《Upon a star: a hell of a love story》 Meet-cute 13 July 2023 - Arthur Velnias''s bedroom, in the house he shares with his best friend Ginie Russo, on Sycamore street It was a dreary Monday morning at the beginning of winter semester and Arthur Velnias was in the early stages of recovery from last night¡¯s raucous online-party. Ginie, his flatmate, and the only physical invitee to that party, was still sleeping it off and probably would be for days. Arthur was exhausted too.A persistent breeze shook Arthur¡¯s window in its flimsy frame causing it to rattle like loose teeth in a wooden box. He flicked on the little ceramic heater, but he knew it had no chance against the creeping cold of the drafty old house on Sycamore lane. Today was Arthur¡¯s first Moral Philosophy virtual lecture of the year.He was far too hung-overto engage with Moral Philosophy. And what¡¯s worse, Arthur hated virtual classes. He would have much rather have attended in person, but the pandemic had made classes impossibly dangerous - at least en masse. Even though Arthur¡¯s headphones were set to overdrive, he could barely make out any of the words Professor Anderson was saying. All he could hear for certain was the pounding in his head and the muffled sounds of Ginie snoring from the Lunge room, on the other side of his bedroom wall. Arthur particularly despised Professor Anderson¡¯s lecture. Anderson insisted that everyone switch on their camera during lectures to ¡®enhance the educational experience¡¯. The professor¡¯s assistant lecturer and virtual moderator Tim, a senior philosophy tutor, gleefully booted out any student crazy enough to disobey the Professor¡¯s decree. Arthur had himself been kicked from a first year ethics lecture the previous semester, for stepping away from his screen to make a tea. Arthur would have continued his self-pitying reverie when he suddenly noticed a young woman on his screen. The woman, ¡°MG¡± inhabited a small window on the bottom left hand side of his screen. He suddenly forgot about his aching skull, his snoring flat-mate and the droning monotone of the Professor. All he could see was MG. The girl at the bottom left of the screen. Arthur typed urgently into the private chat window. ¡°Stewie, are you seeing this chick?¡± Woosh, his computer sounded as his message made its way to Stuart¡¯s computer. Ding, the reply came back. ¡°Which chick?¡± Stuart responded. ¡°Bottom left¡­Blond Hair¡­Come on man, as if you haven¡¯t noticed her. She¡¯s the most beautiful creature I¡¯ve ever seen¡­Handle is ¡®MG¡¯¡­like the car.¡± Woosh. He waited for a response and when it finally came, the answer surprised him. Ding. ¡°I prefer brunettes mate. And she looks a bit on the tall side¡­Amirite?¡±¡¯ ¡°Cap. U Blind. She¡¯s fire,¡± Arthur responded, vaguely annoyed by Stuart¡¯s dismissive attitude. Arthur turned the annoying sound-notifications to silent. ¡°Have you seen her b4?¡± He continued undeterred. ¡°Na bro,¡± Stuart confirmed. ¡°N E way Arth. I¡¯m trying to catch this lecture. Flunk¡¯d logic and barely scraped through early mod-phil.¡± Stuart wasn¡¯t lying. He had failed Professor Anderson¡¯s Logic course in the summer semester. He wasstruggling through the whole Philosophy program in general. He had chosen it, because Arthur had. He did a lot of things because Arthur did them. Since the lockdowns had begun, the endless string of online virtual-lectures and video-tutorials had created the perfect storm. Stuart didn¡¯t know how to manage without accountability. Without in-person lectures, what was the point of getting up, or having a shower or attending class at all? That was Stuart¡¯s philosophy. That was, until he¡¯d received a call from the Vice Chancellor that he was on the verge of flunking out. Arthur, on the other hand was doing very well. He was a natural. He just didn¡¯t think what he was doing was going to lead him to any sort of a vocation. He had already begun to regret ignoring his father all those years back, who had suggested a solid law degree - before the relationship between himself and his dad had soured. Arthur had the marks to get into anything he wanted, but he was feeling rebellious at the time. Anyway, Arthur thought, there would be plenty of time to change majors. The woman on the bottom left of his screen shifted ever-so-slightly to the left. Arthur tensed. ¡°MG - who are you?¡± He wondered out loud. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. He could feel his face getting hotter, wondering if she could sense his intrusion upon her; if she could sense him. He hoped she was looking at his feed, the same way he was looking at hers. Of course, hope is faith¡¯s poorer cousin. He doubted she would have done more than scanned past his face with complete indifference. There were at least a hundred other participants in the lecture that morning (which was only half of the students actually enrolled to be there). But if she did happen to glance at him, she wouldn¡¯t stop to stare, he thought. Arthur wasn¡¯t ugly, but he wasn¡¯t handsome either. Not conventionally. He was the guy you look through or around. He was the guy you push out of the way to get to the man of your dreams. He self-consciously fiddled with a pen, tapping it against his cheek to make that hollow noise people do when they¡¯re bored. To distract himself from this new state of self-consciousness, Arthur tried to listen to Professor Anderson blither on about aesthetics and axiology, but his mind would not permit it. MG shifted minutely in her chair again, an intense look on her face. Maybe she was watching a YouTube clip about kittens or something, Arthur thought. No one in the University¡¯s history had ever listened to Professor Anderson with that level of concentration, so it couldn¡¯t be that she was focussed on. Arthur tried to concentrate on the lecture. ¡°The beast in us must be wheedled,¡± Professor Anderson droned, ¡°Are we at our core animals, our souls held together by the thinnest ethical tape? Are we endowed with intrinsic morals, and if so by what mechanism?