anyway. He filled the space with badding and herbs. Chamomile, they thought, chamomile and honeysuckle. They liked the smell at first, but the slow ache of something missing would creep into their thoughts in the darker night, eating away at them until at last they asked for it back.


    Sunshine laughed at them, they remember. He laughed.


    Soon they started losing others, one by one, little by little. He lost his stomach when he stopped eating. He lost his kidneys when he stopped having the energy to do anything other than make tea and listen to music. Sometimes he¡¯d even take some of his skin because the mold would be taking hold of it. He bothered to replace his skin, though. The organs seemed a more impersonal matter to him.


    Ikimono looks around the room. He wishes the smell of rotten flowers would come back for him, even for a fleeting moment.


    ¡°Do you have a favorite flower, Ikimono?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Lavender is nice,¡± Ikimono says, sniffling a little, ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt you on the inside.¡±


    Little prickles of blood begin to well up in their tacked-open eyes. They remember when they could actually cry.


    Sebastian gently puts one arm around Ikimono¡¯s shoulder. He stands with his wings to the door, shielding them from whatever prying eye might try and find them.


    ¡°Do you mind me doing this?¡± Sebastian asks.


    Ikimono shakes their head.


    Sebastian puts his other arm around Ikimono. They hold out one hand, and when he starts to sing, little colors dance about his quiet voice.


    Sing low for quiet tides and sea foam on the bay


    For little crabs and sea stars in the dying day


    Sing low for sargasm and the fishes caught within


    Mourn sea horses, scallops, and their kin


    His breath smells like sea breeze against their cheek. Reluctantly, Ikimono hugs back.


    The gulls and pipers soon will lay their claim


    But I have stopped to wonder yet again


    What kelp-forest tree hath fell below?


    And when the tide comes, where will we go?


    Ikimono stops bleeding and looks up at Sebastian, who finds himself cradling their head in their other hand. Ikimono steps away, and Sebastian doesn¡¯t stop them.


    ¡°Are you going to be ok?¡± He asks.


    Ikimono nods.


    ¡°Good, then. Let¡¯s leave.¡±


    When Sebastian turns around, he¡¯s met with DJ and Fuego standing at the door.


    ¡°What did you find?¡± Sebastian asks, almost out of obligation.


    ¡°No necromancy here,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°The stuff in the bottles is embalming stuff, and there¡¯s some herbs and flowers in the jars. Nothing malicious.¡±


    Sebastian knows better than to agree, but also that it¡¯s better to not disagree. ¡°Good, good. Sunshine didn¡¯t notice us, did he?¡±


    Ve cringes. ¡°Nope. He¡¯s been running around out there like a looney trying to find the right door.¡±


    ¡°He does that,¡± Ikimono says, their voice still shaking, ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡±


    Suddenly, a sharp voice cuts through the room. ¡°I found it! Come quick!¡±


    ¡°That must be Sunshine,¡± Fuego says.


    ¡°Great, then,¡± Sebastian replies, ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

 The Road to Being so Far in the Closet You Find Narnia is Paved with Procrastination

    Sunshine beckons them to a blue door on the opposite side of the hall, a long ways away from the room with the table. As they meander their way through the hallway, they hear the door from earlier loudly snap shut. Sebastian turns back for a split second, but Ikimono tugs on his hand in a panic before he can get a look back the hallway. Ikimono hopes Sebastian doesn¡¯t think anything less of them for holding his hand like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when one has lost their voice.


    When they finally reach the end of the hallway, Sunshine springs to life in all the splendor and glory of before. He picks up his cane, swishing the glimmering orb around as though he were about to cast a spell. He taps on its top, and at once the shimmering lights begin to swirl around his feet again. The others stop in their tracks, and once he is certain he has their rapt attention, he begins his call.


    ¡°In this room lies all that you need,¡± He grins, ¡°And everything that your eyes can see. Take what you may, for all has a purpose, and tend to them soundly for better or worse.¡±


    With one of his lower hands, he opens the door. The lights suddenly snap out of existence as the smell of moth balls, perfume, and cigar smoke spill out of the open door. He gestures inside, but for a moment the others hesitate.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you lot?¡± He growls, ¡°Are you going in there or not?¡±


    ¡°One second, Sunshine,¡± Adderall says, ¡°The smell¡¯s a little much.¡±


    Sunshine rolls his eyes. ¡°I will count to ten, and when I end, I don¡¯t want to see you all out here again.¡±


    He closes his eyes and begins his count. At once, the others bolt into the room. When at last the seven pairs of steps have hit the velvet carpet, he closes the door just enough to seem like they¡¯re locked in. When their running dies away, he slips in as silently as a serpent.


    The smell isn¡¯t so bad once they¡¯re in the room. Would that thought keep them from getting headaches? Maybe, maybe not. But that isn¡¯t a problem now. Now, they find themselves stuck in a maze of old wardrobes, racks, and bureaus. Clothes of all sizes and hues drape over the disjointed organization, and jewelry slips out of open drawers and broken boxes. If they take a good look at the many structures situated in the vast room, they may notice that something may have once been painted with opulent colors or intricate patterns. Time, like many things, has not been kind to any of the things in the room.


    To even call it a room would be an understatement. It is perhaps more akin to the ground floor of a department store left abandoned in the corner of a mall. The red velvet carpet below them is stained from decades past, faded from the glamorous red that it perhaps used to be. The walls, which aren¡¯t quite visible from where they stand in the center of the chaos, bear little patterns of hearts and vertical stripes of faded pink. The ceilings above are mirrors, reflecting everything within the room aside from Ikimono. From somewhere unseen, they all heard some sort of music, but all the fabric of the clothes makes it hard to make out any discernible melody or lyrics. The sound isn¡¯t the only thing the clothes insulate; the heat of the room is like that of a jungle. Combined with the choking stench of has-been glamor, it¡¯s practically unbearable to be locked in.


    The team isn¡¯t foolish enough to be off-put by it, though. There is a certain charm about the place, however uncanny it may be. They start off in a pack at first, carefully examining the clothes with skepticism of their quality. When someone finds something unique, they quickly huddle around the garment until at last they lose their interest and move on to something better. Slowly, they break off into smaller groups, only showing their finds to a friend or two. Then, at last, they disperse by themselves, finally looking deeper into the wardrobes and holdings to search for their costumes.


    DJ is the first to break off by themselves. They¡¯ve never been one to shy away from the chance of being alone in a foreign place, and they aren¡¯t going to start now. When the group comes to the intersection with the marble table and vase of dead daisies, they take the path to the left where all the more flowy things are. Having loose skirts or sleeves in a fire routine seems like a rather dangerous idea, but to DJ, it just means a better chance to show off. After all, what did they have to fear? Getting burned?


    DJ laughs to themselves. What will they pick this time around?


    They peruse the aisles and aisles of dresses, thumbing through each tattered gown and finely embroidered skirt. They find themselves unsatisfied with almost every single one. Been there, done that. Not that what they wore would matter in the end, but it would be nice in the moment. Just something to ease the worry. Just something to distract from the body.


    As they thumb through the clothes, they remember a story of a woman who jumped from the tallest building in the world to her death. But they never said about her death, how such a woman could think to end her own life. They gushed about her beauty, how daintily her eyes were closed, how her figure lay neatly atop the crushed car she had landed upon as though she was neatly laid in a bed of wildflowers. How beautiful she was, even though she was gone.


    DJ wishes they had that luxury. Once, just once, do they wish they could die without being mourned as a hero. How nice that would be for them all. Just a pretty face in the wreckage. They had seen before the dragon maidens, how they mourned their beauty, so it wasn¡¯t the snapping teeth or wretched claws that put them off. It was the godhood of a choice not theirs to make.


    Just once, they think, let me lay in the shrapnel of some other old life as though I was laid in a bed of wildflowers.


    They stop at last to a lovely layered linen skirt hand dyed with splotches of purple and violet. Glass beads dangle from knots dangling from its upper layers, magnifying the cloth and distorting its color. On the lower layers, bleach-painted moons and stars drip from each other to the bottom of the hem. The skirt is soft in DJ¡¯s hands. They haven¡¯t seen it before, and that is enough for them to pull it from the rack and lay it over their arm. It¡¯s light, too, perfect for a dancer.


    They turn around to head back to the intersection. They aren¡¯t particularly worried about a top for their skirt, but they do want a little jewelry for their wrists. something to reflect the light of the flames, nothing more. If Mr. Crick is right, they won''t need it for very long.


    ¡°I can show you what you need for all your little dancing deeds.¡±


    DJ turns around. It¡¯s Sunshine again. They aren¡¯t startled in the slightest.


    ¡°Ah, Sunshine,¡± they begin, ¡°How have you been, old friend?¡±


    Sunshine looks puzzledly at DJ, then shrugs the feeling off. ¡°As lovely as you, I do assume. You¡¯re looking for arm cuffs, or are you sure that¡¯s enough?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve read my mind,¡± DJ grins, ¡°Do you have them?¡±


    ¡°Not on me now, but I know where to find them,¡± he explains, ¡°Come along, there¡¯s a shortcut I know through the mayhem.¡±


    DJ follows Sunshine just close enough behind to make Sunshine uncomfortable. The two meander along in no direction in particular until the music in the speakers above them grows louder from the lack of clothes to muffle them. Now, instead of racks, they find themselves encircled with bureaus and mismatched shelves on all sides, each one overflowing with shiny trinkets of all colors and sizes.


    ¡°So, DJ, take a look at what you fancy,¡± Sunshine says, ¡°Your satisfaction would be rather chancy.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± DJ says, beelining for one drawer in particular.


    Sunshine looks on in shock of their intentional steps. ¡°My my, you know where you¡¯re going. Do you know something perhaps I¡¯m not knowing?¡±


    ¡°If you mean where the arm cuffs I want are,¡± DJ replies, ¡°Then yes.¡±


    DJ sifts through the drawer until they at last come across two brass armbands bedazzled with garnets and citrus quartz. They put them on as though it were second nature. If anything they pick at this place matters, it¡¯s these.


    ¡°So Sunshine,¡± they continue, ¡°You said this place would have everything we need, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Only the best.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a notebook and pen? With a sigil of a constellation on the front?¡±


    Sunshine looks on in curiosity. ¡°Yes, I have one in this drawer. It¡¯s almost like you¡¯ve been here before.¡±


    Sunshine reaches into the drawer beside him and sifts to the bottom. He pulls out a leather bound book with a finely nibbed pen tucked neatly into its side.


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to find these things yourself, you know,¡± he says, handing the book to DJ. ¡°I let you all out to sift through the cargo.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but if I knew when to ask, then surely I had found it before.¡±


    ¡°Found it before? But you¡¯ve been here for one day, and not one day more.¡±


    DJ laughs. ¡°I¡¯ll let you solve that riddle yourself. You seem to have a knack for reading minds. Goodbye, Sunshine, have fun with your rhymes.¡±


    DJ turns away from him and starts to walk towards the door. A slow, sinking fear trickles into his stomach like marbles plink-planking down a plastic track. He can¡¯t quite put his finger on what he¡¯s afraid of, but still he shivers in terror.


    ¡­


    Make no mistake about it, Sunshine. If anyone¡¯s trapped here, it¡¯s you.


    ¡­


    Meanwhile, Peony finds herself on the other side of the space, standing before a mirror ever so slightly taller than her, holding different kimonos and robes up to herself, trying to see which pattern suits her best. She¡¯s already tossed a green jungle-patterned dress, a simple blue kimono with a crane across the back, and starry wizard robes. She wonders just how many other things she can find here, what with all the colorful fabrics as far as her eyes can see. And she doesn¡¯t mind being a little choosy. If there were but two or three robes in the entire space, she perhaps would have chosen the less desirable clothes. But with all the color around her, she won¡¯t settle.


    Her wardrobe isn¡¯t the only thing on her mind as she shuffles through all the clothes. She¡¯s a little more worried about all the other doors down the hallway. They don¡¯t all make sense to her. Sure, she¡¯d understand a closet large enough to rival an entire mall, or maybe an old tile storeroom gone unused, but the surgery room? What kind of circus needs an operating theater?


    Maybe it¡¯s just some kind of weird joke. Sunshine seems like the kind of guy to do something like that. She laughs a little. A circus does have many stages, after all. And how many circuses back in the day had exhibits of medical oddities? Perhaps if she asked him he¡¯d say it was the first room in the odd-itorium.


    Still, something feels off about everything down here. When things are supposed to be big, they¡¯re too small. When things are supposed to be vast, they¡¯re too narrow. Colors find themselves vomited into eye-straining patterns, and there''s always either too much noise or dead silence. Even now, the faint, droning radio overhead feels oppressively loud. How she can still think is beyond her.


    She picks up a deep crimson dress. She stares at it for a moment, then closes her eyes. The sound is so much easier to listen to that way.


    Seven-three, seven-zero, six-niner, seven-two, six-one, six-charlie, six-niner, six-echo, six-seven¡­


    ¡°Numbers station,¡± she mutters, ¡°Figures.¡±


    She opens her eyes again and resumes her examination of the dress. She supposes it must be winter-weight, but it isn¡¯t nearly scratchy enough to be wool. Velvet, perhaps? No, it isn¡¯t quite soft enough. Polyester? No, not nearly enough give. What sort of fabric is this?


    Well, whatever it is, it sure is red. Not quite red, maybe a little bit dullish red, but certainly something that couldn¡¯t conjure up another word at first glance. Against it, little embroidered constellations and stars in golden thread. It even has a hood for her to hide away in. Baggy sleeves, too. She wonders what sort of necromancer would hand their cape over to the circus. If not a necromancer, what vampire? It¡¯s far too good to be in a mess of wardrobes like these.


    Either way, it¡¯s too good to pass up. She tosses the hollow dress over her shoulder and meanders off to where she found the jewelry while passing through. She kicks herself for forgetting her rings at home, but figures maybe there¡¯ll be something more powerful here. Maybe even something that she can actually wear on her ring finger without it being too big around. And necklaces, too. From the little idols and books in the main room, surely Sunshine has some sort of crystal collection.  And with a dress as nice as this lying around, he no doubt has some sort of cursed item tossed in a drawer somewhere.


    With all her dreaming, she forgets to look out for DJ.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry,¡± They say, ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m sorry,¡± She replies, stumbling back away from them.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± DJ asks again.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± she says, ¡°Didn¡¯t hit you that hard, I don¡¯t think.¡±


    ¡°What have you got there?¡±


    Peony takes the cloth from her shoulder. ¡°Oh, just a dress I found. I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s made out of, but the color is so pretty.¡±


    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it?¡± DJ says, ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking, what¡¯s that thing right there?¡±


    ¡°That thing?¡±


    DJ points their claw at a stain. ¡°Yeah, that.¡±


    Peony turns the dress towards her. In the ill light, she didn¡¯t even notice it. Even in the brightness of the fluorescents around her, she still almost ignores it.


    ¡°Oh, that? I didn¡¯t even notice it. Sure blends in well with the dress.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure if I grabbed a shawl nobody would notice it.¡±


    ¡°You could, or you could put a little pin in the middle of it and draw some better eyes.¡±


    She smiles, ¡°You and your happy little accidents.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so bad about it?¡± They grin.


    ¡°Do you know where the rings and such are, DJ?¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course. If you walk from where I came, you¡¯ll find them in the drawers. Don¡¯t hesitate to look a little deeper in. I saw a few things in there that I don¡¯t think are costume stuff.¡±


    ¡°Wow, really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Also, go see if you can find a rope that¡¯s gold like the stars on the dress and tie it around your waist. It¡¯ll help you pull everything together. For now, I like where you¡¯re going with this.¡±


    Peony nods. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡±


    DJ starts back off, and soon they¡¯ve disappeared into the distance. Peony hurries off into the towers of boxes and discarded drawers in search of the elusive gems. When she finally settles on a stack that feels right, she dutifully sets the top drawers to the ground, then starts to dig. First, she finds a ruby set in fine gold. When she tugs on the pendant, she finds it attached to a long chain of the same soft metal. She puts it over her head, then keeps digging. She finds a brass snake ring with gemstone eyes nestled next to an earring of a pentacle. She finds the earring¡¯s mate next to a bracelet with four rings connected by chains. In the tangle is a golden ring of eyes. Besides it, in another mess of pearls and beads, she uncovers an ebony choker with the pride of an archaeologist. Last but not least, she finds a hairpin shaped like a long lung dragon.


    She puts all of them on, marveling at their sparkling wonder. The bracelet with the rings is perfect for her oozing hand. It¡¯s almost a prosthetic of sorts, just enough of a spacer between her fingers to create some semblance of a palm. The snake on her right hand feels right at home, and with the eyes on her ring finger she feels ever less seen. When she puts the pin in her hair, a little surge of strength flows through her, as if the dragon itself is protecting her. All she needs to do is find the shawl and the rope, and she¡¯ll be all set.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    She turns around and finds Sunshine walking towards her. Wonderful, she thinks, Just who I wanted to see.


    Except, of course, he doesn¡¯t seem to be slowing down.


    Curiously, she takes off the jewelry one by one. Only once she makes it to the eye ring does he seem to notice there. When he does, he jumps back in surprise.


    ¡°Why hello, Peony, I didn¡¯t see you there,¡± He grins, ¡°I see you¡¯re still up to your tricks in here.¡±


    She carefully hides the eye ring from his sight. ¡°Yes sir. Can¡¯t be too careful in crowded spaces like these. You never know what¡¯s hiding in plain sight.¡±


    ¡°What a wise thing for you to say,¡± He nods, ¡°You never can know what¡¯s in your way. And besides, it must be a good way for you to try on things and change. You¡¯ll never be seen if you¡¯re not in someone¡¯s range.¡±


    Peony feels herself burn red. A little ache turns in her stomach. ¡°Yes, Mr. Sunshine, a rather useful tool.¡±


    ¡°Now, I see your dress with the gold stars embroidered, do you want a good belt to hold you over?¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it, yes. A shawl too, if that¡¯s ok.¡±


    ¡°A liking for accessories, what a fashionable girl! You know how to serve a look when you take over the world.¡±


    He turns to go down a foggy, narrow passageway. Peony follows behind him at a distance. Something about his flattery is off to her. Not threatening, just off. If Sebastian were with her, she¡¯d ask him to check him. Not that she doesn¡¯t trust herself, of course. Well, maybe a little. Her mind speaks of reason, her heart whispers of worry, and her gut screams warnings in a tongue not even she understands. She doesn¡¯t quite know which one to listen to.


    Sunshine starts to channel down the passageway, which grows ever tighter as he walks. The darkness ebbs from deeper in the crevice, beckoning the two inwards. Peony¡¯s steps slowly grind to a halt. It is as if there is a line drawn on the floor, a sort of barrier she cannot cross.


    Perhaps ¡°will not¡± is a better phrase.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you coming, dear Peony? I have something for you,¡± Sunshine calls, ¡°You¡¯ll look rather lovely when we¡¯re through.¡±


    Peony stares at Sunshine. Something has changed. Her eyes dart between the oily, black tongue caged away behind rows of knife-sharp teeth and his scythe-scepter fingers, growing ever so uncomfortably longer the longer she looks. His hair creeps down over his face like spanish moss, slowly losing its vibrance in the dim light. He hunches like a vulture to her height, waiting for an answer.


    She finally looks him in the eyes. The eyes of the devil.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here if you don¡¯t mind,¡± She says, her trembling hands belieing her even tone, ¡°I¡¯d come, but I don¡¯t have the ability to conjure light.¡±


    Sunshine looks unconvinced.


    She laughs a little. ¡°If Sebastian were here, though, that¡¯d be different. He¡¯s good at that, you know. And he¡¯d have a merry little song to go with it too.¡±


    Sunshine¡¯s eyes narrow. He turns away from her and reaches into a closet. He pulls out a faded gold rope and the yellow shawl.


    ¡°Take these goods and go then, I suppose,¡± Sunshine says, handing them to her with his lower hand. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Sunshine¡¯s head is still buried in the closet. Quickly, Peony slips on the ring and runs. When Sunshine looks back, the clothes are gone from his hand, but Peony is nowhere to be seen.


    ¡­


    This isn¡¯t a good place to be alone.


    ¡­


    Sebastian, meanwhile, finds himself with Fuego deep in the jungles of cloaks and halloween costumes. The pair walk about the racks of mismatched costume parts, trying to frankenstein together the best-worst costume they can find. So far, Fuego has vens hands on the cheap cape of a vampire, the striped shirt of a clown, half a yellowed-from-age toga, and a comically large top hat. Sebastian, on the other hand, has done a somewhat decent job at maintaining a solid theme, going for a sort of evil-scientist-turned-evil-wizard vibe with his lab coat and blue robes. The only downside: if Adderall decides his cohesiveness isn¡¯t better than Fuego¡¯s mess of an outfit, he¡¯ll have his hair dyed with the spray of a mystery canister that the three of them hope isn¡¯t glue. The upside: if it is glue, Sebastian has permission to kill Adderall, provided he does it in the least painful way possible. Sebastian hopes he doesn¡¯t have to do that, but if he does, he will probably not uphold his end of the bargain. Probably.


    Sebastian scours his side of the aisle with utmost determination. If he can find a pair of goggles to go with atop his hat, he¡¯ll be all set. He scored it big a moment ago by finding the potion-holder corset. Sure, it isn¡¯t safe for lab use at all, but this is for show, not for work. Besides, it¡¯s certainly more functional than whatever fuego¡¯s got going on. What did ve just find now? A jingling jester belt? He¡¯s made some questionable fashion choices, sure, but who wears that for knife throwing?


    ¡°Oh Sebastian!¡± Fuego calls from the other side, ¡°I found something!¡±


    Sebastian peeks up from his row. ¡°What now? Did you find any clown shoes yet?¡±


    Fuego giggles and sings his taunt. ¡°I got the goggles!¡±


    Sebastian gasps. ¡°Where did you find it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a magician and you can¡¯t remember the rule about secrets?¡± ve chides.


    ¡°You¡¯re a knife thrower, Fuego, you¡¯re not under the rule.¡±


    ¡°The first rule of knife throwing is that snitches get stitches.¡±


    ¡°And telling me where the goggles are is snitching?¡±


    ¡°No, but you telling someone else where I got them would be.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright. Can you give them to me at least?¡±


    ¡°Why should I?¡±


    ¡°Remember that IOU you gave me back when you got taken hostage and couldn¡¯t pay me back your ransom?¡±


    ¡°Which hostage situation?¡±


    ¡°In the Underbed?¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?¡±


    ¡°Well, I have one of the IOUs you gave me.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re gonna use it now?¡±


    Sebastian pulls a crumpled note card from his coat pocket. ¡°Yeah. Well, one of them, at least.¡±


    He passes the note to Fuego, who reads it in slight disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s my handwriting, all right.¡±


    ¡°Sure is. Now hand them here.¡±


    ¡°How many of these do you have?¡±


    ¡°As many as every time I¡¯ve had to rescue you from a hostage situation. For a royal clerk, you¡¯re rather broke.¡±


    Fuego looks back down at the paper and shrugs. Ve hands the goggles over to Sebastian, then pockets the note.