¡± MG¡¯s dark eyes seemed to pierce the electronic veil straight into Arthur¡¯s soul. She stared unblinking. Her chestnut hair was tied back messily, fly-aways caught engrossingly in the morning light, streaming through the window behind her. MG picked up her phone for a moment, playing with it lazily. To Arthur, this simplest of heractions was akin to those of Cleopatra, seductively eating grapes. She had the presence of a queen. She was so self-assured as to give the impression that her most trivial movements were rehearsed, refined, delivered with precision. As MG put the phone down, Arthur caught a glimpse of the screen, and by chance the application she had been using. To his surprise ¨C and if he was being honest complete delight ¨C it was the dating application LTRN, short for Long Term Relationship Now. LTRN was a platform for those who weren¡¯t looking for one night stands, but something more meaningful. Arthur didn¡¯t have LTRN. He had SaySwaav, an application used by college-aged students looking to go on the quicker kind of dates; the ones that usually resulted in inebriation and regret. He could no longer hear the Professor¡¯s words, or see the string of new messages from Stuart who was already asking for Arthur¡¯s class notes. Arthur was downloading the LTRN app to begin the process of finding MG in the real world. It was the only way. He couldn¡¯t just cold message her on the lecture chat like some common sleaze-bag; he needed the two of them to match on LTRN. He needed her to find him, to give him the chance to propose a date in the real world; the world outside of the shower of bits and bytes. One day, he thought, when she told their children stories of their meet-cute, he didn¡¯t want them to hear the words, ¡°He private messaged me on a lecture chat.¡± The first hurdle in finding MG, and half the reason he¡¯d never downloaded the app, was LTRN¡¯s infamous registration process. His room-mate Ginie had spent hours setting up the perfect profile; selecting the right photos, crafting and editing the right words, curating the lists of favourite songs, movies and dining spots just so - to attract the ultimate female. But Ginie was still single. Arther hated selling himself like a commodity on these apps. On SaySwaav he¡¯d just attached a headless-torso shot, showing off his abs ¨C easily his best feature and the string of meaningless encounters followed. LTRN required something more like a sales pitch. It was as stressful as selling real-estate in Sydney, and the stakes in this case were potentially higher. He resented having to sell his soul like this. It was cheap and reductive. But for MG - he would do it. What he really wanted to do was accidentally (on purpose) run into MG at a cafe or the University Library. A real meet-cute. Something she could remember him by. But the lockdown had robbed him of that opportunity too. The app downloaded with a soft haptic throb. Arthur opened the application. He flew through the initial questions with ease. Age, Date, Handle, Weight and so on. But the first real question immediately stumped him. ¡°What good things have past relationships taught me?¡± The first question read. Always have antibiotics at the ready, he thought, chuckling to himself before typing in what he thought the app wanted to hear. ¡°Compromise is the real magic word. Be yourself no matter what and open up your heart without fear or regret.¡± He looked at the words on the screen, imagining what Stuart would say if he saw them. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn¡¯t have time to consider the social repercussions and potential embarrassment. He just needed an active profile now, so he could find MG. He pressed accept and moved on to the next question, and the next, and the next. ¡°What do I want to accomplish in the next five years?¡± ¡°What is your favourite book and why?¡± ¡°Describe your dream date?¡± He entered each response with as much detail as he could in the time he had, until finally he¡¯d completed the profile. Twenty Minutes, he thought. Not bad. He pressed send and it was done. He was live. His profile, his photos, his thoughts, his dreams, all available for anyone to read. ¡°Bro¡­bro¡­bro. Hellllllllo?¡± He looked up at the screen to see the was lecture over, and his chat-screen the only one still visible, besides Stuart¡¯s. ¡°Damn,¡± he said. ¡°I missed the whole thing.¡± ¡°Sorry Stewie. I got distracted. Will send ya my notes - for what that¡¯s worth¡­¡± he typed. ¡°Thanx bro. You know the Prof asked you a question right? But you got lucky though. The blonde chick jumped in and saved ya. Hahaha.¡± Arthur looked at the screen incredulously. MG had saved him? Why? Dah Dah, the LTRN app sounded. He looked down at his screen to see an auto-generated message from LTRN. The message was accompanied by a small thumb-nail portrait of the sender, who the message was from. The thumbnail, though small, was very clearly, and beyond all of his hopes, the girl from the bottom left of his screen. MG. The blond. The girl with the dark piercing eyes who had saved him from embarrassment. ¡°You¡¯ve been matched with Madeline^^^. Do you wish to Match back?