    ¡°Alrighty, here¡¯s your goggles. You¡¯re still gonna lose, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me, I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I can see it now, we¡¯ll spray your hair blue and Peony won¡¯t even be able to look you in the eye.¡±


    ¡°Cut her some slack, she would never! Besides, we don¡¯t even know what¡¯s in that can.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Seb, you¡¯re biased for her, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    A little flash of pink hits Sebastian on his face. ¡°So what if I am? She¡¯s a good friend. I¡¯m not gonna let her get slandered by someone wearing half a toga to a knife expo.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Fuego grins, ¡°I¡¯ll stop pushing your buttons.¡±


    Good friend? Fuego thinks to venself, Sure, Seb. Keep telling yourself that.


    The two continue their meandering through the costumes without further argument. Sebastian finds a good pair of fingerless gloves in an old shoe box, and a little jar of neon green nail polish. When he finds it, he immediately goes on the hunt for another bottle. He finds a bottle of particularly glimmering purple besides a lump of discarded fabric on the floor. He stashes the two in his pockets, afraid of someone noticing despite Sunshine¡¯s openness for them to take what they need. Soon, when he decides his outfit is complete, he races off to the broken wardrobe where Adderall sits.


    When the three of them agreed on describing Adderall¡¯s wardrobe seat as broken, there really wasn¡¯t any other word to use. Its top has been completely broken off along with its doors, and the jagged wood casts shadows on the faded wall. The metalwork nailed along where the doors ought to be, is rusted. Fuego thinks perhaps it used to be depicting ships rocking about the sea, but the corrosion makes it hard to tell where hulls end and tides begin. Either way, it¡¯s a rather curious sight.


    When the two return, Adderall has reclined herself in a most peculiar way, with her back nestled inside the wardrobe and her feet dangling from the side. She¡¯s folded her outfit, a matching pair of dancer¡¯s pants and cropped shirt, haphazardly by her legs. She fidgets with some new jewelry, clicking pendants of necklaces and belt chains between her fingers. When Sebastian finally takes his place beside Fuego, she springs up from her preoccupation and turns to address the two.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± she begins, rubbing her hands together with glee, ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought your costumes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Adderall,¡± Fuego says, bowing as if she were royalty, ¡°O, judge of our quarrel, we have finished our task.¡±


    Adderall nods. ¡°Alright, now, what have you got?¡±


    Fuego triumphantly holds out each piece of mismatched costume. It seems as though after the two departed, ve found an entire trunk of jewelry to wear. None of them matched each other, of course. And a pirate¡¯s vest to wear over the clown shirt. Not that it helped the cohesiveness of the outfit.


    ¡°If I¡¯m going to be in a circus,¡± Fuego beams, ¡°I¡¯ve gotta dress the part.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful, Fuego,¡± Adderall says, ¡°Now, Seb?¡±


    Sebastian sheepishly holds out his blue, starry robes and lab coat. Then the cargo pants and the corset, his hands slowly starting to shake as Adderall¡¯s face turns to that of slight disapproval. Then the hat with the goggles perched atop it and the fingerless gloves. Then the nail polish.


    ¡°Uh, it¡¯s not practical for doing science or magic,¡± He explains, almost pleading for Adderall to pass judgment over him, ¡°But I think it¡¯s cool.¡±


    ¡°You do,¡± Adderall says, ¡°But I think it¡¯ll look better after we spray your hair a little!¡±


    Sebastian tries to play it cool. ¡°Can we at least test it on a wig or something? We just found that laying around. Besides, I didn¡¯t agree to that, Fuego did. Let ven try it.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Seb, but rules are rules,¡± Adderall giggles, ¡°Come on over, it¡¯ll only take a minute.¡±


    Sebastian grimaces. Oh well, at least they¡¯re family. To him, at least. He doubts they remember. He walks over to Adderall in defeat.


    ¡°And just what sort of trouble is going on here?¡±


    To their surprise, Sunshine stands tall over the trio. Adderall fumbles with the can for a moment, and Fuego swiftly darts over to her side. Sebastian rises from his resolution and happily addresses Sunshine.


    ¡°We decided to have a costume contest between the two of us,¡± he explains, ¡°And the loser got their hair sprayed with whatever¡¯s in this can. I lost.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I saw you slumping over to Adderall in fear,¡± Sunshine says, ¡°So you made the judge Fuego¡¯s sister in arms? Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s unfair to Sebastian at all?¡±


    Adderall and Fuego look at each other.


    ¡°Well, uh,¡± Adderall begins, ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything-¡±


    ¡°And why would he, such a humble fellow, give you any trouble when he¡¯s rather quite mellow? Sebastian, ready to put his mane on the line, and you agree on your plan while he¡¯s standing behind.¡±


    Sebastian looks back at Adderall and Fuego. He almost smiles.


    ¡°Give me the can, let¡¯s make sure that it¡¯s ok, then you two go find actual fits in your way. He did good by his search and you two schemed to yourselves, so it¡¯s only fair now you get back to the shelves.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sunshine,¡± Adderall squeaks, hurrying off the wardrobe.


    ¡°Sorry, Sunshine,¡± Fuego replies, following close.


    When the two start to hurry off to the racks, Sebastian turns to Sunshine.


    ¡°I mean, thanks,¡± He begins, ¡°But you didn¡¯t have to do that for me, you know?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t take too kindly to betrayals between friends,¡± Sunshine says, ¡°Especially against the elder on whom they depend. It happened to me once, and it made me quite bitter, but in the end I decided to use it for the better.¡±


    Sebastian rubs the wire along his neck. ¡°Gee, thanks. Say, how did you know they were planning against me?¡±


    ¡°Cognitive sparks, they never do fail. It¡¯s a clear cut, ever reliable trail.¡±


    Sebastian looks up at Sunshine in confusion. ¡°Oh. I thought you were gonna say sibling instinct or something.¡±


    Sunshine laughs. ¡°I never had brothers or sisters or kin. But I trust your experience makes it easy to pin.¡±


    Sebastian laughs along nervously.


    ¡°Now, I saw your magical-scientist scheme, and I wanted to help you along with your theme. Take this wand, it will help you with your works. I give you my word, it has no tricks or quirks.¡±


    Sunshine hands him a little wand carved from the branch of an old neuron. A deep purple stone rests at its head, connected to the branch with copper wire. He doesn¡¯t know the stone, but he¡¯s sure Peony does.


    ¡°Oh, thank you, Sunshine,¡± he replies, ¡°I¡¯ll use it well.¡±


    Sunshine tips his hat to Sebastian. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, my boy, now go find your friends. It¡¯ll be easier to navigate through all this mess.¡±


    As Sunshine strides away, the tingling of his wires lingers in the back of his mind. What did Sunshine mean by cognitive sparks? Did Sunshine pick up on his electricity through him?


    Sebastian examines the wand. Sunshine is right, no tricks on it at all. And if he really doubts himself, DJ would know.


    ¡­


    Sunshine? Can you hear me? Through all of this mess, can you hear me?


    ¡­


    Juniper poses on a stool before a vast, open mirror. She radiates with the pride of a silver-screen star as she examines herself in her costume. As always, she finds herself in minty green, with a fine silk scarf wrapped over her shoulders and a black dress hugging her form. Lava-stone beads dangle from bracelets around her wrists, and a little crown of opals rounds her head like an earthly halo. She doesn¡¯t see just herself in her reflection, no, she sees a performer. A show-stopping piece of grace and elegance the likes of which this circus has never seen before. And sure, it may just be a circus, but why not? Why not be a little extra? After all, if someone saw her dancing on the silks and thought she was wonderful enough, she could leave this place and never have to go home again. The circus is merely a transition space, and soon she may leave this stage for a better one.


    She picks up a pair of cuff earrings from a box by her cushion. She examines the little jade stones dangling from them, then carefully puts them on her ears. For cuff earrings, they¡¯re rather comfortable. She thinks she¡¯ll leave them on.


    ¡°Ah, getting comfortable, I see?¡±


    She turns around to find Sunshine standing in the entryway to her little alcove. Her stool and mirror is surrounded on all sides by dressers, and when she first found herself in the area that she was in another room. It isn¡¯t the strangest room she¡¯s seen today, after all. When she was watching Sunshine skitter about the hallway like a panicked lanternfly, she saw him open a door that leaked blood onto the floor.


    Sunshine doesn¡¯t bother her standing in the door like that. If anything, his presence is a welcome sight to her. She¡¯s been building a list of questions for him all crepuscule, and now she finally has the chance to ask. She straightens herself on her stool and invites him in.


    ¡°Ah, Sunshine,¡± She grins, ¡°Just the man I wanted to see! Do you think this would be alright for a dancer?¡±


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s more about how comfortable you¡¯ll be,¡± he replies, ¡°Are you wearing shorts underneath that dress of yours? You wouldn¡¯t want anyone looking upskirt while you perform.¡±


    She waves her paw at him. ¡°I already thought of that, don¡¯t worry. This dress has a pair of shorts built into it. I saw the skirt when I was perusing the clothes here, and I thought it was gonna be some sort of dancer¡¯s uniform. Sure enough, I was right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to know you¡¯re satisfied with all the things around you. I¡¯d be happy to help if there¡¯s something you need to do.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I actually have some questions about the stuff down here,¡± Juniper says, propping herself up on her knees.


    Sunshine strides over to an open stool and sits down. ¡°Have no fear, I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so, what sorts of tea places do you have here?¡±


    ¡°Tea places? You think too highly of me! Though I¡¯m sure you mean that with nothing but glee. I have stands that serve boba and milk teas alike, but I have loose leaves here if that¡¯s more your type. Just come down and knock, and send the dolls for supplies. They¡¯ll be in and back again in the blink of an eye.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. How about food?¡±


    ¡°I take pride in the food I offer for my guests. I work very hard to ensure it¡¯s the best. Whether noodles or dumplings, sweet treats or ice, I¡¯m sure everything here will be a delight. There¡¯s a street with fried goods at every turn, with good sounds that sizzle and smells that never burn. Down another, baked treats, the ovens are always hot. There¡¯s pastries that are little, and some cakes that are not. The candy district¡¯s my pride and joy, though your dentist at home would be far past annoyed. The odds and ends market has all you could want. There¡¯s this and there¡¯s that, but I¡¯ve no need to flaunt. Whatever¡¯s your favorite, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve got it here. If I don¡¯t, just ask, and I¡¯ll bring it near.¡±


    ¡°And what else is there to do besides watching the show? Like, games, fun houses, anything like that?¡±


    ¡°The daily parade is a spectacle, you see, it starts every day at thirteen past three. They start from the main midway and walk down the whole fair, and there¡¯s everything you could want to see in there. There¡¯s trampoline frog-fish that flip and do tricks, there¡¯s white-faced owlbears who walk hand first on sticks. There¡¯s rideable inchworms that are seven feet tall, and there¡¯s thimble elephants that are so very small. But that¡¯s just the parade, there¡¯s much more to do, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen the games, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. But is there anything else in that entertainment district that we should visit?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a haunted house right down from the odd exhibit, on the corner by the singing ducks, I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t miss it. It whisks up your brain and uses your fears to deliver the best scare you¡¯ll have in years! And the odd exhibit is worth a look too, I¡¯ve got collections of things from near and afloo. Right down the street from there is the nickelodeon stage, it always plays movies from what I can gauge. And of course I have rides, rides like you¡¯ve never seen. Roller coasters and flat rides like there¡¯s never been. My personal favorite is the central carousel, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree that it¡¯s really swell. The calliope sings with the lungs of the wind, and the music itself will raise the hairs on your skin. Not to mention the animals, there¡¯s one of every kind. From bugs, fish, to mammals, there¡¯s so much to find. And it¡¯s spread on five tiers, so it¡¯s hard to miss too. I¡¯d be so excited now if I were you.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s good! And are there any amenities down here we ought to know of?¡±


    ¡°Well there¡¯s the closet you¡¯re in, and you know well of that, but these doors down here to get at. I¡¯m trying to think off the top of my head, can you give me a minute? I¡¯ll tell you then.¡±


    ¡°Well, I know whenever we have to stay in towns and such we always ask about a bath house, a library, and a garden. I know that¡¯s a little much to ask of a circus, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh Juniper, sweet Juniper, you underestimate me! There¡¯s things down here you wouldn¡¯t believe. Of course I have a bath house, we passed it on the way. Though I haven¡¯t had it used for a long time, I¡¯ll say. I have a library too, down a little further from here. It¡¯s got massive volumes and books that are weird. I have a garden too, where I grow all my herbs, and you¡¯re welcome to stop by, just give the dolls my good word.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Thanks, Sunshine, I¡¯ll pass the word along when I see them.¡±


    Sunshine rests his hand on Juniper¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I believe in you, Juniper, you seem a good show. Don¡¯t be nervous out there, just get up and go.¡±


    Juniper almost jumps at first. She isn¡¯t used to that kind of attention. Or any attention, for that matter. Still though, she appreciates it, perhaps even enjoys it.


    ¡°Thank you, Sunshine. I¡¯ll certainly do my best.¡±


    Sunshine nods, then stands back up and walks for the door. When he leaves, she picks up a couple extra trinkets and leaves too. Hopefully, everyone¡¯s close and she can tell them everything in one go.


    ¡­


    I kinda like Sunshine. A lot better than my dad, at least.

 Cu3Zn2

    Sunshine isn¡¯t hard to find amongst the clothes. Ikimono supposes the only good thing about his height is that he¡¯s a constant beacon. Whatever shadows cast their ways about, whatever darkness befalls the circus, whatever cavern of trouble they find themselves in, Sunshine always leads them back out.


    Not that that was ever a good thing.


    For once, Ikimono decides to indulge a little in the surplus of the closet. It¡¯s been quite a while since they¡¯ve been left to run amuck inside of it. For good reason, probably. Desmond once told them that they were a crow with rights and anxiety, and he was right. If a sewing needle isn¡¯t safe from Ikimono¡¯s watchful eyes and grubby hands, then perhaps leaving them unattended with jewelry is a fool¡¯s decision. Which is exactly why Ikimono is staying as far away from Sunshine as possible.


    They carefully investigate every drawer in every bureau, ducking into wardrobes and empty frames at even the slightest indication of Sunshine looking in their direction. They aren¡¯t even sure what they¡¯re looking for at this point, but still they search. The rings don¡¯t look appealing with their peeling hands, and earrings are off the table without piercings to stick them through. Maybe a bracelet, but Sunshine would notice too easily. A necklace? No, that would mess with the noose. The thought of having to pull two wires from their neck instead of just one sends shivers down their back.


    Maybe Peony would know about this.


    The thought rings in their head, then slowly drives their feet. Peony seems rather fashionable, after all. The only issue would of course be the looming threat of being seen. They duck into empty wardrobes whenever they come across them and hide for a minute or two in each one just to be safe. Wood is a good conductor, sure, but the ceramic bases on their legs can keep any thought from being heard. They dart in and out of the wardrobes like clockwork.


    That is, of course, until they open the door and hit Fuego.


    Fuego knows it¡¯s a bad time to go running around in the closet, especially after Sunshine¡¯s little lecture a while back. But ve¡¯s got vens costume now, and surely once Sunshine sees it he won¡¯t be mad at ven. At least, he shouldn¡¯t be mad. But now ve¡¯s got something else to worry about, and it¡¯s whether or not vens nose is bleeding.


    Ikimono falls over themselves apologizing. The mix of shock and the spiral of words not entirely in common doesn¡¯t lend itself to ven listening to them.


    ¡°Yeah, no, you¡¯re good,¡± Fuego replies, hoping ve¡¯s guessed correctly on how to reply.


    Ikimono looks relieved. ¡°Do you know where Peony is?¡±


    Fuego recalls seeing Sebastian work his way back to the door, but ve didn¡¯t see Peony with him. ¡°I know where Sebastian is, if that helps.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Peony.¡±


    ¡°What do you need her for?¡± Fuego asks, starting to lean on the wardrobe beside ven.


    ¡°I was looking for her advice on jewelry. I want to find something for myself, something that maybe Sunshine won¡¯t notice if I have.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve hit the right fae in the face! I know a good bit about jewelry. Matter of fact, when I¡¯m back home at the castle, I make the stuff myself.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Of course! How else do you think I get these runes? You don¡¯t find stones like these in any old stream.¡±


    ¡°Can you help me, then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Something discreet. I don¡¯t want Sunshine suspecting anything.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so nothing visible. Do you have any piercings?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you want any piercings?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I know how to do them. I did most of mine myself, actually. You just take a needle and-¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Not now, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Do you maybe want to try an anklet or an armlet?¡±


    ¡°An anklet goes around your ankle, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes it does.¡±


    ¡°Then no on that.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so an armlet?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That one goes around your arm?¡±


    ¡°Yep. Right around the tricep on your upper arm.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s do that.¡±


    Fuego starts ahead back into the horde of boxes, and Ikimono tails behind ven. At first, Fuego doesn¡¯t notice, but after a minute, ve turns back around to see them.


    ¡°Hey, uh,¡± ve begins, ¡°You don¡¯t have to walk behind me, you know. There¡¯s room next to me.¡±


    Wordlessly, Ikimono catches up to Fuego.


    The two start to rummage through the boxes once they find themselves completely surrounded by them. Fuego tells Ikimono what to keep their eye out for: a rigid band with a stone in the center. Fuego assures them they¡¯ll know when they¡¯ve found one. The two stand with their backs to each other and quietly begin their hunt. Occasionally, though, Ikimono looks up to see where Sunshine is. They don¡¯t want to get Fuego in this mess. Ve doesn¡¯t need any more trouble than just being here.


    ¡°Say, Ikimono?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Do you have a favorite crystal?¡±


    ¡°Favorite crystal?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Like, quartz, garnet, amethyst, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I haven¡¯t seen many crystals.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Do you have a color that calls out to you?¡±


    ¡°That calls out to me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Not your favorite color, but one you can¡¯t help being drawn to. Like, something that most of your stuff ends up being, but you don¡¯t even notice it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. What do you think I¡¯d be?¡±


    Fuego turns around to face Ikimono. Ve notices for the first time the Sparks of Life in their eyes. Their upside-down crosses by their pupils cast little bits of light in the shadows of the boxes around them.


    ¡°You know, I bet you like purple. But I think you¡¯re more of an amber guy. Or girl, or neither.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Amber¡¯s the tree sap, right?¡±


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Yeah. You¡¯ve seen Jurassic Park, right?¡±


    Ikimono cocks their head to the side.


    ¡°It¡¯s this movie about this guy who makes dinosaurs at a lab. He used some DNA in the blood of a mosquito preserved in amber to do it.¡±


    ¡°Oh. A movie, you said?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Is there a movie theater here?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the nickelodeon. It shows cartoons.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s not a cartoon. Say, maybe if I can scrounge up a bootleg DVD and something to watch it on, do you wanna watch it together?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like it if you¡¯d have me.¡±


    ¡°Perfect! I¡¯ll keep that in the back of my head, then.¡±


    Fuego turns back around and continues looking. Ikimono stares for a moment at ven.


    Why is ve so calm? they think, What might ve be hiding?


    Ikimono turns back around and keeps digging through the trinkets.


    Minutes pass by before either one says anything to each other again. When at last the two feel like they¡¯ve each found enough, they both turn back to each other. Fuego carries half an arm¡¯s load of armlets, and Ikimono has a smaller handful alongside a shining gold chain.


    ¡°I found a couple I think you¡¯d like,¡± Fuego says, starting to spread his armload out on his free arm, ¡°What did you find?¡±


    Ikimono holds out the armlets. ¡°Same as you.¡±


    ¡°And the chain?¡±


    ¡°For you. As thanks for helping.¡±


    Fuego smiles. ¡°That¡¯s awful nice of you. Hold onto it for a minute, though. I¡¯m taking care of you first.¡±


    Ikimono looks around at the armlets on Fuego¡¯s arm. Their eyes pass by the silver flowers and golden bands with relative disinterest. A bronze spiral catches their eye, but only for a moment. Finally, their eye comes to rest on a thick, brass band with an amber bound with copper wire.


    Fuego notices Ikimono¡¯s intrigue. ¡°I figured you¡¯d like that one.¡±


    ¡°Can I try it on?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°Of course! Roll up your sleeve real quick for me.¡±


    Ikimono balances the armlets and chain on his right hand, then pulls the cardigan sleeve off of their left arm. Fuego sets the other armlets atop a stack of metallurgy, then turns to put the band on Ikimono¡¯s arm.


    ¡°I love the patterns you¡¯ve got going on here,¡± Fuego says, admiring a patch of cloth sewn into Ikimono¡¯s skin, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen tattoos like these before. Where¡¯d you get ¡®em?¡±


    Ikimono nervously laughs. ¡°They¡¯re not tattoos.¡±


    Fuego rubs his finger on the paisley-patterned velvet. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s not skin.¡±


    Ikimono grins with even more anxiety. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Fuego pauses for a minute. ¡°Well, uh, that¡¯s not important right now. You¡¯re here to try this thing on, and that¡¯s what you¡¯re gonna do.¡±


    Ikimono nods. Fuego takes that as ven¡¯s sign to go ahead. WIth a swift, careful motion, ve puts the band on Ikimono¡¯s arm and clips it around the back.


    Ikimono admires the band with no small wonder in their eyes. It fits so perfectly around their arm, neither too loose nor too snug. The metal is cold against their flesh, and their arm slightly tingles from the newfound sensation. They run their fingers along the copper, surprised at how sleek the finish is atop it. The amber within it, too, is shockingly sleek and even more so beautiful. They hold their arm as close to their face as they can to try and see what figure is contained within it.


    Fuego pulls vens hands away from Ikimono¡¯s arm. ¡°I think there¡¯s a praying mantis in there. They¡¯re symbols of courage in the old world. I think that suits you.¡±


    Ikimono looks up from the armlet. ¡°Yeah. I like it.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to try a different one?¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s alright, but let¡¯s keep this one nearby in case it ends up being the best one.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me. You get your armlet, I¡¯ll find the other bands. Is there one you want first?¡±


    ¡°The bronze one, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°You got it.¡±


    Ikimono tosses the chain over their shoulder and drops the other armlets as they reach for the brass band. They try to twist the band around, but it won¡¯t budge. They try to at least stick their finger between the band and their skin, but to no avail. They try following the band around to the back of their arm, but it seems as though the clasp has disappeared into nothingness.