¡± The screen read. Hell yes. Hell yes. Hell yes. I would love to match with Madeline. He had never pressed a virtual button so quickly. Star -Crossed 13 July, 2023 - Ginie Russo and Arthur Velnias in the Lounge-room of their shared house on Sycamore street, right after the lecture at which Arthur first sees Madeline ¡°Gin! I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re feeling like shit, I need to talk,¡± Arthur proclaimed bravely. Ginie raised her head and groaned in annoyance. Her eyes were still glued together by sleep and her skin was grey and sweaty. Her mouth hung open, and the smell of cheap vodka seeped out with every shallow breath. She swallowed hard, and raised herself up on one elbow for just long enough to show she was listening. ¡°Mmm wha?¡± She droned. ¡°I downloaded LTRN. What do I do now?¡± ¡°Wha?¡± she closed her eyes, terribly near to losing her ongoing battle with nausea. ¡°Ge¡¯me a glass of water, an¡¯ like four headache pills,¡± she delivered croakily. ¡°No. Make it ice-tea.¡± Arthur hurried off to fetch both items from their poky kitchen; the price for Ginie¡¯s assistance. He returned to her, handing over a bottled ice-tea from the fridge, alongside a couple of Headeez tablets and his iPhone. ¡°What¡¯am I looking at Arth?¡± She asked, swallowing the tablets with a gulp of the bitter-sweet brew. ¡°Do you want the long or the short version?¡± He asked, standing at a respectful distance from her. ¡°You look wrecked by the way.¡± ¡°I hate you for giving me tequila. I worry that you¡¯re trying to kill me,¡± she joked, taking another sip of the tea and cringing at the welcome bitterness. It dribbled down her chin and onto the couch. ¡°Sit up Gin, you¡¯re making a mess.¡± ¡°If you love me, you¡¯d kill me. This hang-over is punishment.¡± ¡°I need you alive for at least a few minutes more.¡± ¡°So come on,¡± she begged. ¡°Give me the short version.¡± ¡°This morning¡¯s lecture. Beautiful girl. She found me on LTRN. I need you to tell me what to say to her so that I don¡¯t freak her out, bore her or scare her away.¡± ¡°Even though I definitely can¡¯t take the long version Arth,¡± she said, the tea smoothing her edginess, ¡°I think I need a little more information than that.¡± Arthur smiled, and sat down beside Ginie, leaning his head against her leg like a needy puppy. ¡°Ok Ginie - I¡¯ll give you the short version of the long version. Here goes. I was in a Philosophy lecture this morning. Very mundane - Professor Anderson¡¯s class. I am barely conscious from the boredom, when this girl pops into the lecture. I¡¯ve never seen her before. Moral Philosophy is a second-year class, so I should know her right? Maybe she¡¯s new - transferred in from another college or something. I don¡¯t know. So, while I was sort of watching her screen I caught that she was on LTRN¡­¡± ¡°Bro - this is sounding a little stalky¡­I don¡¯t know whether to alert the police or listen to the rest of the story.¡± ¡°Yeah fair - it¡¯s not my finest moment. But I downloaded LTRN anyway and like literally the second my profile is live, bam this girl matches me.¡± ¡°So you got picked-up by some chick on the internet. What do you need to hear from me - or,¡± she continued sarcastically, clearing her throat, ¡°more to the point - what¡¯s the urgency to wake up a woman quietly suffering through her own personal hell?¡± ¡°Ginie. You and I both know that no one knows women like a lesbian knows women.¡± ¡°Hmm. On this point you are entirely correct,¡± she lifted herself into the seated position pushing Arthur away from her. Even though she was in a sitting, she kept her head low, taking a pair of his sunglasses from the coffee table, and placing them over her sensitive eyes. ¡°How may the master assist?¡± She said, still struggling. ¡°I want a guaranteed date Gin. This girl is perfect. I mean she looks amazing, but it¡¯s more than that. It was like staring into the tangle of energy at the centre of a nebula - there is something transcendent about Madeline. Give me the words not to screw this up please. You know I¡¯m a complete shit-show when it comes to real dates with real women.¡± ¡°Do you want the words, which may help¡± she smiled the best smile she could under the circumstances, ¡°¡­or do you want the cards?¡± ¡°Ohh, that¡¯s seriously tempting,¡± he looked at Gin dead-on, hoping that this meant, after all these many months, another legendary Ginie Russo Tarot card reading. ¡°Gin - I want the cards and the words to say to her.¡± Desperation crept into his eyes. ¡°You selfish bitch.¡± ¡°I am so desperate and so selfish - you got me dead to rights.¡± ¡°No. Desperation is not enough. Say ¡°I¡¯m a pathetic loser and I would be dateless and alone without you.¡±¡± ¡°Is that what it will take?¡± He asked, a crooked smile belying his understanding of this game of theirs. ¡°Yes. I want you to admit you¡¯re a loser, and I want one of your secret-stash cigars.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a high price Ginie,¡± he considered, thinking about MG¡¯s face, and the ineffable feeling she caused inside of him after only 20 minutes of a video-call. ¡°Fine Gin, I¡¯m a pathetic loser and I would be alone and sad without you.¡± ¡°Close enough. Go get me a cigar bitch-boy and I¡¯ll grab my cards.¡± She went to stand, but quickly reconsidered as the blood rushed away from her head into her feet. She dry-heaved, and sat down again. ¡°While you¡¯re up, you can get the cards and I¡¯ll try not to puke,¡± she said seriously. Arthur ran into his room, careful to close the door behind him. He grabbed a cigar from a box of cigars under a loose floorboard, replacing the board quietly to conceal it from any future raids. Then he ran into Ginie¡¯s room, grabbing her cards from her bedside table, next to the memorial photo of Clara, Ginie¡¯s former girlfriend. It had been almost a year since they¡¯d lost her. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. He placed the cigar onto the coffee table, cleared some junk aside with a single swipe of his forearm, and sat back down beside her with a heavy thump. He placed the Tarot cards into Ginie¡¯s waiting hands. She kissed the box, and removed the cards with care. She treated those cards better than most people, he thought. Maybe even better than him. She gave the deck a quick, firm tap at their centre and then shuffled them softly and methodically, like they were made of the finest silk. She laid the cards onto the table in a single pile and said a few incomprehensible words in Latin. ¡°Touch the top ofthe deck,¡± she said to Arthur. ¡°Just a single finger, right in the centre. That¡¯s how your fortune carries into the cards.¡± Arthur nodded at these familiar words. ¡°Into her arms.¡± This was a rare moment indeed in their little household. Arthur, Ginie and - back when she was still alive - Clara, had lived together since Arthur was just 17 years old - it had been 3 years since he moved out. Arthur was now 20 and in all their time living together, Ginie had only brought the cards out for him on four occasions. These occasions were punctuated by an important moment in his life. The first of those important moments was when Arthur had landed on her doorstep three years ago crying and lost, like a wounded animal looking for a cave to die in.He had left home at the beginning of year twelve. His father had kicked him out of his home for abandoning the Church. The next moment was when Arthur had achieved a score of 98 percent in his University entrance rank and needed guidance on what course to take, and where. This was followed by the reading Ginie did when Clara was on her death bed ¨C and it foretold the demise of her lover and one of his closest friends. Finally, and the last time, had been six months ago, when his mother, Roberta, had died and he¡¯d never gotten a chance to speak with her before it happened. Cancer of course. ¡°Are you sure you want to read for me now? Maybe it¡¯s not a good time - maybe this is too trivial¡­I dunno, maybe like not significant enough.¡± She looked around the room, like she was trying to find something hidden in the corners. She reached for a pack of cigarettes she had jammed into one of her pockets, retrieved one, and placed it softly between her lips. She sniffed the air, turning from side to side to collect as much of the atmosphere around her as she could. She lit the cigarette and took a long drag. ¡°No. This is the right time,¡± she commanded. ¡°There¡¯s something ancient in the air this morning. Something like magic and electricity. I don¡¯t know how to describe it, but it feels like an earlier time. There is solidity and permanence all around us ¡­ You know? Wood, steel, earth - that kind of thing.¡± She drew three cards from the top of the deck, and laid them face down on the table. Taking Arthur¡¯s hand, she placed one of his fingers on each card, card by card, and said something inaudible; a chant, a call to something higher perhaps. Arthur wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°The cards have spoken through me. Today they represent the journey, the challenge and the future. This is the balance of your reading.¡± She turned the first card to reveal The Hermit. On the card¡¯s face, an ancient man, stands at the top of a hill, his hood lifted against the relentless winds of adversity. The old man carries a lantern, with a five-pointed star - the inverted pentacle - at its centre. The Hermit¡¯s grey beard is heavy with toil and fatigue. ¡°To be completely honest Arthur, this isn¡¯t a good start,¡± she laughed. Arthur stiffened, ¡°Why? That card looks pretty harmless to me.¡± ¡°Well, yes and no.The Hermit is the symbol for wisdom-attained. So that¡¯s good. But his lantern is lit by the ethereal light of nature. That¡¯s bad. It¡¯s the heretic¡¯s light¡­the pagan light. It¡¯s amoral and carnal. And it¡¯s not something certain or sure - it¡¯s like a torch, that only illuminates the next few steps.¡± ¡°So the journey is uncertain?¡± ¡°It¡¯s more like the journey is unknowable and treacherous, and you will receive no guidance.¡± ¡°Cool cool. Understood.¡± ¡°I think we need to move on to the next card then,¡± she said. ¡°This next one will give further context to the journey card, by clarifying the challenge you will face on your way.¡± She turned the first card to reveal The Devil. The card showed a winged beast sitting upon a thrown, an inverted pentagram above his head. At the foot of the devil a naked man and woman stand, loose chains around their necks and arms. The man and the woman have small horns on their heads, signifying their fall from God¡¯s grace and their corrupted spirits. ¡°Umm¡­¡± she laughed. ¡°One more like this and you may have to lock yourself in your room forever mate.¡± ¡°What is it? What does it mean?¡± He asked. ¡°Well,¡± she said, drawing out the thought for a few seconds. ¡°It¡¯s raw animalism dude. As a challenge card, this could mean so many things,¡± at this she exhaled loudly, straightening in her seat, trying to find the words. ¡°Without trying to sound too metaphysical here - the devil card is sort of saying that the shell of expectation, of rules and laws and righteousness¡­I guess what you might call the ¡®ought to do¡¯, is paper thin. The devil card is about revealing what sordid things are really inside of us, and the ones we love. What would we ¨C or anyone else ¨C do if there were no rules or barriers, but the ones we choose.