    ¡°Hey, Fuego?¡± They say, their voice starting to shake, ¡°I can¡¯t get this off.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that happens sometimes,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°Let me help you.¡±


    Fuego tugs on the band, finding it tightly adhered to Ikimono. He tries pulling on the sides of the band around the amber, but it remains stuck.


    ¡°Could you hold up your arm for a minute?¡±


    Ikimono holds up their left arm, bending their elbow so Sunshine doesn¡¯t see them.


    ¡°Huh. Looks like the armlet fused into some sort of ring around your arm.¡±


    ¡°Is that supposed to happen?¡±


    ¡°Uh, no.¡±


    ¡°Is that bad?¡±


    ¡°No. We¡¯ll get it off. Here, I¡¯ve got a plan. Lower your arm.¡±


    Ikimono lowers their arm.


    ¡°You put your hand around your arm and push down, and I¡¯ll try pulling it off,¡± Fuego explains, putting his hand around the amber.


    Ikimono puts their free hand above the top of the armlet. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m ready when you are.¡±


    ¡°Alright. 1, 2, 3, push!¡±


    Ikimono pushes with all the strength in their hand, and Fuego tries pulling with the same force. The armlet won¡¯t budge. Now, though, a sharp pain starts to stab its way up into Ikimono¡¯s arm, into their chest, and into their neck. They keep pushing, though, hopeful that the two of them will at least slide it down a little. But the band remains steadfast, and soon the scalding heat of liquid metal starts to ebb and flow through Ikimono¡¯s core. The burning, viscous slime trickles down to his stomach, then settles into a molten puddle at their hips. The hot smoke of burning cotton and herbs rises up into a torn part of their throat, and the taste burns bitter on their tongue. They go for a breath, but find the air will not come. Soon, the pain becomes unbearable.


    ¡°Please stop,¡± Ikimono whimpers.


    At once, Fuego lets go of the band. Ikimono cradles their arm as if they are a wounded animal. They do not bleed, though. Even as the fiery metallic heat churns around in their chest, not a single nib of blood forms in the corners of their eyes.


    Now, though, Fuego notices something venself. A sting is growing on the palm of vens hand. Too little to hurt, of course, but enough to be uncomfortable. Ve turns over vens hand to look at vens palm, only to find vens hand has started to corrode. Pox marks of rust slowly disintegrate away into waxy strings of skin, dripping down from vens hand onto the ground. The acidic stench of burning keratin wafts into the air. Blood emerging from newly vaporized blood vessels rusts rings around the open wounds, stopping the decay only when vens palm has completely given way into open, leaking muscle.


    Ikimono sucks their breath through their teeth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    Fuego can¡¯t muster up panic fast enough. ¡°No, no. You¡¯re ok. You didn¡¯t mean it. I¡¯ll get a band-aid or something.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I did it anyway.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do it, that armlet did. And now it¡¯s stuck on you. If anything, I ought to tell you sorry for putting it on.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Alright. We ought to find the others.¡±


    ¡°You go.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It hurts.¡±


    ¡°What hurts?¡±


    ¡°Everything.¡±


    Ikimono collapses to the floor, clutching their stomach. Fuego never would have thought they could scream that loud.


    ¡­


    Sometimes I have this dream about the lamb and the church. It''s always the same lamb, you see, it''s always the same sweet, docile, innocent little thing. It doesn''t move when they put the rope around its neck to lead it along, it doesn''t bleat in protest when it walks along the temple halls. It just trots along so merrily, like it doesn''t fear the priest at all. Sometimes I get the feeling it loves the priest, but the line between love and fear is a razor that cuts when you try walking along it. When they finally get to the altar, the priest doesn''t even tie down the poor thing, it just lays there. The priest puts his hand on its wet little nose, and maybe it bleats in its little lamb voice, but that''s all. They cut into the poor creature, and its blood flows like rivers and its guts stream out like fine ribbon, and it doesn''t even so much as twitch in pain. All the red inside is staining all over its soft, white fleece, and it doesn''t even move. And the priest leaves indifferent and comes back with the same lamb again, ever obedient, to be put down for slaughter.


    It''s odd, isn''t it? You pray, now I lay me down to sleep, and there''s never any mention of your dreams. You beg for something else to put you down, and you never expect a dream. You ask to wake up, but do you, ever? Why do you ask what holds the knife to be gentle when they cut?


    They built the chapel in an old barn. (Isn''t it ironic?) They made the pews from old scrap wood, and the cushions are stuffed with hay. (The whole place would catch fire if they knocked over the candles.) The books are yellowed from age (but the ink doesn''t even look like words anymore). They sing hymns you don''t even know the words to, and you cry when you sing them (and you don''t know why). You try to scrub your brain free of the thoughts (but you can''t). You imagine eyes in every shadow and corner (because that''s how they taught you to fear). You wonder when they''ll finally put down the knife. (They already did. They will again).


    They tell you the chapel is the holy space. They''ll tell you it''s sacred. But when you''re sitting in the front pew, you''ll notice the glimmer of the lamb''s eyes in the candlelight were tears the whole time.

 Five Minute Adventure

    ¡°You¡¯re the first person to ask about this in a while,¡± Sunshine begins, clicking the key in the lock, ¡°I do hope you¡¯ll find it lives up to your style.¡±


    Peony quietly takes hold of Sebastian¡¯s hand as Sunshine opens the door to the bathhouse. When she heard the scream, all she could think to do was distract Sunshine from whomever it was, but she knew she couldn¡¯t do it alone. She debated telling Sebastian, but the words didn¡¯t come. All she could muster was please, and that was all he needed.


    ¡°Thank you for showing us, though,¡± She replies, ¡°I figured I¡¯d ask before we got too carried away with the show and everything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, we all have questions to ask. And all things considered, this is quite the simple task.¡±


    He opens the battered door into the room. As Peony takes her first step in, candles ignite around the room, casting formless shadows on the walls in the halos of pink flame. The floors of sea glass tiles click with every step she takes. Soon, Sebastian follows her into the room, his feet clinking against the tiles too. Sunshine doesn¡¯t join them. Instead, he gently nudges the door almost shut with a quiet groan.


    ¡°Probably one of the nicer bathhouses in Portar,¡± Sebastian says in a hush.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Peony replies.


    Bottles and jars of every shape, color, and contents pile high atop the shelf next to the door. Opposite of it, forming almost a hallway coming from the door, are cubbies full of neatly folded towels and washcloths. Inlets perfectly obscured with opaque curtains stand ominously at the end of the hallway. From underneath one covered stall is a puddle of sickly black liquid that Peony hopes is only a stain. The air is cold, almost dusty, yet still smells vaguely of herbs and salts from days gone by. When Peony starts to walk down the hall, Sebastian dutifully follows behind her. Peony slips on her ring, and Sebastian blinks the wings on his eyes. In a moment¡¯s time, they are invisible to whatever might want to see them.


    Past the doorway at the end of the hall is the vast expanse of the inner bathhouse. Old scrolls of flowers and mountains inked on yellowed paper hang motionlessly on the walls. To their left, a grand mirror leans against the red tile wall, supported by melted candles with waxy roots that flow between the sea glass. In the corner rests the opalescent outline of a sprawling bathtub with the clawed feet of a griffin cast in gold. On the wall beside it, a once golden tap protrudes awkwardly from the wall alongside a single dial. Glyphs and warnings find themselves smeared along the back wall with the same ink as before. The other wall hosts a shower with a crooked copper pipe which sprouts from the ground like some awkward weed with no dial to be found. Near it, more scribblings. In the very center of the room lies the drain, and from it rises some odd scent of stagnant water.


    Peony starts to walk about the room. Even in the dim light, the black splotches and stains stick out like searchlights. She follows a trail of footprints (or at least, what look like footprints) to the bathtub. The basin is vast, perhaps large enough to cradle all the vast coilings of a grand Wyrm king. The white porcelain is completely untouched by the stains, but for a second the gold-filled cracks along the bottom appear to be carvings of teeth. As soon as the image fills her mind, though, it vanishes from sight.


    The candles along the edge are lit with little pink flames that stand firmer than trees in the dead air. Though the wax on the candles is melted into ghastly piles and carvings, it seems now like the candles will never erode. She wonders if the mirror candles are the same. Not that she would mind when she would return. The dim light like this is perfect for a sanctuary like this. They¡¯re mysterious, cast perfect to hide within, provided just enough light.


    And dare I say romantic?


    She snaps around in shock. Her eyes dart about the room, frantically looking for Sebastian. For a moment, she expects him to accost her for her thoughts. If she could be watched, why not by him?


    ¡°Sebastian?¡± She calls.


    Sebastian sheepishly turns away from a splotch of ink oozing from the walls. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± She replies, ¡°Never mind.¡±


    Sebastian turns back to the splatter on the wall, and Peony returns her gaze to the tub. Her mind froths with a flurry of thoughts so disjointed they resemble white noise. She almost feels betrayed by her brain.


    Besides, she thinks, trying to collect the scatter into some coherent mass, He¡¯d never feel the same.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    It¡¯s a solid solution and a modest conclusion. She can¡¯t prove it, but she can¡¯t disprove it either, and in some weird way that makes peace. Peace enough, at least, to ignore the flurry of thoughts whirling around her head like fish in a bowl.


    Well, except for one thing.


    She doesn¡¯t know yet, but she¡¯s wrong.


    Sebastian has good reason to be hiding away by the stain of ink. He caught one glance of Peony in the mirror and went catatonic.


    He knows good and well why he gets like this around her, and by now he¡¯s learned to stop fighting it. After all, when the men of Greek myth laid their eyes on Aphrodite, they couldn¡¯t help falling in love with her, right? And Peony, who pulled him from the Abyssal Sea, who stitched him back together after their scuffle with Malus, who always sat so attently to listen to his music, is no different. She¡¯s a goddess, and he is her devotee. With all the kindness she¡¯s given to him, perhaps his love is the only way he can make up for it.


    She¡¯s his ally, his friend, everything he can want from her. Every step they take is for each other anyway, so who¡¯s to say they aren¡¯t already a little in love with each other? How happy it makes him to have her at his side, standing back to back, or leading the way into whatever danger they could face. He can¡¯t be more blessed to have her as a friend, and he¡¯s content with that. Yes, he is content.


    Satisfied? No.


    All he wants is an answer. Every day he asks the same wordless question hoping she replies. He doesn¡¯t even mind the answer being no. Perhaps the answer would be better off no. Maybe he¡¯d finally be rid of the longing gazes that tear at his chest and the discordant dreams that leave him wide awake with nosebleeds in the misty hours of the night. Maybe, if she said no, they¡¯d be better friends. Friends don¡¯t just yearn for one another like glassy-eyed lovers in gothic novels. Friends don¡¯t find that the world has less color when they¡¯re apart. And certainly friends don¡¯t have to stare at a splotch of ink in a bathhouse to distract themselves from the other. Yes, it would be better. It¡¯s just his humanity that makes him want what he wants, even if it¡¯s not for the best.


    He thinks about a yes much less than he does a no. But now, surrounded by the dewy scent of the herbed water and the hazy light of the candles, he does. He imagines Peony brought him here for the sole purpose of telling him. What a way to start an adventure, she¡¯d laugh, to tell your partner in the magic show that you¡¯re in love with them. And he¡¯d tell her just how he feels, and he¡¯d joke about how maybe now their magic would be stronger, and they¡¯d kiss and leave the room with a little secret between them. And whenever either of them came down to get cleaned up or just relax, they¡¯d think of the other, and everything would be ok. Everything would be ok.


    And we could come down here together if we wanted to.


    Sebastian coughs to snap himself out of his daydream and focuses back on the ink. Those are the thoughts he¡¯s come to fear. Peony would hate him for thinking like that.


    ¡°Hey, Peony?¡± He asks, looking away from the blackness.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    It¡¯s hard for him to pull the words from his head. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve, uh, been staring at this for a while, and it sorta looks like a door.


    ¡°A door?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°Yeah. Like, maybe you could just walk through it if you wanted to.¡±


    He knows it sounds stupid. Anything to distract him from her, he supposes.


    Peony cocks her head to the side. ¡°Huh. It does, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Maybe a little later we can come back down here and try going through it?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I don¡¯t see why not.¡±


    ¡°Great, wonderful.¡±


    ¡°Should we go back and tell the others about this place?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    They hesitantly turn and leave the inner chamber, then slowly walk down the main hallway. Peony slips off the ring. Neither of them say a word to each other. Their thoughts are too preoccupied with how much they love the other and how much the other must despise them.


    Sunshine waits at the door. He scowls at the pair when they emerge from the darkness within. He couldn¡¯t hear them when they were in the room, and now, with their amorous thoughts, he suspects the worst.


    ¡°Glad to see you again, and about time too,¡± he growls, ¡°You weren¡¯t messing around in there, were you?¡±


    ¡°Messing around?¡± Sebastian asks, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t pay attention when boys and girls go off alone. Now, I may be a lenient man, but this is not your home.¡±


    ¡°Oh god, no, we weren¡¯t doing anything,¡± Peony rebukes. ¡°We did only what we told you we were gonna do, and that was check the place out. We were there for five minutes, nothing more!¡±


    ¡°One can do a lot in five minutes, I daresay. You wouldn¡¯t want to know what happens when you disobey.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Sunshine, with all due respect, if I was gonna do something like that, I¡¯d take a hell of a lot longer than five minutes to do it.¡±


    Sebastian goes red.


    ¡°Come on, Seb,¡± She grimaces, taking his hand in frustration. ¡°Let¡¯s go tell the others where the bathhouse is.¡±

 Sisyphus and Prometheus

    ¡°You dyed their hair purple?¡±


    DJ looks at the three with slight disappointment. Adderall and Fuego shoot each other knowing glances, but Ikimono can¡¯t help but just stare at DJ.


    ¡°Just the tips,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Not their entire head.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I see that,¡± DJ replies, pinching the bridge of their shout, ¡°With god-knows-how-old dye from a spray can.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Adderall replies, ¡°We were gonna do Sebastian¡¯s, but Sunshine yelled at us.¡±


    DJ sighs. ¡°So Sunshine yelled at you and you still went through with it?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t yell at us this time,¡± Fuego adds.


    ¡°Because Sunshine didn¡¯t see you do it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you tell us it¡¯s better to ask for forgiveness than permission?¡±


    ¡°Adderall, I tell you that when we¡¯re on a job and there¡¯s either lives on the line or good money at stake. Not when you decide to use the new party member as a guinea pig for hair dye.¡±


    Fuego pats Ikimono on the shoulder. ¡°I think they look good.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not my point at all.¡±


    Juniper idly kicks her legs while she sits upon the chest. ¡°Do they like it though?¡±


    DJ gives Juniper a tired glare, then returns their gaze to the other three. ¡°Ikimono?¡±


    Ikimono looks at DJ, then at Adderall and Fuego. Sunshine is going to be livid when he sees them. Then again, if he already yelled at the two, they probably wouldn¡¯t be the one in trouble. And the purple does look nice from where they see it in the corners of their eyes. If Sebastian was right about the purple in their eyes, it would compliment their eyes, and their scarf too. Maybe with the purple by their face, Sunshine would actually look them in the eyes.


    ¡°I do,¡± Ikimono says.


    Tanoshii to omotte, they think to themselves.


    DJ breaths a heavy sigh. ¡°Alright. Alright. If you two get Ikimono in trouble, you¡¯re getting it.¡±


    DJ reaches for the door of the closet. For how big the space inside is, it¡¯s shockingly easy to find one¡¯s way back to the door. Or at least, it¡¯s easy for them. Maybe the others have more trouble finding their way.


    ¡°How did you even remember where the door was?¡± Juniper asks, as if on queue.


    The question almost startles DJ. ¡°Oh, you know, precognition, good sense of direction.¡±


    They turn the knob, but just as they pull the door inwards, they¡¯re met with Sunshine pushing the door open to their side. DJ holds their stare with Sunshine, but notices him sharply pull away from the knob as soon as he notices them. DJ wants to smile.


    He nervously laughs. ¡°Oh, didn¡¯t see you there, my apologies so! I take it you here are all good to go.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± DJ nods.


    Sunshine practically shoves Sebastian and Peony back into the group. Peony takes the bag of costumes from Juniper, then looks back at Sunshine and scowls. Sebastian walks behind DJ and hunches his shoulders.


    ¡°Now, how about I take you all up and show you to the tent?¡± He continues, ¡°I figure that will make our time better spent.¡±


    Sunshine motions for them all to go out into the hallway. They file out obediently, one after another, until Sunshine notices Ikimono in the line. He pulls Ikimono to the side, looks him up and down, then calls over the others in a huff.


    He grumbles. ¡°You kids test my patience, but I suppose it¡¯s your nature. I mean, what did I expect with a bunch of teenagers?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m 27,¡± DJ mumbles.


    ¡°Teenagers, grown-ups, you¡¯re both youthfully foolish. It¡¯s not till you hit 50 you stop being so ghoulish. But that¡¯s not the point, what¡¯s the meaning of this? Which of you insolent worms had a run of your wits?¡±


    Ikimono looks at the crowd, stone faced. The others look at each other in confusion and dread. Especially Adderall and Fuego. Ikimono glances at the pair and suddenly gets an awful idea.


    They point towards Adderall and Fuego. ¡°DJ did it.¡±


    DJ¡¯s face drops. Fuego fights a snicker.


    DJ sputters. ¡°What? Me? Ikimono, I-¡±


    They look at Ikimono, then at Sunshine. He¡¯s livid.


    ¡°I did, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    Sunshine rushes over to DJ and grabs them by the wrist. DJ almost steps back, but holds firm in their stance.


    He growls. ¡°I should¡¯ve known sooner from your clever remarks that you¡¯d be more trouble than insolent thoughts.¡±


    DJ¡¯s breathing is practically silent. ¡°Let go of my wrist.¡±


    ¡°I can do what I want here, thank you very much, and your actions have brought me to a punishing touch.¡±


    ¡°Genuinely, Sunshine, let go of my wrist. You¡¯re gonna burn yourself.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know old bones don¡¯t burn? Apparently there¡¯s much you haven¡¯t learned.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but they leave grid patterns.¡±


    A sharp look of confusion crawls across Sunshine¡¯s face. He takes his hand away from DJ¡¯s wrist, and sure enough, he finds his fingers to be slightly cracked. He looks up from his hand and shoots DJ a glare of contempt.


    ¡°Kind of poetic, huh?¡± DJ says, evading his stare. ¡°I guess one could say you¡¯ve cracked under pressure.¡±


    The others look at DJ and nervously laugh. Ikimono looks on in bewilderment.


    ¡°You know what, though?¡± They continue, ¡°It¡¯s not fair that I hurt you like that, especially without any warning. I¡¯m sorry, Sunshine. Let me get you patched up.¡±


    They pull a golden hoop from their ear and press it between their hands. When they feel the hissing of molten gold between their fingers, they quickly take Sunshine¡¯s cracked hand and hold it over the liquid. He hardly has time to so much as wince before the metal weaves into his bones and mends his wound. When DJ releases his hand, he rips it away in anger before catching the faint glimmer of light in the corner of his eye. He examines his hand.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± DJ asks, ¡°Peony taught me that trick a while ago. We were investigating a manor to try and solve a family curse where all the daughters died young. The curse isn¡¯t important. What matters is I knocked over one of the bone china dolls and had to fix it before their one daughter came back, and I remembered that in Japan, when you break something, you fix it with gold. It¡¯s to make the thing unique, add to its history. Anyway, I figure if bone china can be mended with gold, so can bone.¡±


    Sunshine doesn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°Sorry again about your hand, I should¡¯ve warned you that my skin gets really hot like that.¡±


    Sunshine nods. ¡°Alright then, if that¡¯s done, then let''s get to the show. I don¡¯t think there''s anything left down here you¡¯d want to know.¡±


    As Sunshine takes the lead of the group, DJ falls behind to walk beside Ikimono.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°No, not really,¡± DJ replies, ¡°A little frazzled about Sunshine, though.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for protecting me.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Hey, no problem. You¡¯re my friend, that¡¯s what friends do.¡±


    They continue their walk in silence for a while. When they finally reach the shelved hallways, Ikimono finds a whisper in their throat.


    ¡°Can I tell you a secret?¡± They mutter.


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s afraid of you.¡±


    A little grin cracks in the corners of DJ¡¯s mouth, and a little puff of smoke escapes from their snout. A low laugh rises from their chest. For a moment, Ikimono finds themselves nearly intimidated by them. When DJ pats them on the back, the fear dissolves.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡­


    Ikimono hasn¡¯t left DJ¡¯s side since their exchange in the hallways. In fleeting moments, they worry about being too clingy or annoying, but every time they open their mouth to ask, DJ silently answers with a nod or the wave of their hand. It¡¯s nice to feel so accepted, so wanted.


    Wanted? Ikimono thinks, Maybe.


    The best part of the deal is that Sunshine hasn¡¯t so much as looked at them for hours. He¡¯s looked at DJ, of course, with a glare that would murder anyone, but never at them. DJ¡¯s taking it all like a champ, too. He glares at them, and DJ just nods. If he tries getting up close, DJ pulls Ikimono a little closer under their wing. If he flashes a claw, DJ flashes their teeth. It¡¯s a very effective defense.


    Sunshine¡¯s not the only thing they¡¯ve got to worry about, though. Their innards still ache from the hot metal, now cooled to a slight scald in their stomach. They wonder how Fuego¡¯s hand is holding up, especially after they got dye in the open wound. They really ought to change the dressings now, but if Sunshine caught a glimpse of the hole in vens hand, it¡¯d be worse. They wonder if Sunshine would be less mad if he knew about the armlet. At least that could be played off as an accident.


    ¡°Hey, little buddy?¡±


    They snap up from their idle stare at the chest they¡¯re sitting on top of. That¡¯s right, they¡¯re backstage in the tent. It takes them a minute to notice the puppets in their hands.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± They ask.


    ¡°Just checking in. You spaced out there for a minute.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I do that sometimes too, you know.¡±


    DJ taps their claws against the handle of their sword. They¡¯re leaned against a large box painted to resemble a target. Something about that feels ironic, but Ikimono can¡¯t quite put a finger on it.


    DJ suddenly mutters. ¡°Is he always like that?¡±


    ¡°Who, Sunshine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Is he always like that?¡±


    Ikimono stares at DJ, then takes a couple glances to the left and right. When they return their stare, DJ finds them more perturbed than before.


    ¡°Does the raven who hunts with wolves find meat?¡± They whisper.