¡± ¡°What would I do with no rules aye?¡± Arthur laughed. ¡°No comment.¡± ¡°Yeah, please don¡¯t comment ¨C I have a weak stomach and the last thing I need to hear about is your dirty fantasies.¡± She turned the last card. The future card, and when it was revealed both Arthur and Ginie gasped. On the card, Death - a magnificent skeleton, armour clad, sat atop a white horse. Death carried a standard, the five petal rose, the symbol of death and rebirth and of change in his clawed hand. ¡°Ha,¡± Ginie whispered quietly, frowning at no one in particular. ¡°These were Clara¡¯s cards. I read her the night after we first met. Do you remember? It was at that record-store in the city. Red Eye I think. We were the real star-crossed lovers,¡± she said frowning. ¡°A forbidden love for the ages.¡± ¡°You two were the best,¡± he said, resting an arm on her shoulder. ¡°Death is a good card on it¡¯s own for sure,¡± she continued, not wanting to cry. ¡°But just to be clear Arthur this combination of cards aren¡¯t great man. I mean, these are an objectively shitty grouping.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°So no chance with Madeline then?¡± ¡°Just the opposite. These cards are strongly in favour of shameless, reckless, carnal, desire,¡± she laughed. ¡°This chick is going to test the living hell out of you. She wants you badly, but she is going to lead you astray, and there are no weapons in your arsenal against her. Like me and Clara right? She caught me off-guard, and I was powerless to stop her, but what a ride man.¡± He could not help but smile at this turn of events. ¡°This relationship will mean everything to you. It will divert you from what you now consider sacred. It will buckle your defences and leave you exposed like a cracked tooth. You don¡¯t need any words from me Arth. Just be yourself. You¡¯re the one she wants. It¡¯s already done.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Both seriously - and unbelievably. Like, honestly, what the hell is wrong with a girl who would pine this deeply for Arthur-friken-Velnias.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve still got it,¡± Arthur joked, rubbing knuckles against shoulder. ¡°You know I dreamt of her two nights back,¡± Ginie continued. ¡°Who, Madeline?¡± ¡°Arthur, how do you survive in this world from day to day with an intellect like yours? How could I have had a dream about a person you told me about for the first time 10 minutes ago?¡± Arthur withered sheepishly at his stupid comment. ¡°I saw Clara in a dream. Not Madeline. It was so real - you know, like it was a movie in my skull. We were on the old couch; the one we chucked out a while back. She was lying on top of me in that annoying way she used to; heavy and stiff like a corpse.¡± Arthur didn¡¯t know what to say, so he just nodded turning to watch Ginie¡¯s face, but she was looking at the floor. ¡°Clara was whispering something to me. I couldn¡¯t hear her properly. I could just hear bits and pieces at first, but I remember she was talking to me about you. Ha,¡± she thought, suddenly realising something important. ¡°Shit man - She was passing on a message. Damn. I totally forgot.¡± ¡°A message?¡± He enquired. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense to me, and I didn¡¯t catch all of it. But she told me to tell you, What reflects, conceals.¡± He snorted, not sure how to react. ¡°What does that mean Gin?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it doesn¡¯t mean anything, but at the time it felt so strong. Like¡­I dunno,¡± she blushed slightly ¡°¡­powerful. We were getting hot an heavy in the dream, and she like stops, and says: Tell, Arthur, what reflects conceals.¡± Arthur nodded unsure how to react. ¡°So there you have it Arthur. The cards have spoken.¡± Attic-Window 13 years earlier 15 June, 2013 - Arthur, Stuart and Ginie discuss Buffy: The Vampire Slayer at a sleep-over at the Russo household on Elm Street ¡°It¡¯s 10:20 . you guys! Don¡¯t make me have to ask you again!¡± Mrs Russo exclaimed from the hallway, just outside of Ginie¡¯s room. This was the second warning, and Mrs Russo¡¯s voice had now pitched a whole octave higher, and was threatening to go ultrasonic if Ginie didn¡¯t start complying ASAP. After years of sleeping over at Ginie¡¯s, Arthur knew the closer Mrs Russo got to dog-whistle-pitch, the worse the row would become. Arthur hated awkward Russo-family arguments, because this was his escape from Velnias family arguments - which were admittedly worse. ¡°Ginie darling,¡± Mrs Russo said, squeezing the word darling through clenched teeth. ¡°I have been very generous and patient in letting you stay up an extra hour past your bed-time. But mum and dad have temple. Don¡¯t make me cancel future sleep-overs little lady.¡± This last threat was emptier than the rest. Mrs Russo and her husband were real push-overs. But Ginie knew, 10:20 was a red-line, in a household with a dearth of rules. Temple above all else, that¡¯s how it was. Ginie¡¯s mum came over and switched the Blu-Ray player off with a single click, ending their Buffy: The Vampire Slayer marathon for the evening. This simple, and unexpectedly abrupt action was more than any of them could take. To their immature minds, it was a complete violation. Ginie growled like her old family-dog Bubba, but her mother ignored her. Arthur and Stuart stood up, their mouths quite literally agape at the injustice of this world. ¡°Come on the three of you, go brush your teeth, and get into your jammies.¡± ¡°Mum,¡± Ginie protested. ¡°You can¡¯t just turn off the friken Gingerbread episode halfway through. It¡¯s not cool.¡± Mrs Russo took no notice of the loose language, and pushed on regardless. ¡°Your father and I have eight minutes to start Temple and we will not be late missy.¡± ¡°But mum!¡± Arthur and Stuart nodded furiously from behind Ginie, in a sort of silent demonstration of solidarity. Arthur was normally rule-oriented, and would not have shown the slightest cheek, especially not to someone else¡¯s mum. But even he had to admit that prematurely ceasing a masterpiece like Gingerbread halfway-through was definitely some sort of crime. And what¡¯s worse, Mrs Russo had cut it off right before his favourite part, where Giles reveals the reason this week¡¯s demons had attacked Sunny Dale in the first place. Of course, Arthur knew exactly what Giles would say ¨C word for word ¨C but it was somehow different when the lines came from the mouth of the very British Librarian himself. ¡°Ginie Thania Jane Russo, if you talk back one more time. If even a single sound escapes that big mouth of yours; heavens help you missy.¡± Ginie knew the jig was up. She stormed off to the bathroom, with Arthur and Stuart close behind. The three of them brushed their teeth, still small enough to use the same bathroom mirror simultaneously. As they brushed, and spat and dribbled and laughed they soon forgot their grievances and were once again deeply engaged in their recurring debates about which was the better House, Slytherin or Gryffindor. They only ceased their Potter-conversation prematurely because Arthur and Stuart had to get changed into their pyjamas in the bedroom, while Ginie changed in the bathroom. They reconvened moments later in Ginie¡¯s room and Mrs Russo joined them just in time to tuck Ginie in to bed. Arthur and Stuart crawled into each of their sleeping bags and zipped themselves in. The sleeping bags were propped up on thin mattresses to give them a comfortable barrier from the cold, hard wooden floor. Mrs Russo lent in and gave each of the boys a quick peck on the forehead, and then joined her husband at the door. ¡°Night children,¡± Mr Russo said, smiling broadly and turning off the light. ¡°No late night wanderings you guys. Stick to the present, and avoid the Astral Plane. You¡¯re too young for that sort of thing,¡± he chuckled deeply. ¡°May Goddess Hekat protect you all from evil dreams, and protect this household too,¡± Mrs Russo continued. ¡°Into her arms,¡± Ginie replied, embarrassed as usual by her parents¡¯ evident otherness. Her mum turned-out the bedroom light and closed the door behind her, leaving a crack open so that the light from the hall could seep in. Ginie was still scared of the dark and who could blame her, Arthur thought. Ginie truly and deeply held to the occult and all the things that go bump in the night. She held that the world was inhabited by ghosts, ghouls, dybbuks, fairies, goblins, dragons and gin; just to name a few. She even claimed (largely in hushed tones) to have seen more than a couple of those things in the waking world, including right here in this room. A dark room full of tasty kids was the perfect snack for a wandering monster. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Arthur¡¯s family on the other hand were, for want of a better term, very Christian. Even if Arthur was interested in Ginie¡¯s pagan world, the Velnias¡¯ God didn¡¯t tolerate competition. Arthur would have loved to in habit a Universe were the events of Buffy or Charmed or any other of his favourite shows was a tangible reality. But his father had instructed him, at the end of a belt, that the only thing Arthur had to fear was the Lord God ¨C the one and only, big man in the clouds. And bad boys like Arthur would end up in the H - E - double hockey sticks, if he didn¡¯t realise that, and soon. ¡°Boys,¡± Gin whispered from the bed, ¡°what¡¯s your favourite episode of Buffy?¡± This was a trap of course, but both Arthur and Stuart were too proud to bend even slightly from their firmly held views on this topic. ¡°Hush - Hush and Hush.¡± Arthur genuinely loved the Hush episode. At the ripe old age of ten years, Arthur had never seen anything so clever in his life. A whole show where none of the actors could speak a word! That was something to behold. But there was no challenge, great or small, that the Scooby gang could not conquer. They still managed towork together to solve the mystery of the Gentleman. But what he really admired about that episode, was that Giles, Buffy, Willow and Xander learned to communicate without words. He loved the idea of a group of strangers, who formed a family. That¡¯s what they Scooby gang were, a family of friends when you didn¡¯t have a family of your own to lean on. That¡¯s what he had with Stewie and Gin. Stuart didn¡¯t hesitate to agree with Arthur about Hush, and said so loudly and proudly. ¡°Sorry Ginie, but Hush is way better than you know what.¡± Ginie gasped in mock surprise. Though she didn¡¯t need to say it, Ginie jumped in to advise the boys that the best episode ever made was Villains. Gin thought Willow was the most beautiful and powerful being anywhere in the Universe. Even greater than the Gods of her parents. Even back then, there was no doubt Gin preferred girls, and she would openly cry when Tara died. Every time. Without fail. ¡°No,¡± Stuart argued. ¡°Hush is the best.¡± ¡°Na,¡± she said, relaxing into bed. ¡°Villains. Full stop. No returns. The end. What Willow does when Tara dies - that¡¯s what love is. And that¡¯s why we¡¯re watching Villains first next weekend,¡± she said forcefully. ¡°My house, my rules.