    ¡°Ah,¡± DJ nods. ¡°So it finds its prey?¡±


    ¡°However dead or rotten it may be.¡±


    ¡°But perhaps the question is whether or not its beak still hurts when it rends the flesh.¡±


    ¡°It hurts. Badly, it hurts.¡±


    ¡°And the prey cannot escape, can it not?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s doomed to its fate.¡±


    ¡°As Prometheus to the eagles?¡±


    ¡°As Sisyphus to the stone.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but can we imagine Sisyphus happy, at least?¡±


    ¡°No. There is no happiness on a neverending uphill.¡±


    ¡°What binds Sisyphus to his hill?¡±


    ¡°For want of a story, the library burns.¡±


    ¡°For want of a library, the kingdom goes mad?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    DJ flicks their tail in thought. ¡°A kingdom down the rabbit hole, hm?¡±


    ¡°Far past the grasp of time and yet forever trapped at 4 o¡¯clock.¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°No wonder you fear the queen of hearts.¡±


    The two lean back against the boxes. They sit in silence for a long while.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to die here, Ikimono.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I was looking for it?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯m not leaving you behind. There¡¯s something about you that doesn¡¯t lend itself to being leave-behind-able.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    A sudden crash rings out in the tent. DJ jumps from their recline and catches Ikimono as they stumble on the chest.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. Remind me.¡±


    Almost instinctively, DJ tucks Ikimono under their arm and runs over to the source of the clamor. The warmth of DJ¡¯s arm is a comfort against their chest.


    Juniper lies in a heap on the floor, surrounded by ribbons and colorful props. Right beside her are the knocked over remnants of a wooden crate. Tiny weevils crawl out from the maw of the box. The others, and even some of the performers, all gather around her.


    ¡°Juniper?¡± Peony asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Juniper groans, ¡°I was reaching up to grab down a couple hoops and I fell.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Juniper?¡±


    The new voice rises over the air like a cloud on a rainy day. A tall, slender china doll walks over to the circle and kneels down beside Juniper.


    Juniper suddenly blushes pink. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m Juniper.¡±


    The doll holds a hand out to Juniper, her fingers clinking as they bend. ¡°I¡¯m Maryelle. I heard you¡¯ll be my dancing partner.¡±


    Maryelle helps Juniper to her feet. Juniper can¡¯t take her eyes off of her glimmering face.


    ¡°Well,¡± She says, ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you too,¡± Maryelle beams, ¡°Here, let me help you clean up some of this.¡±


    Maryelle leans over and starts picking up some of the ribbons on the ground. Juniper looks on for a moment, her thoughts nearly incoherent.


    ¡°No, no, I made this mess, I¡¯ll clean it,¡± She sputters.


    ¡°Let me help you, dear. You just fell, after all.¡±


    Juniper feels like she¡¯s going to fall again. She gets down on her knees and starts picking up the props alongside Maryelle.


    Maryelle, Maryelle, She thinks, What a sweet name to roll off the tongue.


    In Juniper¡¯s mind, everything about her feels sweet. How easy her face is to the eye, how lovely her blonde yarn hair falls over her shoulder, how bright the blue of her dress is. She had only heard her voice for a moment, and she was already enamored with it. She has fallen, she knows, and it will be terribly long before she rises again.


    The others start to return to their former conversations. DJ, only just now realizing their hold on Ikimono, tries to set them down. Ikimono doesn¡¯t want to be let go. They shrug, then hold them ever so slightly closer.


    ¡°Is she going to be alright?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± DJ grins, ¡°She¡¯s just having a lesbian moment. We¡¯ll pick on her later.¡±


    There is a slight pause. DJ frantically stumbles over their words.


    ¡°Wait, no, not that we¡¯re picking on her for liking girls. We¡¯re picking on her for falling that fast for one. We¡¯re picking on her for simping. She does it a lot.¡±


    ¡°A lot?¡± Ikimono asks, ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Beats me. She just likes girls, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Do you like girls?¡±


    DJ pauses. ¡°Me?¡±


    Ikimono nods.


    ¡°Oh. Not really. Girls are nice, they¡¯re good friends, they¡¯ll kick your ass when you least expect them, but I don¡¯t like-like girls.¡±


    ¡°Boys?¡±


    ¡°Eh. Boys are alright, I guess. I don¡¯t like them much either.¡±


    ¡°Do you like anyone?¡±


    ¡°Well, let me put it like this. If you¡¯re Sisyphus, I¡¯m Prometheus. It might be the same eagles eating my liver, but they don¡¯t remember coming back. Wouldn¡¯t it be stupid of me to love the eagles? Not like I would, but wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    DJ blinks. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The confidence in Ikimono¡¯s finality is startling. They want to protest it, but they know Ikimono wouldn¡¯t understand. Or do they?


    DJ nervously laughs. ¡°Alright, then. Guess I¡¯m finally starting to lose it, huh?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡±


    DJ looks back down in surprise.


    Ikimono, they think, I see the spark of life in your eyes and I just want to ask you, can you hear me? Can you hear me? And if you can, tell me, I¡¯m not crazy, right? I¡¯m not crazy for being stuck here, right? Everything I remember is true, right? I can tell them, can¡¯t it? Everything that¡¯s happened has happened, hasn¡¯t it? Please, Ikimono, tell me.


    The lights in the tent dim. The blue stars in DJ¡¯s eyes and the purple crosses in Ikimono¡¯s cast faint glows around their faces. On the other sides of the tents are the colors of their friends. The air drops to a chill.


    I¡¯m not evil, am I, Ikimono?


    DJ looks back down at Ikimono. They figure it¡¯s no use. Their thoughts die away into calm lucidity once more. Maybe they¡¯re crazy after all. It¡¯s not like anyone can hear them. They¡¯re just thoughts. Thoughts running amuck in a tired mind.


    When DJ looks away down into the hall, the lights start to flicker again. The hazy smell of staleness wafts as a sudden commotion rings from the back of the hall. The green and black curtains almost echo the sound. They put Ikimono down and grab their sword. With heavy steps, they follow the sound like a soldier to war.


    Ikimono doesn¡¯t chase after them like they want to. They still stare off into the distance, watching DJ slowly fade but never disappear. They pick up their puppets off the chest, still keeping their eyes focused on the fire burning on their tail and around their eye. The smell of ash lingers on their cardigan where their arm held around their waist. They wonder if they ought to be afraid of them.


    The others whisper around them. Even with the lit halos of their eyes, it¡¯s hard to tell where anyone is. And with them all about to start heading into the show, it will only be harder.


    Oh, DJ, They think, You¡¯re not evil at all.

 And We Only Are, We Are On Fire

    ¡°Ladies and germs and all other worms, welcome to the grandest illusion in the world!¡±


    The crowd buzzes in fervor at Sunshine¡¯s words. When they begin to die down, Sunshine spreads his arms wide to direct the swarming fireflies to illuminate the stage. When the dim glow of turquoise rounds the circumference of the stage, he lifts the orb of his cane to his mouth to speak once more. The paintings on his cheeks glow with new life, and little tricklings of greenish smoke roll from the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°Prepare your eyes for a dazzling sight, one of magical, mystical fright. From islands afar to the circus of the stars, bringing Prometheus¡¯ gift to our colorful bazaar. Dancing to the stage is our hellfire, DJ! Watch if you will, or will you cower away?¡±


    With a flash of fog, Sunshine disappears from the stage. The haze hovers over the stage for a minute, but slowly fades to black smoke as DJ steps out into the dusty arena. They walk with no small pride in their steps, balancing their mangled sword over their shoulder. They brush away the hair from their eyes before coming to a halt in the center stage. When the fog rolls away, they can finally see the stands around them. With an obsidian grin plastered on their face, they open their arms wide and take a bow. The crowd applauds again.


    With the frenzy of the crowd covering their motions, DJ begins to conjure a song. They begin with the stomp of their foot, blowing ashes from the ground as the thunderous rhythm of some unseen drum rolls out a harsh tempo from still air. They roll the claws of their fingers along a strip of faint orange light, and at once the silence around their head unfurls into a melody. It won¡¯t be hard to keep a song now. As long as they keep moving, the music will come. They click the tips of their claws against the blade of their sword, and it bursts into flame. They raise it above their head, slash it down to the ground, and the infernus song finally begins.


    DJ moves as gently as the boughs of a willow tree, but with the fire swirling around them, they look like they¡¯re the conduit of a grand storm. They let their blade lead their way around the burning sigil forming in the ground, be it from swinging it into the dust, tossing it in the air, or slashing at the licking heat. The creeping tendrils crackle into an odd sort of music befitting a terrible deity, but DJ knows their fear is only for show. Whatever gods of dark demise lie in the boundless stars of Portar, they¡¯re surely not among them.


    When they look out beyond the flames, they find themselves alone in the tent. It¡¯s hard to catch a glance any longer than a split second, especially when they have a sword to manage, but even in the frenzy of the dance, they find themselves alone. Not unwatched, of course, but not watched from ahead. Something is behind them, and getting closer by the second.


    The drums grow offbeat as DJ hurriedly turns around. Far away, on the other side of the stage, Sunshine watches with an unblinking stare. They calm their breath again and return to their performance.


    It still isn¡¯t right. They pick their pace up again, tossing their sword overhead as they conjure flames from their hands, but they can¡¯t keep their focus completely in line. It seems now, knowing Sunshine still stands in the alcove, that their back begins to burn from his stare. They try to focus on the smell of the smoke around them, perhaps to hold onto some fleeting hope they¡¯ll remain unseen, but to no avail. The prickings of a thousand needles stab into their back, into their wings, into their hands.


    They dance as though they¡¯re walking on knives now. Every other step propels them high off of the ground. Their leaps leave behind trails of light in the flame, and with the tip of their blade they cut glyphs in the air. The racing of their heart slowly trickles out into the music. DJ growls in frustration. They¡¯re sure Sunshine doesn¡¯t mean malevolence-- not yet, at least --but it doesn¡¯t matter.


    They shake their head as they finally land back to the ground, and the sudden wave of applause pushes his eyes out of their mind. Oh, if only their friends could watch them right now!


    DJ giggles to themselves. I¡¯m on fire.


    They slide to stage left, leaving a wild mushroom cloud in their trail. They open their arms as they step into a sideward lunge and unfurl their wings for the first time in their show. They stomp once and jut back, then again. The third time, they jump up and take flight. It¡¯s easier to take off when you don¡¯t have the weight of someone else on your back. Or perhaps it¡¯s easier because they¡¯ve had to carry just about everyone at some point. Except for Ikimono, of course. They wonder if they¡¯d like a ride over the circus at some point. Not tonight, though, it¡¯d have to be a night with clear skies so they can show them the stars above.


    Pillars of orange light burst from the ground, and DJ dodges each with incredible agility. It¡¯s not the same as dodging real trees in the forest, but it¡¯ll make do. Again they wish for someone to be out with them, if for no other reason then to warn them of potential crashes. They try to hear Peony¡¯s voice in their mind, shouting from just behind them about swerving left to right. The music behind them is too loud to make it out. They decide when the music dies down a little, they¡¯ll roll into a landing. They swish past one final column of fire, nosedive to the ground, then roll from their shoulder up onto their knees. Now the crowd is really set.


    DJ hoists their blade into the air, then slams it into the ground. When they grab the handle with their other hand, cracks of magma start to grow from the blade. They take three deep breaths, feeling the dust scratch at the inside of their lungs. Then, in one violent movement, DJ throws back their head and lets a grand inferno leap from their mouth. With arms outstretched, the song around them leaps into a frenzied climax. In this stance, they look like a god.


    To Sunshine, a god of the damned.


    He watches from the entrance between the backstage and the performance, his eyes darting between the color dancing in the dust on the floor. At first, he thinks he is afraid of the fire. The long, creeping tendrils of energy looked to beckon him onto the stage. Whispers of voices he once remembered fill the gaps in the air around him, asking questions he almost listens to. The key tied around his throat now feels like a noose in the dry heat. Something in the back of his mind burns with the same intensity as the flames before him. His amygdala, most likely. How could one not be afraid of the destruction before them?


    And DJ? Just dancing through it all, without a care in the world. Ordinarily he¡¯d take no care to the confidence of one¡¯s act, perhaps even praise it, but DJ is different. Something about it seems unnatural. No, unnatural isn¡¯t the right word. They¡¯re too at home in the fire to be unnatural. Excessive is the right word. Perhaps it comes with the mastery of the element, but encountering danger with the grace of a shooting star feels too defiant to be true. DJ isn¡¯t afraid. They can¡¯t be afraid. And the light, energy, the pyre around them, it bows to them as if they are their god.


    To them. Yes, To them! Not to him.


    The yellows and oranges no longer captivate him with the same glorious fear one should see in a firedancer. A firedancer should invoke fear for the dancer, not for the viewer. Now, Sunshine finds the fear to be his own. Fear of the song around him, the hypnotic drums beckoning like outstretched arms of a fearsome warrior. Fear of the ashes left behind, like an empty grave inviting him to death. To DJ, the master of the chaos around them, begging with only a hand and a wave to come surrender to the entropy.


    His bones ache as the heat brushes against his cheeks. He imagines the flames climbing higher, ever higher, reaching up to the rafters in their song. He imagines the suffocating stench of smoke chasing him like a vengeful spirit to the center of DJ¡¯s ashen pit. The fear left inside of him wrenches in his stomach as his marrow burns in terror. The weight of imagined falling debris crushes his shoulders as he finds his own breath faltering. His knees buckle. His eyesight grows hazy. The sounds of DJ¡¯s song fade away. Now, all he can see is DJ. DJ, the beastly king of his only fear.


    He stares into the licking flames. He knows one day they will swallow him whole.


    On the stage, DJ bows. They do not care for the applause. The dance alone is enough to satisfy them. The flames die away into darkness once more, and the sigils on the ground fade into the shadows. DJ looks back and nods at the good work, then turns back to the crowd. They toss their sword over their shoulder, fold in their wings, and walk back to the entryway.


    ¡°So, how was that?¡± DJ asks.


    Sunshine is silent.


    DJ grins. ¡°Speechless? I¡¯m glad.¡±


    DJ walks past Sunshine with a little laugh. Sunshine stands silent for another moment. The paralysis eats away at him like maggots. He knows the stage is empty now, safe from the call of death, but he still can¡¯t force himself to enter it. He looks over his shoulder every now and again, making sure DJ isn¡¯t ready to conjure up their flames again. He wouldn¡¯t put it past them to make a sick joke like that. And they would stand there, right at the mouth of the stage, and they would laugh. He¡¯s sure of it.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    When at last he is sure DJ is gone, he starts to walk back out into the light of the stage. His eyes dart about the ground, and he finds there are no ashes to be found. With every step, he fears the fire reigniting.  He doesn¡¯t think through the next introduction. Who was it for? It doesn¡¯t matter. He can¡¯t stop thinking about the demon backstage. He finishes the intro, bows, then retreats back to his alcove.


    Whatever the next act is, he neither knows nor cares. He stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to find DJ on the neurons. He doesn¡¯t know what he wants to find. Some part of him wants to know how, another part why, and another part what are you to do with it. The thoughts swim around his head, and he finds his eyesight fuzzied by their legions. He taps his fingers nervously atop the cane, trying to pick through the sea of thoughts to find that growling voice.


    Oh? Out there? Yeah, no, It¡¯s really fun.


    The sound of their voice burns in Sunshine¡¯s mind like molten iron. As soon as he catches it, he digs his focus into it.


    Oh, don¡¯t worry about it, Seb. You¡¯ll be fine.


    The thought of them being watched is almost comforting. Sunshine wants to believe it means they won¡¯t do anything destructive.


    Oh yeah, really well! You should¡¯ve seen how big I got those flames to be. I¡¯ll give this place one thing, you¡¯ll have so much more space than what you¡¯ll need. I think maybe for the next show I¡¯ll try something bigger.


    Sunshine¡¯s heartbeat starts to skitter again.


    Burn anything? I¡¯m not gonna burn this place.


    DJ¡¯s tone is humorous. It frightens him more. There is a long pause before they speak again.


    Oh, yeah. Should I tell them or should one of you?


    Sunshine¡¯s eyes shoot open. He leans out to check and see the progress on the other performer. When he worries about them finishing too early, he summons a swarm of wasps to disorient the performer.


    Alright, alright, fine. You know how you get two instances of fire-setting tendencies before you get diagnosed with pyromania?


    Sunshine closes his eyes. He hopes it¡¯ll get him a little closer to the sound.


    Well, it¡¯s true. If you set a couple fires, like, fireplace or hearth kinda things, you¡¯re fine. Completely usual human thing to do. But when you start setting fires for kicks, well, then you start having problems.


    A pause. Sunshine leans in closer to the cane.


    No, no, of course not! Do I look like the kind of person who sets fires for kicks?


    Another pause.


    Oh shut up! It was one arson investigation! One! And the charges didn¡¯t even stick!


    A little sound of laughter rings in DJ¡¯s ears. It¡¯s not theirs, though. It¡¯s Sebastian¡¯s. Why his laughter comes so easily with their thoughts is a mystery to Sunshine.


    Oh, we went out to eat at one of the chain restaurants they¡¯ve got around Portar nowadays, and when Seb and Willbur went out to pay the bill this--oh, I don¡¯t even know, this thing just sat down at the table and started talking to me. Of course, it conveniently was just me at the table. Juniper, Peony, Creo, and Crick went out to look around in the country store they¡¯ve got there, Adderall and Fuego were playing with one of the games they had at another table, and I figured I¡¯d hang back to make sure nobody took our spot for when they brought out dessert. That¡¯s not important. Point is, this thing started talking to me about something, and I panicked.


    The taste of a lie starts to sizzle on Sunshine¡¯s tongue. What the lie is, he doesn¡¯t know. Maybe he¡¯ll ask Ikimono about it later.


    Oh, goodness, no. I got so nervous I sneezed and set half the room on fire.


    Somehow, this fills Sunshine with even more dread than if they had set the fire intentionally. The sudden laughter coming through the neurons doesn¡¯t help much either. He lets DJ¡¯s thoughts out of his grasp and stands there in the dark, utterly blank.


    What did he expect, though? A beast walking on two legs doesn¡¯t make it less of an animal. And animals have no idea how to control themselves. A lion will jump with claws outstretched at the slightest sign of danger. Perhaps a dragon, demon, whatever they are, will do the same. They¡¯ll find themselves backed into whatever imaginary corner they please, and they¡¯ll set everything ablaze.


    The thought almost comforts Sunshine. Yes, he thinks, they are an animal. An animal pretending to be human. The wolf in sheep¡¯s clothing, freshly wandering into the flock. As the shepherd, he thinks, he has to protect his sheep. That¡¯s why they¡¯re all here in the circus. They¡¯re all here because nobody else will want them. It would certainly be a shame if someone took their heaven and ruined it with fire, especially fire so careless as to be let loose in inferno at so much as a nervous sneeze. He has to keep watch over his beloved flock.


    He recalls Ikimono¡¯s last story. The werewolf in sheep¡¯s clothing, as it were. Ikimono has a nasty sort of habit of predicting things. Perhaps his tale was a warning.


    Suddenly, Sunshine remembers the actor out on stage. He hurriedly sticks his head out to the open stage, only to find the body of the performer, stung to death, lying on the ground.


    He rolls his eyes. Oh well. It¡¯s not like one lost performer matters much.


    He strides out onto the stage and addresses the crowd again.


    ¡°Apologies for my little delay,¡± He begins, ¡°But it seems like this one here couldn¡¯t play. But how about two goofballs, the best ones around? Adderall and Fuego, the knife-throwing clowns!¡±


    The crowd applauds, and Sunshine turns to leave. Already, Adderall and Fuego have rushed out to the stage and are setting up their target and knife rack. When Sunshine reaches the back alcove, Adderall has already been strapped to the target, and Fuego is starting to spin her around.


    Fuego opens up vens purple cape, and tens of glimmering knives fall in a heap on the floor. Ve picks one up by the blade with vens bandaged hand. The crowd laughs a little as Fuego finds venself unfazed. With a quick flick of the wrist, ve flings it at Adderall, and the handle sticks itself into the hay bale target, narrowly missing her throat.


    Sunshine turns his gaze away from the two as Fuego roots through the pile of knives. The two will surely keep the audience entertained for a good long while. It¡¯s even hard for him to tear his eyes away from their bright, mismatched outfits.


    He ponders for a moment on how to take care of the DJ problem. He couldn¡¯t just tell them to leave. They don¡¯t seem the type to go without their friends, and probably not without a fight either. A lure out to the forest might work, but just what would lure them away?


    Sunshine looks back out at the stage. Fuego¡¯s cape flutters as ve moves, and the sequins on vens dress are almost blinding from the stage lights. Something¡¯s on vens hand, how had he not noticed it before? He looks closer, ever so slightly leaning out from the alcove into the stage. It¡¯s red, just a little bit, is that blood? Yes, it is blood! Blood on a bandage, as a matter of fact. Fuego must have cut venself on a knife of some kind and patched up vens hand in a haste. Sunshine laughs to himself. If ve was so klutzy to do that on the first show, then perhaps ve didn¡¯t have as much experience as ve would like him to believe.


    Sunshine finds an idea blooming in his mind. If he can curse a knife and get Fuego to cut venself, he can get DJ out. DJ will feel so terribly awful for ven, they¡¯ll have no choice but to leave with ven. Of course, it means losing another actor, but with how troublesome Fuego has made venself be, it won¡¯t be a hard loss.


    ¡°Yes, yes, what a wonderful plan!¡± Sunshine mutters to himself, ¡°I just have to act while I¡¯ve still got the upper hand.¡±


    Sunshine wanders back through the tunnels to the boxes of props. Surely Fuego found vens knives back here before the show began. He beelines towards a blue crate, still left open against the wall, and finds the glow of metal casting light spots on the wall. He picks up a knife not unique enough to describe and slips it in the pocket of his coat. He hesitates before turning around again, half expecting DJ to be right behind him, ready to choke him with a clawed hand. When he turns back, though, there¡¯s no one to be found. He walks back to the alcove.


    Sunshine is half lost in a nightmare when Fuego and Adderall bound past him. Their cheering is already starting to grow annoying. He stumbles back to the curtain and mutters a few rhythmic curses under his breath. When he looks back up again, the two have vanished into the darkness. Up to no good, he wagers.


    He taps the outline of the knife in his pocket. Hopefully, he¡¯ll only need to put up with them for another week, two weeks at most. He knows the plan is meant for DJ more than them, but roping them in it puts him at even more ease. Two birds with one stone, one irritating and another fearsome.