¡± Both Arthur and Stuart groaned, but this was the only place they could consume their favourite show and if the price was watching Villains for the hundredth time, they would gladly pay it. Before long it would be time to restart the Angel series anyway. So they would get a rest from Angry Willow flaying Warren over and over again. They chatted about Buffy for a while longer, and then after a time, the conversation moved to the subject of school. It made its winding way through familiar topics; the English Teacher Mr Matther¡¯s lisp, the rising cost of sausage rolls at the Canteen, and how third-year Josh Petit had just been dumped for the second time by his now ex-girlfriend and class captain Jenny Bifaga. The conversation lulled, and then finally ceased when Ginie (first) and then Stuart drifted into their own quiet and peaceful dreams. Arthur lay in silence for an hour, fixated on the row of crystals lined up upon the window-sill. The little transparent rocks filtered the bright moonlight and painted the ceiling brilliantly in every imaginable colour. As he watched, he listened to the familiar sounds coming from Mr and Mrs Russo¡¯s temple in the attic just above his head. The end of temple had become as familiar a sound to Arthur as the Lords Prayer; he¡¯d heard these sounds almost every weekend since he was 4 years old, except for those times he or Ginie had been on vacation. The conclusion of temple began with a mournful a cappella chant, delivered in a series of deep, binaural breaths and incantations. He could hear Mr Russo¡¯s voice repeating the same sounds over and over again but he could never make out specific words. Even though he could not divine their meaning, the sounds of their voices, and the ritual they conducted were healing to him in some inexplicable way. After a time the noises from the attic ceased too. He could hear Mr and Mrs Russo packing things away or moving them around. He liked to imagine what must be happening up in the attic. He wondered if they wore robes like Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings, or Dumbledore in Harry Potter.He heard them make their way downstairs, and not long after he heard them settling into bed. They would be asleep soon and the whole house would be his. He waited for around ten minutes and then called quietly to his friends. ¡°Gin¡­Stewie¡­are you awake?¡± He whispered. Neither of them answered him. He could hear them both breathing heavily in the way sound sleepers do. Arthur pulled himself out of his sleeping bag careful not to make a sound.He pushed the door open, walked a few meters to the landing, and then crept up the stairs to the attic, his small feet cold against the polished wooden stairs. The attic door was closed, but not locked. He carefully pushed it open, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. This hadn¡¯t been the first time Arther had climbed these same stairs into the sparse, and empty Attic space. He had done so for the first time last week, and had promised to do so again tonight. He stood in the vast room, suddenly feeling small and insignificant. Moonlight streamed into the attic through a large oculus window, which was, like its name implied, an open eye out onto the street - or from another point of view, into the Russo¡¯s home. The window was situated perfectly at the vertical and horizontal centre of the Western face of the house. It had a diameter of more than a meter, making it one of the largest attic windows in the whole neighbourhood. Rather than the ordinary wheel-shaped glazing bars common to a house of this era ¨C with spokes radiating from the centre outwards ¨C The Russo¡¯s attic window had curved bars which created delicate arcs, in the pattern of a spider¡¯s web, that cast strange little shadows on the floor around his feet. The moonlight and the shadows created a dazzling border around a beautiful hand-drawn pentacle, painted with the strokes of a careful hand, right in the centre of the attic floor. Each point of the beautiful five-pointed star, was dotted with a mound of red wax. Last time it had been an accident that he had stepped into the star. This time he took a deliberate step inside knowing that it would have the same result either way. It did. The image of a girl appeared in the window, as real as the breath in his lungs. This was the second time he had seen her in as many weeks. Her reflection bobbed in mid-air from within the window-glass. She was not in front of it, or behind it, but seemed to live within the glass. There was something about the girl in the Attic Window that Arthur couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on. Liquorice-Midnight 15 June, 2013 - Arthur and the window-girl learn more about each other in the Attic room, at the Russo house on Elm Street while the family sleep ¡°Hey again you,¡± the otherworldly girl said. Her translucent image smiled back at Arthur from across the room, and from within the oculus window. ¡°Hi Leelu¡± Arthur responded, wringing his hands together more nervously than the last time. ¡°You came back,¡± Leelu said, deeply pleased to see him. Her reflection bobbed, seemingly in mid-air. Leelu had the most engrossing skin, which was as black and lustrous as beetles wings in the sun. Liquorice, Melanite, Obsidian, Midnight. She was more beautiful than anyone he¡¯d ever seen in his whole short life. ¡°You didn¡¯t finish your story from last time,¡± She reminded him. Leelu smiled and twirled around, her long black hair whipping through the air in accordance with the laws of some other dimension. Her eyes were black too, but kind, deep and all-knowing. Though he could not see anything below where he would imagine her belly button might be, she wore a gown of some sort, which twinkled like the stars. ¡°Why do you care about my boring story?