    He looks back out into the darkness and smiles. Yes, perhaps it¡¯s good that he¡¯s going for Fuego. Maybe Adderall will go with ven too. Three of them, gone just like that! He¡¯ll have to put up with Adderall for a little longer, sure, but it will be worth it just to see her agony alongside Fuego¡¯s. Maybe, if she gets too bothersome between now and then, he¡¯ll go after her too. Just a little something to take the edge off the wait. It wouldn¡¯t even take that much to frighten her, no doubt. And if it doesn¡¯t take more than a spider, imagine what seeing her own innards would do to her.


    But that¡¯s a thought for another time. He walks out into the light once more, and turns to the audience with renewed, beaming pride.


    ¡°And now an act of much greater grace, a hypnotizing dance of hoops, rings, and lace. Won¡¯t you please welcome our dancers, Juniper and Maryelle, who¡¯ll capture your mind in the colorful swell?¡±


    The crowd applauds, and Sunshine ducks away once more. He leaves behind a tracing of fireflies. When the lights fade into darkness, they begin to ignite. In the shadows left behind are the silhouettes of Juniper and Maryelle, suspended from the rafters in cradles of silk.

 Close Call

    Juniper had been afraid of Maryelle when the two were backstage. Not afraid in the way one fears a ravenous animal, but afraid in how one fears a mighty king. Maryelle, for all her charm and beauty, radiates the power and intellect of a goddess. Whether that goddess is Artemis or Athena Juniper can¡¯t tell, but it wouldn¡¯t matter. She admires her all the same. She didn¡¯t even feel worthy to utter so much as a yes or no in her presence, but she spoke all the same. Never in objection, though. She would have laid her head on the chopping block if Maryelle had asked. She did come close, though, when Maryelle had asked Juniper to lead.


    ¡°What?¡± She had asked, frightened by the sudden shift of power, ¡°Why me? I just showed up here! If anything, I ought to be learning from you.¡±


    Maryelle¡¯s voice glistened in her ears like spring water. ¡°We can learn from each other. And you just arrived, you know? I know I would have wanted to lead my first show.¡±


    And so it was done. Juniper didn¡¯t protest anymore.


    The two agreed upon a simple routine, just to make sure Juniper would be comfortable in the high silks of the tent. The two would start on separate silks, then slowly switch to the same one, and the finale would involve Juniper catching Maryelle. Again, Juniper did not protest. She did not believe herself able to accomplish such a feat, but it would be useless to make that known.


    The two made their way to the rafters alongside Ikimono. Juniper found herself stunned when Maryelle stopped to talk to them. Maryelle, such a high being, stooping to converse with a corpse? She had hung back away from them in annoyance.


    Juniper can¡¯t tell what it is exactly that she despises about Ikimono. Whatever it is, though, it slowly crawls about and prickles her ribs like urchins when she looks at them. If it is jealousy, it would burn at her feet. If it is annoyance, it would creep up from the tips of her wings and into her neck. No, this is just hatred, pure and bitter. Hatred at this pitiful creature, so spineless they can¡¯t even stand without a hunch.


    When the two finally reached the rafters, they sat comfortably in the cradles of silk from which they will have to hang from. Juniper didn¡¯t talk to her. Maryelle had told her there would be no talking in the rafters, after all, but rather just looked. The fine china of her bare arms glimmers in the dim light. In the silence, her eyelids quietly clink when she blinks. It occurred to Juniper that she didn¡¯t even know what color her eyes were. Perhaps they¡¯re blue like the little leaves painted on her hands and lower arms. Perhaps they¡¯re green like the little emerald studs in her ears. Maybe they¡¯re red like her lips, delicately lined by the crack that separates her jaw from her head. If she got the chance to look, she decided, she would. Of course, so as long as her gold, flaxen hair didn¡¯t get in the way of her face.


    When Sunshine calls for them and drops them into the stage, she decides that this will be her goal.


    The routine starts off as normal, and goes without a hitch. Juniper keeps her focus towards her own patch of silk. She keeps one loop of fabric around her arm, and from the audience, one wouldn¡¯t notice her holding onto anything. She lifts one leg and one arm, gesturing out to darkness, then drawing herself back in to begin her tumbling. She rolls about the fabric like a leaf floating about the breeze, gently swinging the loose silk back and forth with every movement. She stretches and splits midair, still managing to hold herself perfectly steady with only one arm. She continues her bout of carefulness for a moment, but when she notices Maryelle start to grow in energy, she decides to match her partner.


    She starts to swing ever slightly more furiously, carefully beating her wings to propel her back and forth. She slowly lets go of her one arm grip and falls from her seat on the silk, catching herself just under her arms by her shoulders. Keeping her legs straightened doesn¡¯t even come across as a thought to her. By now, it is just as much of an instinct as it is to walk or sleep. She continues to swing, and slowly the silk behind her starts to flow down from the rafters, lowering her in preparation for Maryelle¡¯s reception. For the first time in this performance, she opens her eyes.


    When Juniper looks out, she doesn¡¯t feel the warm glow of eyes watching her. The gaze of the audience¡¯s stands is cold, lifeless. It doesn¡¯t disturb or frighten, but it leaves a rather cold sheen on her fur. She stares out into the abyss ahead of her, trying to find a set of eyes to lock on to. Despite the ocean of eyes staring back at her, she can¡¯t find a single point of focus. The harder she strains her eyes, the harder it is for her to maintain her grip on the silk. She squints harder and harder. The eyes get blurrier. She squints harder.


    Suddenly, she slips from the silk. Maryelle loses her grip on Juniper and starts to plummet to the ground. In a sharp moment of lucidity, Juniper wraps herself in a loose thread and rolls herself down to Maryelle. She grabs her by the wrist, and to her relief, Maryelle grabs back. The silk is a python around her waist, but she doesn¡¯t care. Maryelle is safe.


    The two swing back and forth, slowly climbing their way back up the silk. A slow wave of applause quickly takes over the stage as they make their way back up to the rafters. Juniper¡¯s shock at her own negligence only hits her when her feet are on solid ground. Before she can even open her mouth to apologize, though, she finds herself in Maryelle¡¯s arms.


    ¡°That was amazing,¡± She whispers, ¡°You really had them on the edge of their seats out there. I wouldn¡¯t think you could catch me like that at first glance.¡±


    Juniper¡¯s ears and tail perk up in tandem. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course!¡± She grins, ¡°How long have you been dancing?¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Juniper stutters, ¡°Since I was 6 or so.¡±


    ¡°No wonder, then. You¡¯re really something, Juniper.¡±


    Her heart flutters in her chest. ¡°Gee, thanks. I couldn¡¯t have done it without you, though.¡±


    Maryelle smiles. ¡°If you want, we can sit up here and watch the rest of the show. Sunshine won¡¯t mind.¡±


    Juniper laughs. ¡°I think I''d rather be on solid ground for a while.¡±


    And with that, the two beeline for the ladder down.


    ¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m getting nauseous, Peony. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be able to come on with you.¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    Peony halts her pacing and starts over towards Sebastian. She hops up on the crate next to the one he¡¯s doubled over on and sits down. A wave of comfort washes over Sebastian as he hears the creak of the wood.


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that, Seb,¡± She mutters, ¡°You¡¯ll be alright. You¡¯re just nervous, that''s all.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± he groans.


    ¡°What do you think¡¯s got you nervous? I¡¯m sure we can work it out.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯m worried about the song.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s the easy part. You¡¯re good at coming up with rhymes and such on the fly. Worst case, you can fall back on something you like listening to. What are the odds that someone out there listens to Miracle Musical too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll mess up a lyric or something.¡±


    ¡°So? Just pause for a minute and start up again. You¡¯ll be the only person who¡¯ll know something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°My base assumption with you is that you know what you¡¯re doing. You¡¯ve never given me a reason to doubt that.¡±


    Sebastian turns away from her for a moment. It¡¯s dark, but he still aims to hide the pink on his face.


    ¡°But my voice,¡± Sebastian continues, ¡°They¡¯ll hear it and hate it.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? You think people who¡¯ve tasted grapes think they¡¯re sour?¡±


    ¡°They will, though. They¡¯ll find something and tease me for it.¡±


    Peony notices the muffling of his coat sleeve in his voice. She reaches down with her void arm and runs her fingers through his hair.


    ¡°They won¡¯t tease you, Seb. If they do, I¡¯ll hunt them down for you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll boo you off stage because I¡¯m there with you.¡±


    ¡°Let them. If they don¡¯t want me there because of you, then that¡¯s on them. I¡¯ll leave with you.¡±


    Sebastian stays quiet for a minute or two. Peony knows better than to trust his calmness.


    ¡°You¡¯re just afraid of being watched, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He gives a little nervous laugh. ¡°You see right through me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re alright. But I guess it¡¯d just be easier if I were invisible.¡±


    ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t. How would I be able to see where you are? I don¡¯t want to trip on you or anything.¡±


    ¡°Visible of you, of course. I mean invisible to everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Invisible to everyone else?¡± She murmurs.


    Peony looks down at her free hand. She conjures a little bit of light and rolls it between her fingers. She knows a spell that might help him. There¡¯s only one problem with it, and that¡¯s that it only blocks the sight of one. He¡¯ll still be seen, but he won¡¯t be able to see anyone else. Nobody other than her, anyway. As much as she doesn¡¯t want to lie to him, she wonders if she has any other choice.


    She fiddles with the blue light, sneaking little glances at Sebastian. She supposes if it helps, it will be worth it.


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± she begins.


    Sebastian perks his head up. ¡°What?¡±


    Peony stretches out her tentacles behind her. ¡°I know a spell that will make you invisible to everyone except for me. There¡¯s just one catch-¡±


    ¡°Do it, please.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s one little thing you ought to know.¡±


    ¡°That is?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to see anything other than me.¡±


    The thought looms between the two like mist in the air of a mountain. He looks at her, then out at the light in the hall.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± he replies, ¡°Do it.¡±


    Peony nods. She turns to sit up on her knees, and she sits her hands down atop her legs. A little shimmer of purple haze washes out from her tentacles, dripping from the tips into little puddles on the ground. Sebastian looks on in wonder as she focuses her spell. She closes her eyes, and at once the light grows brighter. Sebastian leans forward as though on instinct. With one small, fluid motion, she unfurls her tentacles and drapes them against his back, pulling him closer to her. She picks her hands up from her knees, and he finds her palms teeming with light. She puts them against his cheeks and gently caresses his face.


    At once, a gentle, inky darkness washes over Sebastian¡¯s sight. With every blink of his eyes, the silhouettes of the boxes, candles, and people fade away into the blackness until only the vivid colors of Peony remain. The nothingness frightens him for a moment, but when he remembers the feeling of the crate against his stomach, he takes a deep breath in relief.


    Peony doesn¡¯t let go of him. He isn¡¯t entirely sure if she¡¯s still working her magic, but he doesn¡¯t mind. Her oozing tentacles are a cool weight on his back, and her hands are warm on his face. He wishes he could have moved up to sit beside her on the crate so he could be closer to her than he is now. With great hesitation he lifts his arms up and rests his hands atop her arms in something not quite resembling a hug but with all the good intentions of one. When the velvet of her dress brushes against the top of his fingers, he slowly slides his hands out from his coat sleeves. He wishes he were brave enough to embrace her, but he knows now isn¡¯t the time.


    Slowly, Peony opens her eyes. She slips her hands away from his face and her tentacles away from his back. With nothing else to look at, he finds himself staring deep into her eyes. He could go colorblind, but as long as he could still see the steelish blue of her eyes, he¡¯d know peace.


    ¡°My goodness,¡± she whispers, ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±


    I¡¯ve seen a goddess, he thinks to himself.


    ¡°I do?¡± He asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m teasing, don¡¯t worry,¡± she replies. ¡°Well, sort of, anyway. You¡¯re a little pink, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Sebastian quickly pulls his hands back into his sleeves. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just from nerves.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be nervous. It¡¯s just you and me, alright?¡±


    The words sink into him like quicksand. Oh Peony, he thinks, It could only be you and I left in Portar and I¡¯d be alright.


    His thoughts cloud and muddle until he finds himself in a frenzy of longing. With nothing but her to see, how can he pull himself away? The joy crushes his chest.


    ¡°Now, take my hand. It¡¯s a bit crowded back here, and I don¡¯t want you to hurt yourself.¡±


    Sebastian reaches out for her hand and holds firm as she starts to lead him through the maze of the backstage. He wishes she could lead him along like this forever.


    The two come to a stop at what Sebastian assumes is the opening to the stage. The air doesn¡¯t change, nor does the sound or scent. He supposes, perhaps, in this haze it is only himself and Peony. Not that he minds. The greatest peace in the world is by her side.


    Sebastian can¡¯t hear it, but Sunshine begins to make his call. Now, Peony knows it¡¯s her turn to take the lead.

 Deer in the Chase

    ¡°From graveyards afar comes our underworld¡¯s queen. Right at her side, her king, so musically keen. With his song and her magic, what wonders they¡¯ll do! You¡¯ll never be the same after they¡¯re through.¡±


    Peony leads Sebastian to the stage and stops him short of a little mahogany table with the doll of the lamb sat atop it. She dances to the front of the table and turns to address the audience, who slowly cease their applause.


    ¡°Thank you, good patrons!¡± She begins, ¡°Now, before me here lies the body of a lamb. By my powers and the song of my partner, we shall bring it back to life!¡±


    A ripple of oohs spreads across the stands. Peony turns back to Sebastian and nods. Even though his thoughts are still in a haze, he starts to sing.


    All that¡¯s between us now is time


    Not mountains wide or ocean¡¯s divide


    I¡¯d come running home to you if I could


    But I¡¯m afraid my legs won¡¯t work like they should


    Peony looks up from the doll and back at Sebastian. His song is a little odd for a necromancy show, but the pink glow falling from the air makes for a rather sweet ambiance. She stares off into the air for a minute, then drags herself back down to the table set again.


    She rubs her hands together and mutters under her breath. It isn¡¯t exactly necessary for her to speak, but she worries she¡¯ll lose focus listening to Sebastian. Her tentacles reach up behind her far into the air, drawing in tufts of purple haze from the shadows of the tent. The more smoke she draws through her tentacles, the more spills from her hands onto the table. Eventually, the entire surface is covered with billowing smoke. The golden rings on her void hands freeze on her fingers as she slowly casts her spell.


    When summer comes ¡®round, I swear it¡¯s true!


    I¡¯ll come bounding home to you


    On my life, we¡¯ll make our peace


    No one here but you and me


    She only needs to slip from her focus for a second to find it hard to return to her work. She knows she needs to animate the lamb before her, but her mind only wants to imagine their home. She glares at the toy, but her sight fills with visages of green grass on star lit hills in the warm evenings of June or July. She takes a deep breath of the icy smoke, but it smells like mint leaves and overripe berries. She tries to focus on the cold metal on her hands. For a minute, it works. Suddenly, though, she¡¯s overcome by the thought of Sebastian slipping his hand into hers.


    She grips the table like a vice. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving splinters in her fingertips. She shoots a ravenous glare at Sebastian, then at the audience, and neither of them appear to notice. The fog around her wrists begins to cool into a deep hue of blue, and little buds of water cloud around the lamb¡¯s button eyes.


    She takes a deep breath, then another. She knows if she isn¡¯t careful, someone will notice. Little tendrils of waxy sinews creep from the lamb¡¯s neck to her fingers, and she slowly takes hold of them. With a slight tug on the strings, the lamb jerks to and fro on the center of the table. As the sinews grow thicker and thicker in her hands, something almost like life begins to seep into the doll. When the sinews start to throb, the lamb stands on all fours, slowly rising to its back legs. Peony quickly blows the smoke from the table, and swarms of fireflies descend to the scene to light up the animated toy.


    Wait for me, my honey! All the things I¡¯ll say


    When we¡¯ve no eyes to watch or ears to hear our play


    Pull me closer, little voice in my head


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    When all is gone, at least you¡¯ll understand


    Peony almost falls to the ground from her slip in focus. She shoots back in some unsightly movement, then rises again to stand. The sinews constrict around her fingers, and now find themselves wriggling around under her fingertips where the splinters made themselves at home. In a panic, she grabs at her arms, rushing to find where the waxy threads have dug themselves in. The strings connecting to the lamb have already grown pink, but if she cuts them loose now, she¡¯ll only lose more blood. That, and the sinews will only fester around inside her.


    She looks at Sebastian, and then back at the doll. It would be painful, but she can¡¯t think of anything else to do. Fuego can heal her later. With a sudden haste, she digs her fingers into her opposite arms and tears away her flesh, prodding away at her muscle tissue to find where the sinews end. Exposed to the open air, they writhe about her arms like worms in the sand. As soon as she sees the pale roots, she grabs them and yanks them out of her body. The force alone severs them from the lamb, but not before sending it flying up into the air. The fireflies, not wanting to miss a good show, dash upwards to capture it in their light. Peony, meanwhile, casts the mass of parasites to the dusty ground and shoots them with a sort of violet flame from her tentacles. When the smoke clears, they have turned to dust.


    When summer comes ¡®round, I swear it¡¯s true!


    I¡¯ll come right home to you


    I¡¯m one cloudless day away


    I¡¯ll come right home to you


    As Sebastian finishes his song, a new visage of flowers casts itself in the light. Petals of glistening pinks and blues dance in the air as the fireflies hoist the restless lamb into the light. A gust of warm wind cuts through the stale air, carrying with it the sweet smell of roses and lavender. The crowd goes insane.


    Peony quickly grabs Sebastian by the arm and guides him towards the alcove. She knows she''ll have to keep her bad arm out of his sight, even if it hurts. Anything to not worry Sebastian. She holds it behind her back with the grace of a courtesan, and decides to simply use a tentacle in place of an arm for a while. The warmth of her blood tickles against her back, and pangs of ache shoot up to her shoulder. Still, she manages to keep an even face. It isn''t the worst pain she''s felt. It''s not pleasant, mind you, but it''s certainly not the worst. Really, her concern is with Sebastian taking notice of it. The only downside to a spell wherein the affected can only see the effector is that there¡¯s nothing the effector can hide.


    Sebastian, despite the incapacitation of his own infatuation, knows something is off about Peony. Something about the haste in her step, the sudden fear in her eyes, the tightness of her grip, everything feels dangerous. The slow anxiety of something perhaps hunting after her starts to fill the darkness that surrounds him. Even though he knows not of what is around him, he decides to quicken his pace to get Peony to safety. Peony, feeling Sebastian¡¯s acceleration, in turn hastens even more, and soon the two are running in an outright panic to the backstage. If it weren¡¯t for the worry of being too loud backstage, the two would have turned to each other and shouted, why must you run, my love?


    Suddenly, Peony stops. Sebastian stops too, wondering if perhaps they outran the imagined pursuer. Peony lets go of his hand and stands before him, out of breath from the chase. She holds her arm so he cannot see the wound.


    ¡°Sebastian, stay here,¡± she says, wincing from the pain, ¡°I¡¯m going to find Fuego.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°I need help with something.¡±


    ¡°Can I not help you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Then can I try?¡±


    Peony looks down at her arm, then back at Sebastian.


    ¡°I mean,¡± she begins, already regretting opening her mouth, ¡°Sure, I suppose.¡±


    She looks away from him in shame as she extends her wounded arm to him. Sebastian looks on in shock.


    ¡°Just promise you won¡¯t blame yourself for this,¡± she calmly commands, ¡°You had nothing to do with it.¡±


    Sebastian flushes pale at the sight of her torn muscles. His hands quake at the wrists, and yet he can¡¯t seem to move them in any other way.


    He stutters. ¡°I¡¯ll go find Fuego or some bandages or something. You stay here.¡±


    ¡°Sebastian, you can¡¯t see!¡± She scolds, ¡°Nobody can see you! You¡¯re gonna get hurt.¡±


    ¡°Not as badly as you!¡± he retorts, ¡°Let me help you.¡±


    He opens up his wings and at once a green flash sparks open the eyes that mark his wings. In his eyes he finds the outlines of things¨C where the walls meet the ground, where the crates stand near the walls, where the other people sit atop the crates ¨Cwhich is just enough to get by.


    ¡°I can see just enough now,¡± Sebastian says, ¡°I¡¯m going to help you.¡±

 The Fox and the Turkey (Animal? Cannibal)

    Ikimono takes their stand over the abyssal plunge of the stage. The height would be tolerable if they weren¡¯t already worried about something else. See, fear is an easy thing to conquer, so as long as you can conquer it one at a time. Alexander the Great took his great empire one village at a time, and Ikimono thought they ought to conquer their fears the same. But when one set their sights on too many riches, they were bound to lose their grip on what they already earned. Worrying about six other people makes it very easy for a seventh fear of heights to slip into their mind, and so Ikimono stands a little farther back tonight.


    It¡¯s so odd to them how they managed to slip into such a dismal state so quickly. Perhaps it always happened with newcomers, no matter how alike the fate. Perhaps, Ikimono thinks, this is but a loop of time wheeling around again and again with which they had no memory of each revolution. A perfect circle, perfectly mirrored and round, with them as the axle around which it revolves. Or are they the wagon, the only one able to watch parts of the wheel reveal itself with no sight of the whole? Could they even be the driver of the cart, only conscious of the wheel when it breaks? Maybe they are even the horses that pull it.


    Ikimono finds themself whispering. With their thumb, they trace a little circle on the palm of their other hand.


    ¡°Manmaru, manmaru¡­¡±


    Time is easiest when one thinks of it in circles, they decide. It is equal, but unlike a square, the sides do not abruptly cut into each other. Unlike a triangle, it is roomy, and unlike a trapezoid one can stretch and compress it without warping the structure beyond recognition. It is as efficient as a hexagon, but it needn¡¯t be stacked like one. You can only have one time at a time, after all. Triangles and squares often meant one had to be building something with their shapes, but circles? Nobody builds with circles, and why would they? Nothing fits atop a circle without sliding off or pushing the sides flat. In a way, they think, time is the same. You can¡¯t do anything to it without restricting it, making it less of time and more of not-time. It might still look like time, sure, but it wouldn¡¯t be time.


    They shake their head as if snapping themself from a trance. Of all the things to be thinking about right now, this feels like the least productive. They pick up the metal beam that hangs their puppets and pulls at a helpless string. Something deep inside of them burns with the knowledge that they and the puppet are alike, but the lingering heat of the brass makes for a wonderful distraction.


    With slight trepidation, they lean over the rafters to look down at the stage. Sunshine should have called them by now, and he isn¡¯t usually one to delay the proceedings. The show must go on is less of an aphorism and more of a law to him. He could be dead with his skull fractured into a million pieces and he¡¯d still be chugging along with his fireflies at his feet. In an odd sort of way, they envy him for that. Surely a creature such as them could conquer their misery if they wanted to badly enough. Then again, maybe Sunshine is a creature that lacks anything to be miserable about.


    Ikimono grows tired of waiting for Sunshine¡¯s command. If there¡¯s nobody on the floor to perform, surely they don¡¯t have to wait around with their thoughts to keep them company. With a sudden click, they flick their piano to life and begin to play. The puppets bounce down into the scene, and as soon as Ikimono knows they have taken their place, they begin to belt out their tale.


    ¡°Far off in the mountains, a turkey found himself wounded from a chance encounter with a weasel.¡±


    Ikimono idly looks over to the bar over the stage. Generally, what the puppets are doing remains a mystery to them. They imagine the stuffed bird hopping along the path in the woods, but whether or not the toy is moving at all is their guess. They prefer to believe the bird is moving.


    ¡°He ran amuck in the forest, clutching at his broken wing and shouting.


    ¡°¡®Help me! Goodness, help me!¡¯ He cried, ¡®My poor wing has been injured, and I¡¯m in terrible pain!¡¯


    ¡°He ran about the forest, trying to find anyone who would help.¡±


    Down in the stage below, the bird is indeed bouncing with fervor around the forest scene.


    ¡°He ran for hours trying to find someone who would help him. When at last-¡±


    Ikimono flourishes on a few higher keys. He imagines the next puppet cloaked in shadows, slowly illuminating from a light from the trees as the turkey cautiously approaches closer.


    ¡°--He chance encountered a fox.¡±


    ¡­


    Sebastian stands motionless in the void. All around him, the outlines of the objects remain unchanged as they were before. Glitches of light blink in and out where the outlines of people ought to be. Every sound around him is muffled as though his head is submerged underwater. All, of course, except for the distinct beckoning to his side.


    For a split second, he whipped around to see the source of the sound. Perhaps it was merely from his own mind, or even a byproduct of the haze around him. Whatever it was, though, it wasn¡¯t Peony¡¯s voice calling him.


    ¡°Sebastian.¡±


    He turns to his other side. The repetition only confirms his fearful suspicion that he¡¯s been seen. Not that he cares much that the spell is waning now.


    ¡°That I am,¡± he mutters, ¡°Can you see me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can,¡± The voice continues, ¡°I see everything in this circus of mine. There¡¯s nowhere to hide that I cannot find.¡±


    Sebastian breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The spell isn¡¯t waning after all. Sebastian turns to the source of the voice and finds Sunshine, clearly visible in the darkness, standing much too close to his side.


    ¡°Oh, good, I¡¯ve been looking for you,¡± Sebastian smiles, ¡°If that¡¯s alright with you, of course.¡±


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s the matter, do tell me what¡¯s wrong. Take up your arms and I¡¯ll help you along.¡±


    ¡°Peony got hurt on the stage. Her arm¡¯s bleeding real bad.¡±


    The mention of blood throws Sunshine in a frenzy. Of course, he dares not to show it to Sebastian, but the thoughts ravage his mind like hungry sharks.


    ¡°Bleeding, you say? And on the first show? My, what a terrible thing to go!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Do you have any bandages or anything? I know how to patch her arm up, but I don¡¯t have anything on me to do it right now.¡±


    ¡°You know magic, do you? You should heal her yourself if that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the best with healing spells. I can¡¯t get my mind off of blood when I see it.¡±


    ¡°I know the feeling and it¡¯s rather a bother. I¡¯ll follow you back if it¡¯ll keep you from pother.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Sunshine, she¡¯s right over here.¡±


    ¡­


    ¡°The fox looked at the turkey¡¯s arm and thought of a cunning plan,¡± Ikimono continues, ¡°After all, what easier a meal could one get than a wounded, defenseless turkey?¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Ikimono imagines the fox walking circles around the turkey, grinning with sharp teeth that gleam in the scarce light. The orange or the fox¡¯s fur almost make it blend into the fallen leaves atop the forest floor.


    ¡°¡®I will help you,¡¯ said the fox, ¡®come, come! You shall be safe in my den. Nothing will find you there. I live in a little cavern down by the river. You can¡¯t see the entrance from the bank. Come, sir turkey, before someone smells your woe!¡¯


    ¡°The turkey thanked the fox graciously before following him to the den.¡±


    As they imagine the fox and the turkey walking along the forest, the familiar taste of blood whirls around Ikimono¡¯s mouth like a distant memory. Sometimes they wonder if meat and metal taste the same.


    ¡°At last,¡± They add, now certain the scene has changed to the outside of the fox¡¯s cave, ¡°They arrived at the den of the fox. The turkey thanked the fox again for his charity, and the fox again assured the turkey he was no burden on himself. Then, with not a moment¡¯s hesitation, the turkey leapt into the den.¡±


    ¡­


    When Sebastian returns to Peony, he finds her shrunken down in a corner, clutching her arm like a wounded animal. The channels of redness drip from her flesh to the ground below. A light scent of panic fills the air. Sebastian can¡¯t bear to look at her wound. Even though he knows he can¡¯t hurt her, he still worries that thinking too hard about her own misery will put her in even more of it. That¡¯s what must be so hard about healing: once you start thinking of the other person, you can¡¯t help them anymore.


    He covers his eyes and tries to imagine fields upon fields of flowers. ¡°Peony? I got bandages for you.¡±


    Peony shifts herself around and looks mournfully at Sebastian. She notices his eyes are covered, but she doesn¡¯t mind. She knows he doesn¡¯t much enjoy the sight of blood. Then, her eyes slowly roll onto the visage of the beast standing behind him.


    Again, the decaying monster of blood and moss looms over Sebastian like a nightmare waiting to pounce. The claws of his upper hand drape over Sebastian¡¯s shoulder like beads on a string. Eyes illuminate the darkness around him, and she finds hordes of tiny maggots crawling around his suit and burying into what little remains of his flesh. Something around his throat gleams silver in the light, but she cannot make out what it is.


    He stretches out a lower arm to her with a sound that she first thinks to be a drip or a tear. When he opens his hand, the foul stench of rotten wood unfurls into her face. The bandages are clean, but with as musty as his hand is, they might as well be rotten too.


    ¡°A bandage to close your little wound,¡± Sunshine says, his oily tongue clicking against his yellowed teeth, ¡°I can help you dress it if you want me too.¡±


    Peony jerks back against the cloth wall, her heart pounding against her chest. She digs her fingers into the tent, hoping to rip open a hole for her to escape from. When she cannot dig her nails through the heavy fabric, she imagines herself with the teeth of a lion ready to rend meat from bone.


    Sunshine walks past Sebastian and reaches out for her again. The stench is overwhelming. Only one coherent sentence is able to crawl across her mind before dashing into the crevices of her brain.


    If he touches me, he burns.


    At once, Sunshine reaches for her wounded arm and takes it in his needle-sharp hands. For a moment, he remains lucid, but when the blood from her wound rolls over his finger, he recoils in shock. A little hiss rises from his hand, but the bone doesn¡¯t corrode from the liquid. Peony draws her arm away from him and holds it close to her chest.


    With her fear to guide her away from her pain, she imagines her arm having never been wounded. She traces her fingers along where her veins and arteries ought to connect, picturing blood running uninterrupted between her hand and elbow. She thinks of her skin and the muscle within it, strong and soft as it ought to be, resting on her arm as it ought to be. Her arm, unhurt, is all she thinks about. With the exception of the small pangs of pain and a slight touch of blood, Peony believes that when she opens her eyes, her arm will be healed. She imagines a pouring of green light from her heart over her arm, repairing the flesh around her bone.


    When she opens her eyes, the pain doesn¡¯t return. On her arm is just a small cut oozing little beads of red. She looks up at Sebastian and smiles.


    ¡°Oh, you didn¡¯t have to get Mr. Sunshine to come look at me,¡± she says with a somewhat forced smile. ¡°Look! It¡¯s just a little cut.¡±


    Sebastian uncovers his eyes. When he looks over, he finds Sunshine with a nastily bloodied hand, but Peony with only a minor wound.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Sebastian says. Then, he starts to laugh a little. ¡°For a minute there, I thought your whole arm had been ripped apart.¡±


    ¡°Look at you, getting all worked up again,¡± She replies, ¡°You worry about me too much. Get me a bandaid, would you please?¡±


    Sebastian reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little pink bandage with a cartoon cat on it. He unsticks the paper from its backing and sticks it over her arm.


    ¡°There you go,¡± he says, ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Much better.¡±


    Sunshine stands in utter bewilderment. He looks down at his hand, which is utterly covered in sticky gore, then back at the two friends kneeling down on the ground.


    ¡°But,¡± he stutters, ¡°But her arm was ripped open! I saw it myself! If it wasn¡¯t that bad, why did you ask for my help?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re on about,¡± Peony says, ¡°And don¡¯t just say that to him, he¡¯s squeamish!¡±


    ¡°Peony, it¡¯s fine-¡±


    ¡°Blood¡¯s blood to him, leave him alone!¡±


    Sunshine shoots a threatening glare at Peony, then sulks away again into the shadows.


    When at last he is out of their sight, he looks down at his blood covered hand and smiles. Even if he¡¯s lost in her eyes, he¡¯s won by walking away with her blood. He raises his hand to his mouth and licks the ooze from his finger. The warm, metallic taste floods his tongue and tugs his cheeks into a smile. He slowly licks the blood from the rest of his hand, savoring every drop. Her life, to him, is sweeter than the finest of honey.


    He finishes the blood with the greatest longing in his mind for more. His thoughts are almost manic now, but no predator can resist themselves amid the stench of death. He doesn¡¯t care what he must do to have the heavenly sweetness in his mouth once more, the burning hunger within him has to be satisfied. He would-- no, he must --maim her, kill her, bleed her dry in the name of thirst. A thirst like this may never be quenched, but no matter the risk, all he wants to do is try.


    He stands by the edge of the hallway to the alcove, trying to calm his thoughts once more. He assures himself he will have her blood, but only if he keeps his wits about him.


    ¡­


    ¡°¡®My my,¡¯ the turkey said, ¡®Your house is terribly dark!¡¯


    ¡®All to keep you safe, my friend Turkey.¡¯


    ¡®It is terribly tight, Fox!¡¯


    ¡®So I may keep you by my side, Turkey.¡¯


    ¡®Nobody will find us here?¡¯¡±


    Ikimono braces for the tightening of the noose. Of all the evenings to be hung by the neck, now is not the evening to be doing it.


    ¡°¡®Nobody,¡¯ said the fox, ¡®Nobody except for me!¡¯¡±


    Ikimono rips their hands across the keyboard as he imagines the fox pouncing upon the turkey. They bang upon the keys, and from the corner of his eye they notice the strings of the puppets thrashing violently upon the bar. Suddenly, the noose begins to tug at their throat, and they find themselves being dragged away from their keyboard. They try to plant their feet firmly on the creaking planks, but the noose only digs deeper and deeper into their throat. They try to pull themselves forward, but a sharp and terrible sensation shoots its way down their chest. Now, for the first time, the wire has caught their windpipe.


    They frantically dig around their neck, desperately coughing to try and loosen the wire. They stumble backwards and hit their back against the support of the tent, then tumble to the floor on their stomach. The beams below creak and bow under their weight, and a splatter of rotten red smacks against the wood. Ikimono gasps for breath, but before they can get any amount of air in, the floor gives in below them.


    In true showman¡¯s fashion, they dangle in the stage with a grin as though nothing is wrong. They know they haven¡¯t the air in their lungs to give their curtain call, but they don¡¯t have much of a choice in the matter. They give a loud cough, then shout to the crowd below.


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect charity from the wicked!¡±


    Luckily for them, the noose pulls them back into the rafters. With a sharp tug, Ikimono rips the cord from their throat and coughs again. They clutch at their throat and try to breathe, but even now the air escapes them. When they finally catch even an enth of a breath, a sudden pain of nausea overwhelms them. They try to breathe again, but something catches in the pit of their esophagus. Weakly, they try to scamper to the edge of the platform, but they only make it part way before they begin to heave. They can¡¯t throw anything up, but dribbles of bile, blood, and spit leak from the corners of their mouth and collect into spatters on the floor. Their mind is focused on their lungs, but their body is more concerned with its stomach.


    At last, Ikimono can dry heave no longer. They roll on the floor beside the small puddle of ooze in a hypoxic haze. Their arms twitch and their eyes lull partly shut, but aside from that they cannot move. By the little rattle at the back of their throat, they are indeed breathing, but not enough to wake them from their sorry state. The bile burns in their mouth and nose, but apart from that and the hardwood below them, they feel nothing else. If they didn¡¯t know better, they¡¯d worry they¡¯d die there.


    Welcoming whatever death or life awaits on the other side of time, they close their eyes and slip from consciousness.

 A Liars Gambit

    ¡°Should we try waking them up?¡±


    Fuego kneels down alongside their head, and Adderall takes her place beside ven. The acrid stench of sickness swirls around their heads, and the bitter smell of rotting wood takes hold beneath their legs. Ikimono, king of the decay, lies motionless by a drying puddle of pale green.


    ¡°They¡¯re not asleep,¡± Fuego replies.


    ¡°I know that, I just mean at least, like, getting them to start breathing before they start growing mold.¡±


    Fuego brushes a lock of their hair away from their cheek and finds earthy black dots peppering their face. ¡°I think we¡¯re a bit late for that.¡±


    Adderall¡¯s eyes glow in wonder. ¡°Really? Can I see?¡±


    She slides over to Fuego and leans in to examine Ikimono. She reaches out a hand, but when ve gives her a look of disapproval, she draws it back.


    ¡°What do you think it is?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Just a bit of black mold,¡± ve shrugs. ¡°Probably nothing more.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t black mold just something you find in walls?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know how they¡¯d end up with it growing on them like this. Unless this isn¡¯t, but you don¡¯t see growths like this with anything else.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it was grafted on?¡±


    A deep put opens in Fuego¡¯s stomach. ¡°Grafted? Adderall, who¡¯d do that?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. Maybe why would be the better question.¡±


    Fuego thumbs at the spots on their face. ¡°They¡¯re in there tight.¡±


    Adderall nods. ¡°Grafted.¡±


    ¡°Adderall.¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯m just saying black mold doesn¡¯t grow on people.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna check what this is. Maybe it¡¯s not black mold.¡±


    Purple haze floats from the palms of vens hands, rippling through the bandages and flowing over to the splotches of black. Spores float into the mist, and at once the sinking feeling plummets deeper and deeper into vens gut.


    ¡°It¡¯s black mold. It has to be. But I don¡¯t want to think about someone grafting that colony on Ikimono.¡±


    Adderall picks up Ikimono¡¯s hand. ¡°It¡¯s on their hands, too.¡±


    Fuego grimaces. Ve doesn¡¯t want to take vens eyes away from Ikimono¡¯s face.


    Ikimono¡¯s sleeve falls down off their wrist. In the dim light, Adderall makes out a faint pattern on their skin. Carefully, she pulls back their cardigan sleeve.


    ¡°Oh, goodness,¡± she mutters.


    ¡°Adderall?¡±


    ¡°Fuego, this isn¡¯t flesh. It¡¯s fabric.¡±


    Ve hesitantly turns their head away from the first patch of mold to look at their arm. Amidst the green of their flesh and the black of the mold is a patch of red adorned with white paisleys, neatly stitched into their arm with stained thread.


    Adderall lays Ikimono¡¯s arm in Fuego¡¯s. The pit in vens stomach slowly turns into an ache in vens heart. Ve traces vens fingers over the stitchings where fabric meets skin, wondering if the graft ever hurt them. Little sparks of green glimmer from vens fingers, but ve is slow to direct them. When ve finally starts outlining the stitches with them, vens hands shake.


    ¡°Who would do this?¡± Fuego whispers, ¡°I don¡¯t know Ikimono too well, but I¡¯d think you¡¯d have to do something really bad to earn something like this.¡±


    ¡°I still wonder why,¡± Adderall replies, reaching into her bag. ¡°You want some lavender?¡±


    Fuego nods. Adderall takes a jar of violet oil from her bag and dots a little on vens wrist. Ve rubs vens wrists together and holds one to vens face.


    ¡°Maybe this has something to do with that room we were in down in Sunshine¡¯s domain,¡± she continues. ¡°You know, the one with all the sewing stuff and the table?¡±


    Fuego looks back down at Ikimono. ¡°I refuse to believe someone would use them as a patchwork.¡±


    ¡°Think about the dolls we saw. Maybe Ikimono¡¯s one of them.¡±


    ¡°No. They can¡¯t be. Look at their skin, it¡¯s all together, homogenous. This fabric isn¡¯t just sewn on, it¡¯s sewn in.¡±


    Fuego tugs at the stitches a little, and in a little gap between fabric and flesh they find a patch of muscle, twisting and pulsing.


    ¡°My goodness, you¡¯re right. But the mold, that can¡¯t be their own skin.¡±


    ¡°Black mold isn¡¯t strong enough to support wood, let alone something like flesh. When you poke your finger through a rotten board, it collapses. And besides¡­¡±


    Fuego gently lifts up Ikimono¡¯s right arm. Their fingers are stripped clean of skin, leaving behind callused muscle for finger pads.


    ¡°You can¡¯t graft this. This is them.¡±


    ¡°I wonder if it¡¯s just their arms.¡±


    Fuego covers their fingers in the green glitter, and slowly their skin starts to grow back. ¡°I¡¯d bet it isn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know if I want to find out. They hardly know us, y¡¯know?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re our healer. I¡¯m sure if they knew, they wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Positive.¡±


    Fuego looks at Adderall, then at Ikimono. ¡°No. I can¡¯t do it. I won¡¯t do it. I¡¯ll heal what I can see, but no more. Unless they ask, of course.¡±


    ¡°Then wake them up.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then. As you wish.¡±


    Fuego snaps vens fingers, and a golden rose conjures in the palm of his uninjured hand. Ve rolls Ikimono¡¯s head into vens lap and holds the rose to his face. Slowly, Ikimono¡¯s eyes flutter open. Fuego smiles and takes his hand away from Ikimono.


    ¡°Nan toshi buri desu ka?¡± They slur.


    ¡°What?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Nan toshi¡­¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Adderall suggests, ¡°How long?¡±


    Ikimono nods. ¡°How many¡­how many¡­years¡­?¡±


    ¡°Years?¡± Adderall smiles, ¡°It¡¯s only been a couple hours!¡±


    ¡°Nan ji desu ka?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re just coming to, let them be,¡± Fuego says. ¡°They¡¯ll need a couple minutes to think in common again.¡±


    Ikimono rolls over and buries their head in Fuego¡¯s stomach. Fuego gently drapes vens arms over them.


    ¡°I fixed your fingers up for you if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Fuego says, ¡°Your fabric graft, too.¡±


    ¡°Arigatou gozaimasu,¡± Ikimono mutters, ¡°Kurushii, takusan na kurushii.¡±


    Fuego pats Ikimono¡¯s back awkwardly. Ve hasn¡¯t a clue what they¡¯re saying, and something tells ven Adderall doesn¡¯t know either. Suddenly, Fuego feels a warm wetness against vens stomach. Ve figures Ikimono is just crying.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s alright,¡± Ve says, rubbing their back, ¡°It¡¯s ok, let it out. You¡¯ve been up here for a while, it¡¯s evening now. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re confused, and that¡¯s ok. You¡¯re ok, Ikimono.¡±


    Ikimono rolls away from Fuego¡¯s embrace and sits up on the floor with the pair. They take one look at Fuego¡¯s stomach and look at the ground in shame. Fuego looks down, and at once ve knows why Ikimono turned away. They weren¡¯t crying, they were bleeding.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± Ikimono starts, ¡°Boku wa- I don¡¯t cry, I- namida ga nakinai, chi, chi ga nakimasu- no tears, blood.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Ikimono curls up into themselves and Adderall quickly jumps to their aid. She takes the vial of oil back out from her bag and holds it out in front of Ikimono. They meekly look up from their sorrow in curiosity.


    ¡°Smell it,¡± she says, ¡°It¡¯ll calm you down some.¡±


    Hesitantly, Ikimono leans in to smell the vial. They take in a small breath, then let out a sigh. Adderall nods in approval.


    ¡°It¡¯s lavender,¡± she beams, ¡°If you hold out your wrists, I¡¯ll give you some.¡±


    She takes Ikimono¡¯s hand and holds it out in front of her. She dabs a bit of oil on them, then caps the vial. She rubs her wrists together, and Ikimono mirrors her movement. She lifts her wrists to her face, and Ikimono does the same. They sit back a little when the smell hits their sinuses.


    ¡°Do you want something you can work with your hands?¡± She offers. ¡°Maybe something to chew on? Music? I¡¯ve got all seven senses covered in my bag.¡±


    ¡°Tabe-¡± they pause, ¡°Something to taste would be nice.¡±


    ¡°Something to taste? Sounds good! What do you like?¡±


    ¡°Whatever you see first is fine.¡±


    ¡°Whatever I see first? Got it!¡±


    She rummages around in her bag, occasionally taking out some odd contraption or tin of goo for better visibility. Her expression brightens up, and she hands Ikimono a little orange candy wrapped in clear plastic.


    ¡°It¡¯s butterscotch,¡± she explains, handing them the candy. ¡°It¡¯s a very smooth flavor. You¡¯ll love it!¡±


    Ikimono unwraps the candy and puts it in their mouth. The soft, buttery flavor is completely foreign, but certainly not unpleasant. They click the sweet disk against their teeth, sliding it across their tongue to savor the sweetness.


    ¡°It¡¯s very good,¡± they say, tucking the candy between their teeth and cheek, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I always keep something on hand because we never know when someone will go down and out with panic or overstim. We all look out for each other like that, but I¡¯m the keeper of the sensory bag.¡±


    Ikimono cocks their head to the side. ¡°Overstim?¡±


    ¡°Overstimulation. Like, when there¡¯s too much going on, be it noise, textures, smells, and you start breaking down or shutting down.¡±


    Ikimono tries remembering what that sort of thing feels like. ¡°I¡¯m not good with shut spaces. Is that overstim?¡±


    ¡°On its own? No, I think that¡¯s just claustrophobic.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Ok.¡±


    The three sit in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Ikimono wonders if they¡¯re the reason why.


    ¡°Can you believe I¡¯ve never had this, er, butterscotch before?¡±


    ¡°Never?¡± Adderall gasps.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Well, how is it?¡±


    ¡°I love it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good! There¡¯s all sorts of things you can get with butterscotch. Candy, ice cream, cake, all good things have a butterscotch.¡±


    Ikimono looks forlornly into the distance. What is it with these people and their food? They bond over snacks and treats, carry candy in their pockets, carry their next meal with concern in their mind. Did they never satisfy? Were they starved? Still though, the distant memory of fluffy pastries scratches at Ikimono¡¯s brain like a dog begging for attention. Maybe they¡¯re the hungry one.


    ¡°Ikimono?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Before you went out, what¡¯s the last thing you remember?¡±


    They pause. ¡°I was vomiting.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember why?¡±


    Their gaze slowly turns to the noose dangling above them.


    Their voice sounds distant. ¡°It got to my windpipe this time. I couldn¡¯t breathe.¡±


    ¡°It did? What did?¡±


    Ikimono points at the noose. ¡°That.¡±


    Fuego looks up at the wire noose. If it weren¡¯t for the stains of red at its base, it¡¯d be invisible in the darkness. It looms overhead, always watching, and somehow indifferent to everything it sees. Ve wonders why one would hang gallows over a stage, but ve knows deep down the spectacle itself is good enough reason. Most circuses love their death-defying acts, but in a place without death, ve supposes there is no reason to defy it.


    ¡°I hang myself at the end of my act,¡± Ikimono explains, ¡°That¡¯s how it goes. It¡¯s getting harder to do that now. It just goes deeper and deeper in my neck.¡±


    ¡°Has that ever happened before?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m worried that if it keeps happening Sunshine will find out.¡±


    ¡°So? He can put you in a different act, and you won¡¯t have to hang yourself anymore. Or he¡¯ll let you stop doing it.¡±


    Ikimono runs pale. They shake their head in terror.


    ¡°Fuego, you don¡¯t understand. I have to hang myself.¡±


    ¡°You never have to do anything. He¡¯ll understand if you stop.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, I can¡¯t just do that. He-¡±


    Footsteps ring out from below them in the stage. Ikimono swallows the rest of the candy and reaches for their scarf. They frantically knot it around their throat, then rise to stand on shaky legs. Fuego follows suit, then Adderall. Ikimono puts their finger to their mouth to hush them. They reach for their puppets, and then start for the ribbon to climb down. Adderall wants to rush to Ikimono¡¯s side, but Fuego holds their arm out to stop her advance. The two walk at a safe distance behind their friend.


    When Ikimono slides down the ribbon, they take another look back up to the rafters. They find Adderall and Fuego looking down from the opening. They¡¯re about to signal to them to come down when they¡¯re suddenly interrupted by the clearing of a throat.


    ¡°Oh, Sunshine,¡± they squeak, ¡°It¡¯s good to see you.¡±


    ¡°What keeps you this long after the show?¡± Sunshine growls, ¡°It¡¯s far too late to be here, you know.¡±


    ¡°I passed out,¡± they admit, ¡°The noose went in too deep, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°The noose went too deep? And it knocked you asleep?¡±


    They nod.


    Sunshine walks forward. From the rafters, Fuego and Adderall can only see his shadow cast against Ikimono and the curtain wall.


    ¡°You¡¯d better be careful doing something like that. If I find you first, it won¡¯t be a pleasant nap.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know. I can¡¯t help being unconscious like that, though.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯d better start finding better places to hide. If I start a game, you don¡¯t want me to find.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just start a game of hide-and-seek without telling someone. It¡¯s not fair.¡±


    ¡°If you be Mr. Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek. If you wanted a fair game, then you¡¯d stop being so meek.¡±


    Some unknown courage takes root in Ikimono¡¯s throat. Something in their mind wants to stop it, but the glow of their words forces past their better judgment. Maybe it¡¯s because they know Fuego and Adderall are right above them, but they decide to take a stand for once.


    They rise to meet Sunshine¡¯s voice. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s unreasonable of me to want a fair game.¡±


    From the rafters, the shadow grows larger. Adderall snaps two pink orbs of light into her hands, but Fuego puts vens arm before her again. Ve hushes her and then leans over to see Ikimono better, vens tail twitching in anticipation.


    ¡°You play my games, you abide my ways. That¡¯s the way it goes in this colorful maze.¡±


    Ikimono takes a step back. Their courage is quickly faltering. ¡°I just think the kinder thing to do would be to let me wake up myself.¡±


    ¡°Kinder? Creature, kindness means I don¡¯t put you down. If you¡¯re looking for your kindness, it will never be found.¡±


    Ikimono hangs their head. ¡°Yes, Sunshine. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You ought to be glad I haven¡¯t killed you already, but never mind that, there¡¯s something more pressing. Answer me honestly and I¡¯ll keep my word true.¡±


    A sharp pain races through them, shocking them back to attention.


    ¡°Who was up in the rafters with you?¡±


    Ikimono stands paralyzed in fear. They stare Sunshine in the eyes, and with a sudden sharpness their mind goes blank. They don¡¯t dare break their stare to look upwards. A prickling of cold thoughts wants to rise into their mind, but Ikimono fights them off.


    ¡°Well? What have you to tell?¡±


    The roots take hold again.


    ¡°Nobody.¡±


    Sunshine looks genuinely puzzled. He tilts his head to one side, slowly tapping the orb on his cane. His mouth droops open as though he lost whatever words he wanted to say.


    ¡°Nobody, you say?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Nobody at all,¡± Ikimono says, holding their thoughts tight. ¡°I got up, calmed myself down, and headed out.¡±


    Sunshine doesn¡¯t look like he can protest. ¡°Alright then, if that¡¯s what you pray.¡±


    Ikimono can hardly believe it. Sunshine¡¯s actually convinced. They can¡¯t think about it too much, though. Perhaps his humor is already starting to change.


    ¡°And how do I know you¡¯re not lying to me? How do I trust your innocent plea?¡±


    Ikimono gives Sunshine a warm smile.


    ¡°Oh, Sunshine,¡± they laugh, ¡°Why would I ever lie to you? You know me inside and out, you don¡¯t even need to look at me to know what I¡¯m feeling. I can¡¯t get anything past you, so why even try?¡±


    Sunshine seems satisfied. He nods and returns the grin.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good creature, now run along to your car. You know where I¡¯ll be, you know I¡¯m never far.¡±


    Sunshine turns and walks out of the stage and into the alcove. Ikimono watches him stride into the darkness with utter bewilderment. Their hands shake, their legs feel like they¡¯re going to break like balsa wood, but they still stand. When at last the feeling of Sunshine¡¯s departure fills their chest, they turn back to invite Adderall and Fuego down from the rafters.


    ¡°What¡¯s his deal?¡± Adderall asks.


    Ikimono grins nervously, clasping their hands together. ¡°He¡¯s rather fond of me.¡±


    ¡°Fond?¡± Fuego asks.


    ¡°Yeah, fond. He¡¯s quite protective over people he loves. You know, imaginary friend instinct.¡±


    Adderall and Fuego look at each other. They wonder if Ikimono¡¯s being sarcastic.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    Ikimono¡¯s voice flutters. ¡°Yes, positive.¡±


    The three stand in silence. None of them are convinced. Not even Ikimono. They slowly unclasp their hands and relax their shoulders. They let out a breath and turn their gaze back down to the alcove.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± they begin, ¡°I lied to him. I actually lied to him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah you did,¡± Fuego smiles.


    ¡°No, Fuego, you can¡¯t just lie to Sunshine. He sees right through you. I swear, he can feel it in your thoughts that you¡¯re lying. He¡¯ll hold the truth over your head, too, he already knows what happened. And he believed me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe ¡®cause he loves you?¡± Adderall mutters under her breath.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust me like that,¡± Ikimono continues, ¡°I had to have been telling the truth to him. But I wasn¡¯t, you two were up there with me. I¡¯m going insane, I can feel it.¡±


    Fuego laughs a little. ¡°You¡¯re not going insane, Ikimono, you lied well enough to be believed. I do stuff like that a lot.¡±


    ¡°You do? And people believe you?¡±


    ¡°Ok, technically since I¡¯m a fairy I can¡¯t lie-lie, but I can twist the truth just enough for people to believe me. See, it¡¯s a skill, and just like any other skill it can be used against cops.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°And as a seasoned half-fibber, I can say with confidence you did a good job.¡±


    Ikimono looks at Fuego in wonder. If Fuego isn¡¯t ashamed of being a liar, then why would they be?


    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s getting late,¡± Adderall says, ¡°DJ asked us to meet them and the rest of the group by the stage where all the food carts are again. Do you wanna come with?¡±


    ¡°Do you want me there?¡± Ikimono asks.


    Fuego tosses vens arm over Ikimono¡¯s shoulder, and Ikimono stumbles into his body. ¡°We¡¯d love you there! And I¡¯m sure everyone else would love to hear how you lied to Sunshine.¡±


    Ikimono can hardly believe it. For once, they¡¯re a hero.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll come with you,¡± They grin.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Fuego nods. ¡°I was worried, we still don¡¯t know the way around here well, and we¡¯d probably get lost without you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to be your guide, then.¡±

 Live from the Cafeteria

    I think when you get used to living life by surviving day by day, you forget you¡¯re supposed to be alive. Days start to flow into each other like oil into water, and you feel like you¡¯re just rolling down a hill, getting dizzy. I can¡¯t tell you what happened last week, last year, none of it. But today and yesterday hang vividly in my mind. My memory is colorful, too, and I remember things that I don¡¯t really need to. I don¡¯t need to remember that the hokey pokey was grape, I don¡¯t need to remember that the fish¡¯s name is skin, but I do. Maybe that doesn¡¯t mean much to you, but it¡¯s important to me.


    I have one touch of kindness to remember everyone by. I remember DJ because they picked me up and carried me today. I remember Peony because she asked me to come with her and Sebastian. I remember Sebastian because he gave me a treat, and Adderall the same, my grape and butterscotch. Fuego gave me the armlet. I think the only one who hasn¡¯t done anything is the bat-girl.


    I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re all throwing themselves at me without hesitation like this. Maybe they¡¯re insane, maybe they¡¯ve got a deathwish, but I appreciate it, you know? Good things don¡¯t come around as often as I¡¯d like them to. If the party comes my way, then I¡¯ll have a slice of the celebration. If they let me stay and celebrate, of course. Then again, I¡¯ve seen my share of troupes, and I know when I¡¯m not wanted. You see it when they bicker with one another, when they hold fast to only a pair, when one won¡¯t talk to another. And of course when they ignore you. They keep to each other, spare you only a passing remark or spark of interest, but you¡¯re a conversation piece more than a person. I haven¡¯t seen them bicker, I haven¡¯t seen them split off, and they¡¯ve always made an effort to keep me in their midst. Maybe I¡¯m a person to them.


    Oh, what do I know? It¡¯s only day two. They might have dragged on for months, but it¡¯s only two days.


    ¡­


    ¡°Your first lie, hm?¡± DJ asks.


    Ikimono nods. ¡°I can hardly believe it myself.¡±


    DJ wistfully grins. ¡°I remember my first lie. You remember when I first came here, Fuego? How I had to help you with the wedding?¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± ve cringes, ¡°You were the only good thing about that fiasco.¡±


    ¡°Uh, hello?¡± Peony interjects, ¡°Your bride is right here?¡±


    Peony gestures to Juniper. Juniper laughs and puts her paw on Juniper¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop ven,¡± she smiles, ¡°I feel exactly the same way about Fuego.¡±


    Ikimono sputters. ¡°You¡¯re married?¡±


    Sebastian rolls his eyes in jest. ¡°Oh my god, here we go.¡±


    Something about the air begins to change at the table, as though a heavy fog rolled in and engulfed the whole lot of them. The table begins to shake and distort, and the dishes of food sprawling out slowly start to evaporate into glimmering colors. DJ rises from their seat, and the soft glow of the fire around their bad eye ignites to lessen the darkness settling around them. With a snap of their claws, the table falls to the ground, slowly filling the dusty ground with polished wood. The others rise from their seats, jumping ahead to join DJ in the thin light. Ikimono, confused, stays put in their chair.


    ¡°You¡¯d think it¡¯s the subject of a very good joke,¡± DJ begins, ¡°A gay man and a lesbian are getting married for political reasons. Boom¨C¡±


    A warm, welcoming stage light beams down on DJ. The sudden jump from the shadows takes Ikimono by surprise.


    ¡°¨CWith the setup alone you¡¯ve got half the audience knocked out laughing. Of course, when the punchline comes and they¡¯re cutting each other¡¯s hands with their daggers, staring into each other¡¯s eyes with nothing but seething contempt, you can¡¯t really laugh.¡±


    DJ¡¯s spotlight grows faintly, pulling the others into the scene from their sides of the pocket stage. They¡¯ve all taken their spots in other chairs, cushions, and fainting couches in an almost too-perfect set. Something about the placement reminds Ikimono of Sunshine¡¯s lair, but they haven¡¯t the courage to tell that to DJ.


    Adderall, who has positioned herself along the back of a couch, dramatically puts the back of her hand to her forehead as if she were to faint. ¡°Oh, how dreamy! On the altar and they already want to kill each other!¡±


    ¡°Why were they getting married?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°A tale as old as time,¡± DJ continues, melodramatically gesturing and waving their hands to the opposite sides of the theater. ¡°See, Juniper¡¯s the fair princess of the Kingdom Under the Bed. Fuego here¡¯s the noble Fairy Prince. The happy friends and the fairies haven¡¯t had the most stable relationship, so the good King Frog and old Verbena the Wise agree to marry off their kids to keep peace between their lands.¡±


    ¡°You think they could¡¯ve just signed a treaty, but no,¡± Juniper says, reclining atop a misplaced ottoman, ¡°They had to do things the old-fashioned way.¡±


    DJ waves their hand across Fuego¡¯s side of the stage. ¡°Verbena sends her beloved progeny and vens trusty handmaid-servant-what-have-you to make the trip across the starry sea of Andromeda to come to the Kingdom Under the Bed for King Frog to accept his daughter¡¯s suitor and give his good blessing to host the wedding. Only when ve comes to the docks of Elfame, vens royal boat has already left!¡±


    DJ pauses, then double takes.


    ¡°¨CWait, it did leave without you, right Fuego?¡±


    Fuego puts vens face in vens hands. ¡°Worse. Other way around. They didn¡¯t even float the boat out yet.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t even float out the boat?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Dear god, alright.¡±


    With a solemn shake of their head, DJ returns their attention to Ikimono.


    ¡°¨CVens royal boat hadn¡¯t even arrived! Woe unto the prince! How ever will ve make it on time to the citadel of the Kingdom Under the Bed?¡±


    ¡°A bargain with death, of course,¡± Peony smiles.


    A small flourish of music fills the air. She leaps up from her seat on a fainting couch to stand beside DJ. With her voice comes a faint melody that follows her to her spot beside the narrator.


    ¡°Precisely! A deal with the harbinger of death, destruction, and all things terrible, the ferryman Peony! Ve and vens beloved servant, armed with as much or as little that will fit within the ferryman¡¯s boat, paid the due to cross the starry sea. The trio set out that morning, with the raven¡¯s moony eyes just barely open enough to see them out on their journey.¡±


    ¡°Sounds harrowing,¡± Ikimono remarks, reaching out to grab a steamed bun from a dish of fried treats just within the clutches of shadows. They wonder if the feast on the once-table was in anticipation of a story.


    ¡°Indeed, but that was not the end of their tale! For along the way, death had to reap, as is her unholy duty. Halfway to the kingdom, she happened upon a wayward soul lost in the waves. The fiery, beastly soul of a dragon.¡±


    ¡°You?¡± Ikimono asks.


    The music climbs into an uproar as DJ¡¯s enthusiasm froths from their voice. ¡°Yes! ¡®Twas I! Just barely blinking in the world, and I had already been tugged along into an adventure. I climbed into the boat and came with them to the Kingdom Under the Bed.¡±


    The music abruptly stops.


    ¡°Climbed in?¡± Adderall rebukes, ¡°You almost tipped the boat!¡±


    ¡°You knocked me out into the sky, DJ,¡± Fuego adds.


    ¡°Excuse me for never having wings before.¡±


    Fuego¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°A dragon who¡¯d never had wings before?¡±


    ¡°How can you prove I was a dragon in my past life?¡±


    Peony calmly puts her void hand between the three of them, and at once their quarreling stops.


    ¡°It was true,¡± she begins, lowering her tone to add suspense to the tale. ¡°DJ knocked the Fairy Prince from my ferry, but I reached in and pulled ven out with this very hand!¡±


    Peony holds up her void arm. It looks as though the stars from the sea are still shimmering in the inky ooze. The music returns again, just as barreling as before.


    ¡°Is,¡± Ikimono stutters, ¡°Is that how you lost your arm?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, that was when I was wrestling sharks at the aquarium. Longer story.¡±


    Sebastian, seated patiently with a glass cello, stops playing and looks at her in confusion. ¡°I thought you told me you lost your arm in a sparring match with the Dusken Knight and forged a new one from star matter.¡±


    ¡°I heard her tell Creo she replaced it with magic so she could cast better,¡± Adderall chides.


    ¡°She lost it in a ritual accident?¡± Juniper asks.


    Ikimono is just about as confused as everyone else.


    She dismisses everyone¡¯s puzzlement with a single sentence. ¡°Could be. DJ?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    DJ nods, and the others relax back into their places. Sebastian shrugs and continues to play.


    ¡°And so we made it to the citadel just in time. King Frog¡¯s patience was at the end of its rope, and had we arrived a mere minute later, our heads would be rolling in the street! The four of us knelt before his throne in humble prostration, and in return for our kindness, he yelled at us for our condition. The Fairy King and two stowaways, how preposterous a dilemma! He was almost willing to send us four back to Elfame with neither dowry nor bride. That was until Peony¡¯s quick thinking saved us all.¡±


    ¡°I said we came as Fuego¡¯s servants,¡± she explains, ¡°I explained that I was vens knightley guard, Adderall his servant¨C¡±


    ¡°And I was vens advisor. That was my first lie. I didn¡¯t know anything at all.¡±


    ¡°And King Frog believed us.¡±


    ¡°So he sent his humble assistant Creo to retrieve Juniper for us.¡±


    DJ and Peony rush to grab Fuego and Juniper from the opposing sides of the stage. They each resist their captuer¡¯s grasp for a moment or two, then begrudgingly make their way to center stage.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to get married,¡± Juniper says, ¡°But when I met Fuego, I wanted to get married even less.¡±


    ¡°Oh please,¡± Fuego grumbles, ¡°It took everything in me to not gouge out all 8 of my eyes when I saw you.¡±


    ¡°And so our bride and groom first met!¡± DJ calls, ¡°Oh, you could feel the pure chemistry between them suffocating you in the air!¡±


    ¡°The perfect pair!¡± Peony adds.


    ¡°But Juniper, for all the high glory of the kingdom she hailed from, didn¡¯t have a handmaiden to help her prepare for her wedding. So Adderall generously volunteered to help her.¡±


    Adderall leaps from their seat and crosses the stage to Juniper.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need the help,¡± she mumbles.


    ¡°Did to!¡± Fuego snaps.


    ¡°And since I was the great knight, I had to stay with Fuego to help him prepare for the occasion.¡±


    ¡°Ve needed the help,¡± Adderall smiles.


    ¡°Did not!¡± Ve retorts.


    ¡°But even with the bridesmaid, groomsman, and servants selected, all we needed was someone to officiate the wedding,¡± DJ continues, ¡°And in spite of his mutism, Creo was happy to oblige.¡±


    ¡°Creo?¡± Ikimono asks.


    Sebastian looks up from his instrument. ¡°Creo, the grand wizard, advisor to King Frog of the Kingdom Under the Bed. He¡¯s the last gooling in all of Portar.¡±


    Ikimono can hardly fathom being the last of anything. They¡¯ve encountered loneliness, sure, but there is something even more profoundly lonely about being the only one of your kind to remain without hope of ever finding another. They wonder if he finds solace, anger, or despair in his reflection. But before they can lose themself in thought, Peony picks up the narration.


    ¡°Marriages in our kingdom work a bit differently than how they work in the realm of the living. No rings for us fairies, happy friends, dead folk, and other miscellaneous freaks. We do things by blood here. Sebastian, would you help me demonstrate?¡±


    Sebastian sheepishly looks up from his playing. He taps out a rhythm on the glass, and when he stands to join Peony, the cello continues to play by itself.


    ¡°When people want to be married, they begin by finding an ornate dagger or knife for their partner,¡± She begins, ¡°Of course, any old kitchen knife or razor will do, but when love¡¯s what¡¯s on the cutting table, you want something better.¡±


    ¡°Can we make this quick?¡± Sebastian protests, ¡°You know how squeamish I am with blood.¡±


    Should¡¯ve found a different circus then, Ikimono thinks.


    ¡°You find wherever it is you want to do the deed¨C if it were me, I¡¯d find an old willow or wisteria somewhere far away from where someone else can see ¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh, that sounds nice,¡± Sebastian mutters.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°And you get someone to recite that old spell for you. When the spell is said, it¡¯ll seal you together until either you die or the spell is broken. Sometimes, when the pair themselves know the spell because they¡¯re magical scholars like Seb and I, they¡¯ll say the spell themselves.¡±


    ¡°Is it a hard spell?¡± Ikimono asks.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Sebastian replies. ¡°it¡¯s like¨C oh, how does it go?¡±


    Peony looks on in genuine anticipation as Sebastian ponders to himself. She looks down at the knife and wonders if she should really do it.


    No, no, this is just a show, she thinks, And besides, he¡¯d hate me if I did it without his permission. You don¡¯t just marry someone blindly. Oh, he¡¯d probably hate me for even thinking about it.


    Before she can spiral, Sebastian snaps her from her thoughts. ¡°I can¡¯t remember it now. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll come back to me at some point or another.¡±


    ¡°Right then,¡± Peony says, half stumbling over her words. ¡°But once you say the spell, you cut your hands open.¡±


    Sebastian pitifully looks down at Peony as she pulls in his hand. The two lock eyes for a mere second before he frantically looks away. To his surprise, though, she only taps his palm with the handle. Cautiously, he turns to look back at her.


    ¡°And if you feel really woozy at the sight of your own blood like Seb here¨C¡±


    She turns to Sebastian and with a single glance asks him for permission. He nods in reply, leaning down a bit to look her in the eyes. She pauses and puts her hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth. Then, with but a moment¡¯s hesitation, she kisses him.


    ¡°--You get your partner to take your breath away so you¡¯ll pass out and be done with it!¡±


    Sebastian stumbles back a little, rising once more to his full height. She isn¡¯t lying, whatever air had settled itself into his lungs has left behind a vacuum of butterflies and stardust. He thought it¡¯d just be the hand on his cheek to calm him from his nerves. He isn¡¯t complaining at all about her, gods no. If he were any more a fool, he¡¯d dare say this was only a lucid dream. But oh, the pounding in his heart would be all the more to wake him up.


    He anxiously glances over at Peony. He wants to think she¡¯s joking, but she¡¯s got the same sparkle in her eyes and the same red across her face.


    Gods, she¡¯s adorable.


    No, no, she has to be. This is all a performance, after all. All for the act, all for the drama. Even the illusions and pocket realm surrounding them are inauthentic. Everyone¡¯s on a high from the stage today, Peony no doubt the same. She¡¯s just embarrassed she did it at all, that she kissed someone as undeserving as him. He would be too, maybe. The thoughts swarm him like hornets.


    ¡°And that concludes our demonstration,¡± Peony says, just as breathless at her partner, ¡°Now, back to our regularly scheduled misadventure.¡±


    Sebastian stumbles back to his instrument and finds his hands stiffer to work than what they were before. Peony almost walks straight into DJ when she turns away.


    ¡°Oh, terribly sorry,¡± she mutters.


    ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you,¡± DJ whispers, ¡°Had no idea you were such a casanova.¡±


    ¡°No, DJ, it¡¯s not¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get you a boba afterwards, my treat.¡±


    ¡°DJ¨C¡±


    They pick up without missing a beat. ¡°Creo, the highest wizard in all of Portar, is ready to officiate the wedding.¡±


    DJ claps twice, and Juniper and Fuego emerge from opposite sides of the stage, dressed to the nines in their cloaks and kimono.


    Fuego nods at DJ. ¡°You did a good job with the corset. Never thought someone with such big claws could work with such delicate threading.¡±


    A certain disquiet fills DJ¡¯s stomach. The memories flood back in droves. There have been as many ignorances resolved by calm instruction as there have been successes with careful weaving. DJ¡¯s laced his corset a dozen times, each time better and more skillfully then the last, but they know to Fuego, they¡¯d only laced it once. They just said yes, I¡¯ve done it before, and ve believed them. Ve had no reason not to, but ve did without any questioning. Nothing of where they learned it from, nothing of who came before.


    Who taught you how to lace a corset? They feared ve¡¯d ask.


    Well, I don¡¯t know how else to say it, DJ feared they¡¯d answer, You did, Fuego.


    ¡°DJ?¡±


    The memories fade from their eyes.


    Fuego¡¯s just as patient as ve was the first time. DJ always liked that about ven. ¡°You started again.¡±


    ¡°Ah, did I?¡± They reply, ¡°My apologies.¡±


    From the audience, Ikimono catches a glimpse of the terror in their eyes.


    DJ clears their throat. ¡°Fuego, progeny of the Fairies, and Juniper, princess of the Imaginaries, wed! Oh, what a glorious sight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not kissing you,¡± Juniper growls, ¡°Once was enough for me.¡±


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± Fuego replies, ¡°You tasted like energy drinks and sour worms.¡±


    ¡°News flash, idiot, you¡¯re not supposed to taste your victims when you kiss them.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me for my senses being flashbanged when you did whatever breathing thing you did to me. You gotta figure out how to kiss if you ever want a girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°You take that back, fruitcake! You¡¯ve never even kissed a girl before.¡±


    ¡°As if you¡¯re not standing right here?¡±


    ¡°You call that a kiss?¡±


    Adderall swiftly cuts between the two and pushes them away from each other.


    ¡°Fun fact for our viewers at home,¡± she smiles, ¡°Creo had to ask them to kiss! Neither of them wanted to!¡±


    Adderall shoves the two to opposite sides of the stage. Juniper and Fuego shoot each other death glares as they depart. It¡¯s hard to tell if they¡¯re joking.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t get yourself killed when you started snickering to yourself mid-wedding,¡± DJ says.


    ¡°How could I not? Especially when Creo sounded so sopping wet and pathetic about it.¡±


    Peony looks to the ground to hide her smile. ¡°The dejected ¡®please¡¯ was what got me.¡±


    ¡°But the two were wed, however begrudgingly!¡± DJ continues, ¡°And with that, the couple and the guests were sent away to prepare for the next day¡¯s festivities. King Frog and Verbena had planned a roaring festival of good food, wine, and music to celebrate their offspring¡¯s happy marriage.¡±


    ¡°But before all that,¡± Peony adds, ¡°Our lovers had to pass the night with each other.¡±


    The props on the stage start to rearrange into the familiar layout of a bedroom. Adderall tosses a blanket over the fainting couch now positioned to be a bed as she scuttles over to DJ and Peony on stage right.


    ¡°We take you now live to the royal bedchambers of our happy couple, where only one kind of scheming can be happening on their wedding night¨C¡±


    The three narrators of the chorus put their arms around each other and shout in unison.


    ¡°--Homicide!¡±


    Ikimono grins through a mouthful of steamed bun. The best stories are the ones where someone gets murdered. They pity they aren¡¯t on the stage to see it up close, or better yet, take part in it.


    Juniper and Fuego step out onto the newly arranged scenery and stand on opposite sides of the bed. Juniper puts her paws down on the covers with enough force to shake the bed and leans forward to get herself mere inches from Fuego¡¯s face. Fuego idly leans against the back of the couch, crossing his legs as he towers over her.


    Juniper, shockingly, is more desperate than angry. ¡°So. Till death do us part, huh?¡±


    Fuego shakes his head. ¡°One of us has to die, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Which one, though?¡± Juniper asks, ¡°If you kill me, the fairies will wage war against the happy friends.¡±


    ¡°And if I do, the opposite.¡±


    The two lower their heads in grim acceptance. Sebastian¡¯s playing slows to a dirge.


    ¡°What if we did it like this,¡± Juniper begins. ¡°Murder-suicide. We inflict wounds on each other that only we could make. Like, I attack myself and you yourself, then each other. Then, nobody¡¯ll know who did the fatal blow.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not die though, you know? I mean, how old are you, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Common age, happy friend age, or, I don¡¯t know, how do you convert age by fairy standards?¡±


    ¡°Common¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Seventeen.¡±


    ¡°Gods, I¡¯m nineteen in common. This feels weird.¡±


    ¡°Ick, yeah.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ve got the whole world to see. You¡¯ve got a whole life ahead of you, you could go study magic or combat if you wanted to.¡±


    They pause again.


    Fuego shakes his head. ¡°You could find a nice girl, go on a few adventures with her. You shouldn¡¯t be stuck with me.¡±


    ¡°I know. Shouldn¡¯t be stuck with me either.¡±


    Another pause.


    ¡°What do you want to do with your future?¡±


    ¡°Me? I¡¯ve got eleven siblings. Not much lost if I disappear.¡±


    ¡°Eleven siblings? Jeez, what were your parents thinking?¡±


    ¡°Could be worse. Father¡¯s the oldest of 27.¡±


    ¡°Gods. Is Adderall a sibling?¡±


    ¡°No. More of a less-than-voluntary hired hand. And besides, she¡¯s a glyph, I¡¯m a kit.¡±


    ¡°I see. But you said disappear?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I don¡¯t see why we couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an only child, though. Someone would notice.¡±


    ¡°Look. We¡¯ve got Adderall, we¡¯ve got Peony and DJ, and I¡¯m sure Creo wouldn¡¯t mind helping us. We can disappear.¡±


    ¡°You promise?¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    Peony sniffles a little. ¡°Oh, I just knew there was a soft side to those two.¡±


    DJ nods. ¡°Yes, the two had finally come to an understanding. They may not love how kings and queens loved, but there was love. And now there was a goal.¡±


    ¡°You there, you three!¡± Fuego calls.


    The chorus turns to Fuego and kneels before their hero.


    ¡°Yes, Prince Fuego,¡± they reply.


    ¡°Help us escape.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take the way down to the cellar, then we¡¯ll leave through the catacombs. It¡¯s easier.¡±


    ¡°It is done,¡± Peony nods. ¡°Let us go!¡±


    ¡°Oh, and Creo¡¯s here too, by the way,¡± Adderall adds.


    Sebastian¡¯s playing picks up again as the five conjure yet another arrangement of the stage. Furniture and props now become places to hide and sneak past.


    ¡°We had to be swift in our path to escape,¡± DJ begins, ¡°We may not have been the most artful of dodgers, but our path was sure and true. Escape tasted as sweet as summer¡¯s fruit, and freedom the trinket within our grasp.¡±


    ¡°But then we met Willbyr,¡± Juniper hisses.


    Ikimono turns their head to the side. ¡°Willbyr?¡±


    ¡°Willbyr,¡± DJ says, conjuring a flame in their hands to cast shadows on the walls. ¡°Willbyr, the changeling trickster. A wily thief with no true visage. One moment, a satyr with horns of gold and hooves of marble. The next, a snake-armed werebear with eyes of icy blue. He was after the treasured dowry of King Frog, but decided to make a detour. You see, some presence caught his mind¡¯s eye, and he was hellbent on seeing just how far the rabbit hole went.¡±


    ¡°A fruit,¡± Peony continues, ¡°A fruit which grew in the far regions of East Jabip, one that granted its eater a knowledge of their past life. And Willbyr was certain that one of us knew the way.¡±


    ¡°Not me,¡± Juniper says, ¡°I didn¡¯t know there was such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Not I,¡± Fuego says, ¡°I¡¯d never been to The Kingdom Under the Bed before, let alone heard of Jabip, let alone known there was an east one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d heard of the fruit and of East Jabip,¡± Peony adds, ¡°My travels mean I¡¯ve heard of every story and seen every town under the sun, but never the two crossed in passing conversation.¡±


    ¡°Creo didn¡¯t know either,¡± Sebastian says, pausing his playing for a moment, ¡°He didn¡¯t, did he?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Fuego replies.


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m remembering correctly then.¡±


    DJ stands frozen in place, a sudden glassiness overtaking their stare.


    I knew, They think to themself, I was damned from the start, whichever start it was.


    Ikimono suddenly speaks up. ¡°DJ?¡±


    DJ snaps back to life, ready to act once more. ¡°I didn¡¯t know, but Willbyr thought I did. And with his belief in my guidance, he joined us on our path.¡±


    Ikimono narrows their eyes at DJ. A blatant lie.


    ¡°And we made it out of the castle with our lives and friends intact,¡± Peony says, beckoning the others from their quickly fading hiding spots, ¡°There was but one more test for our skills: the catacombs.¡±


    Adderall asks a question, one perfectly rehearsed, one she already knows the answer to. ¡°Can people even die in Portar?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± Peony says, ¡°It takes a very special thing to kill a Portarian. Usually, people find themselves on the other end of something much, much worse.¡±


    ¡°What could possibly be worse than death?¡± Juniper asks.


    Fuego smiles. ¡°Being married to you.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Aside from that.¡±


    ¡°Whatever it is, we don¡¯t want to find out,¡± Peony says, hushing everyone, ¡°Think about it, all you lot, and shudder! Creatures warped and amalgamated into each other, animated only by the rot that festers in their bodies. Things once human, now contorted and eviscerated so that their veins and skin grow like vines and moss on the walls. Haunting things, things no one has words to describe, prowling in search of our souls and the meat that sustains them. Whatever awaits us in the darkness, we must not let it find us!¡±


    ¡°And I?¡±


    Sebastian appears from the darkness, sending all the others reeling in fear. Ikimono hardly noticed the song shift to its autonomous playing.


    ¡°Are you an amalgamate of creatures animated by rot?¡± Adderall asks.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m quite alive,¡± he replies.


    ¡°Are you a human turned growth on the walls?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m all here.¡±


    ¡°Are you something beyond description wanting to feast upon our souls and the flesh that sustains them?¡±


    ¡°No. I mean, I¡¯m hungry, but I¡¯m not desperate.¡±


    ¡°Then come with us,¡± Peony commands, taking his hand and pulling him from the darkness, ¡°We¡¯re not letting you die on our watch.¡±


    ¡°And with the last of the automated players, we scurried off into the darkness, awaiting whatever fate awaited us in the deepest recesses of the catacombs.¡±


    The lights on the stage fade, and the others turn and close their eyes so that the lighted colors in their sockets cannot cut through the darkness. All that remains is the fire around DJ¡¯s bad eye and atop the tip of their tail.


    Ikimono leans forward with caution. The darkness around them is practically suffocating, and the silence that follows it is just as violent. They squint to no avail. They wait, but nobody seems to be doing anything. They can¡¯t even hear movement on the stage before them.


    With a timid whisper, they finally speak.


    ¡°You survived?¡± They ask.


    DJ laughs. They start off with a small chuckle, but as their voice grows into a manic howl, fiery lights of all kinds and colors ignite the stage. In the new, almost oppressive light, they find that DJ is the only one on the stage. Ikimono frantically looks to their sides, but the others are nowhere to be found.


    The sharpness of feigned insanity flicker off DJ¡¯s tongue like the sparks of hellfire. ¡°If we didn¡¯t, we wouldn¡¯t be here telling you about it, now, would we?¡±


    DJ throws their head back and roars with madness. From either side, Peony and Adderall have locked arms with Ikimono and rush them to their feet. Sebastian and Fuego rush around the stage, kicking up papers, confetti, and glitter as they run. Juniper swoops down to where Ikimono stands and rips them away from Peony and Adderall, and as the lights finally fade to a wonderful blue, tosses them out into a spotlight.


    DJ commands respect from the light in which they stand. Their scales glimmer in the brightness like precious gems, and their voice booms like a volcanic eruption. The madness has left them, but the pride holds fast. The microphone conjured in their hands needn¡¯t be turned on for their volume to fill the room.


    ¡°Come on out, all you wonderful players, tragedians, vagabonds, bastards, thespians, troupers, and castaways of any other title! Take your places, you magnificent lot, and let us play!¡±


    The space thrusts into chaos as DJ bows. Colors whizz by Ikimono¡¯s face, heat and cold flicker randomly, and the ground below them seems to spin like a merry-go-round gone mad. The laughter and shouts of the others echo in the air, as does the flailing cacophony of a song they can¡¯t place a melody to. In the midst of the tide, DJ stands calm, proud and ready as a soldier. They point out towards Ikimono, and at once a path of lucidity illuminates to their feet. DJ steps out from the spotlight and strides towards Ikimono, and the friendliness within their eyes and smile begins to overtake the whirlwind.


    ¡°Ikimono,¡± they begin, ¡°Welcome to the show.¡±


    DJ claps their hands twice, and the space vanishes as though it were never there. Ikimono looks down and finds themself back on their chair at the end of the table. The wood hasn¡¯t changed, nor has the food upon the plates or the drinks in the cups. When they look up, they find DJ seated once more at the head of the table, and the others seated on the sides, quietly staring at them. Their ears ring loudly. Ikimono feels like they¡¯ve been ripped from the water, half drowned.


    With nothing left to do, Ikimono applauds.


    DJ nods sincerely. ¡°Glad you liked it.¡±


    The other five seem to relax back into being people again, slowly shifting back into normal conversation between them. Ikimono stares at the plate of steamed buns before them. He knows he¡¯s eaten, yet he doesn¡¯t feel the weight of the food within him.


    ¡°Say, I¡¯m gonna go back up and grab another boba,¡± DJ says, reclining in their seat. ¡°Ikimono, you wanna come?¡±


    Ikimono reaches out for a bun. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here. Just a bit of vertigo.¡±


    ¡°Ah, gotcha. Want anything? Some water, maybe? Might take the edge off.¡±


    ¡°If you want to get me some, I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty then, a water for you. Peony?¡±


    Peony snaps up from a styrofoam bowl of mac and cheese. ¡°Oh, right. I¡¯ll come with you.¡±


    ¡°Right then.¡±


    DJ and Peony stand up from the table and walk off into the sea of tables and chairs. Ikimono looks around and finds the space more vast than they¡¯d ever thought it to be before.


    ¡°Hey, Sebastian?¡± They ask.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°That was awesome.¡±

 My Apologies, but I Believe She Asked for Roses

    ¡°DJ, you don¡¯t have to do this for me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I want to,¡± They reply.


    ¡°No, DJ, you shouldn¡¯t do this for me,¡± Peony protests, ¡°I didn¡¯t ask to kiss him.¡±


    ¡°Did you need to?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course I need to! You don¡¯t just kiss your best friend like that! You have to ask first.¡±


    DJ stops dead in their tracks. ¡°Best friend?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you hothead! Seb¡¯s my best friend. What did you think?¡±


    DJ turns pale. ¡°Oh. I thought you two were dating.¡±


    Peony¡¯s glare is sharper than knives. Her even voice somehow makes it more threatening. ¡°You thought we were dating.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You two get along a lot better than most people do, you¡¯re good with conflicts. You take good care of each other. You stitched him back up when he got stabbed that one time, and he stayed up all night trying to figure out an antidote when you got poisoned. You always go for him when you get scared and he¡¯s around, and he sticks as close to you when he¡¯s overwhelmed.¡±


    Peony¡¯s glare hasn¡¯t lessened any.


    ¡°And I mean,¡± DJ stalls for words. ¡°You are living together.¡±


    ¡°And what makes any of that inherently romantic?¡±


    ¡°Oh goodness, you think I know? Or at least that I can put it into words? I can say ¡®vibes¡¯ and be right, but I know you won¡¯t like that as an answer.¡±


    ¡°Can you at least explain the vibes?¡±


    ¡°Ok, maybe. You probably won¡¯t like it though.¡±


    ¡°I already despise this.¡±


    DJ sucks in a breath, then lets it out. They pause, bite their lip, and stare at her in fear. ¡°So you know in shonen anime when the main guy and his best friend have a dynamic which borders on being outright gay, but they have to throw in a girl that he bickers with sometimes to show the audience he¡¯s het?¡±


    Peony looks somewhere between ready to snap their neck and too disappointed to react. ¡°Name one shonen.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± DJ says, frantically looking around, ¡°Diamond is Unbreakable.¡±


    Her eyes narrow.


    ¡°Come on, Peony, we¡¯ve watched DIU together, you know Josuke and Okuyasu kiss each other goodnight!¡±


    ¡°And what about that says romance to you?¡±


    ¡°You know, kissing the homies goodnight?¡±


    DJ finally falters. They look to the ground, close their eyes, and sigh.


    ¡°Ok. Yeah, that¡¯s,¡± they shrug, ¡°That¡¯s understandable.¡±


    ¡°Look, not everything has to be perfect. Sometimes you¡¯re just friends and that¡¯s it.¡±


    DJ raises their gaze from the ground.  ¡°Yeah, and that¡¯s alright too.¡±


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°And besides,¡± Peony says, ¡°Aren¡¯t friends supposed to be a little in love with each other?¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re friends. You have someone you keep coming back to, no matter what. You saw someone and decided to keep coming back. You walk down the same road because you just want to. Isn¡¯t that love?¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯d know that better than any of us, about coming back,¡± She smiles, ¡°Coming back and keeping your wings open for us to run under and be shielded. You protect us because you love us, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡±


    ¡°I love Sebastian, but I love him the way you love me. Does that make sense?¡±


    Peony¡¯s almost lying. Maybe, though, if she lies enough, she¡¯ll believe it too.


    DJ teases like an older brother. ¡°You still love him, though. I¡¯ll remember that.¡±


    Peony relaxes as a devilish grin curls across their face. ¡°DJ¡­¡±


    ¡°And you love him enough to apologize for kissing him.


    ¡°DJ¡±


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll stop. What flavor of boba do you want?¡±


    ¡°Rose, you big idiot.¡±


    ¡­


    ¡°Hey, Seb?¡±


    Sebastian looks up from his pillow and back at Peony. Something¡¯s been eating away at her all evening. Whenever she starts stumbling over her words, he knows, and she hasn¡¯t been talking as well since they split after the performance.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to apologize for kissing you earlier,¡± she begins, ¡°I didn¡¯t ask to do that, and I should¡¯ve.¡±


    Sebastian blinks, and the sudden pit of worry digging in his chest transforms into something between anxiety and confusion. She should¡¯ve asked, yes, but he didn¡¯t exactly mind that it was her. He would¡¯ve minded if it was anyone else, but with her he was neutral. It caught him off guard, but it wasn¡¯t too terrible. Maybe he just doesn¡¯t know how to feel.


    He shrugs. ¡°I forgive you. I didn¡¯t mind it much.¡±


    ¡°I still should¡¯ve asked.¡±


    ¡°I know. But like,¡± he pauses, ¡°Oh, how do I phrase this? You¡¯re my best friend, Peony.¡±


    ¡°A best friend ought to know better.¡±


    ¡°Ok, yes, sure, but I trust you enough to know you weren¡¯t doing it to hurt me or anything. We were performing, we got ourselves in a spot where we had to act out a marriage, and we did. If there¡¯s anyone I¡¯d trust to do that with, it¡¯s you.¡±


    Peony doesn¡¯t feel any better. She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. The sheets are devilishly uncomfortable tonight.


    ¡°And besides,¡± he continues, ¡°If I really didn¡¯t like it, I would¡¯ve pulled away.¡±


    The words linger in her ears. She knows they¡¯ll haunt her for the rest of the night, maybe even longer. He isn¡¯t lying, and maybe that¡¯s the worst part.


    Sebastian senses her unease and finds his own growing. ¡°Well, ok, maybe that¡¯s not the right word. What I meant is that if I was really uncomfortable with it, I would¡¯ve gotten out of it. I would¡¯ve seen it coming and moved or held you at arm¡¯s length or something else. We were acting out a scene and we needed to do it. That¡¯s just what actors do. We were actors. If I didn¡¯t like it, I would¡¯ve told you after so you¡¯d know not to do it again, or, I guess, even let us be in that position again. You¡¯re ok, Peony, I forgive you.¡±


    Peony tucks up and rests her arms on her knees. Sebastian looks at her, then looks away. His antennae fall limp in shame.


    ¡°Look, Peony, how long have we known each other?¡±


    ¡°Long enough to know better.¡±


    Sebastian laughs nervously, slowly rising from the floor. ¡°Peony, five years is quite a long time to know someone for, especially at our age. I know you well enough to know you did it for the performance, and you know me well enough to know I would¡¯ve done something if I didn¡¯t want you to. It might not make what you did ok, but it makes it so I can forgive you, alright?¡±


    She looks up at him sheepishly. ¡°Alright. You just, I don¡¯t know, you looked dazed afterwards. I felt bad before, but when I looked back, I felt terrible.¡±


    ¡°So did you.¡±


    The two stare at each other. Whether they know it or not, the same question burns the back of their mind.


    ¡°So are we good?¡± Sebastian asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Peony replies.


    ¡°Alright then, I¡¯m going to bed. Goodnight, Peony.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Seb.¡±


    Sebastian walks back to his bed on the floor and the two of them lie down. Peony reaches over for the light switch, and with the press of a button, the room plunges into darkness.