¡± Arthur asked genuinely curious. ¡°We don¡¯t have Nin-ten-dough-wee where I live,¡± she said, trying to recall the exact sounds of the words he¡¯d used to describe his game. ¡°We don¡¯t really have much in the way of fun.¡± ¡°Where are you from?¡± Arthur asked, making sure to stay within the confines of the circle so that the girl in the glass would not disappear again. She laughed at the question. ¡°Well it¡¯s sort of like a kingdom here. There are a lot of mountains, and fires, and trees and other boring stuff. We have to stay here though coz my dad is kinda important, but really strict.¡± ¡°My dad is strict too, because he doesn¡¯t want me to get God mad,¡± he said rolling his eyes. She laughed loudly. ¡°Why are dad¡¯s like that? So annoying. Everyone is so serious here - they forget to like, I dunno¡­have a life or whatever.¡± They both laughed at this, because it was true and they were both unable to control the world of adults. ¡°Have you ever heard of Super Mario Brothers?¡± He enquired thoughtfully. ¡°No, I am not familiar with these brothers. Are they heroes in your world?¡± Arthur laughed innocently. Leelu crossed her arms in mock annoyance. ¡°Na,¡± he said, ¡°it¡¯s a game where this little guy with a moustache has to save the princess of Mushroom Kingdom from the evil King of the Koopas, a monster named Bowser. And if you finish the game, Mario saves the princess, defeats Bowser and that¡¯s sort of it.¡± ¡°And what is this Princess¡¯s name?¡± ¡°She¡¯s called Princess Peach.¡± At this she turned up her nose and curled her upper lip. This, she thought, was a stupid name for a princess. Someone of high office should have a name befitting their title. ¡°A princess, named after mortal-stone-fruit?¡± she asked sarcastically. ¡°That need-be saved by a little moustachioed man? She does not sound very brave for a princess.¡± ¡°I guess not,¡± he admitted. ¡°Well in the newer games, she gets to be a hero too, and you can play her character.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± she said considering this notion. ¡°And what of the other brother ¨C Is he a coward?¡± ¡°Luigi? Well, he¡¯s a little less brave than Mario. But he steps up when his brother needs him.¡± ¡°In my Kingdom, a princess is as fierce a warrior as any prince, or two-type. We never need saving, especially not by men with unfashionable facial hair.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the name of your Kingdom?¡± He asked with genuine interest. Leelu stopped speaking suddenly. She knew she could not speak the name of her kingdom to an outsider. In a way, she had already said too much to Arthur. She had trusted him from the first time they¡¯d met, for reasons beyond her youthful comprehension. But to reveal the name of her Kingdom would be a catastrophe not even her father would be able to undo. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°I¡¯m not really allowed to say,¡± she said - the inky darkness of her eyes filling with a sudden sadness. ¡°That¡¯s ok. We can give it a code-name that only you and me know. ¡°That¡¯s a perfect idea,¡± she beamed back at him. ¡°What do you propose Arthur?¡± ¡°How about¡­¡± he said, his eyes landing, after a time, where his feet currently stood, upon the pentacle at the centre of the room. ¡°How about Star Kingdom.¡± ¡°I love it Arthur. It¡¯s a beautiful name,¡± she tried the name out. ¡°Star Kingdom. It¡¯s great, though we can¡¯t see the stars in my kingdom, but we send warriors to harvest their brilliance to light our halls.¡± Arthur was suddenly embarrassed for reasons he could not fathom. Maybe it was the way she looked into him. Without knowing quite why, he had an insatiable urge to change the topic of conversation as quickly as he could. ¡°Umm¡­so¡­You know what I love more than Nintendo?¡± His voice cracked slightly as he asked this. ¡°No, tell me what do you love more than your games?¡± ¡°Buffy: The Vampire Slayer,¡± he offered quicker than he meant to. ¡°You must have Buffy in your kingdom?¡± ¡°Is this another hero game?¡± ¡°Well no. It¡¯s a television show.¡± She looked at him, her head cocked to one side in the universal language of confusion. ¡°A Television is like a machine where you can see¡­like actors, acting on a screen. But there are lots of actors, doing lots of shows and you can pick the ones you like.¡± ¡°A box with actors inside? Is your kingdom a cruel place?¡± ¡°No. Well¡­the actors aren¡¯t inside of the box. They are recorded on cameras and played back¡­well it¡¯s hard to explain. Buffy is a story¡­like a play¡­ about a girl, who is super strong and her friends go around killing vampires.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± She said. ¡°She sounds like a gruesome warrior.¡± ¡°Na, she¡¯s great. Buffy and her gang of friends live on top of this gateway to hell, called the Hell Mouth, and they pretty much guard the world from demons and people like that. And it¡¯s not just one story¡­there¡¯s like a new story every week, with the same characters in different situations.¡± He could see that he was losing Leelu. The topic of Buffy would have to wait for another day when he could get his head around explaining what Buffy was, and what it meant to him. ¡°Do you have any favourite stories?¡± He asked hoping to get the conversation back on track. Leelu thought for a minute about this. There were so many stories in her world worthy of this title. No one had ever asked her to pick one from the hundreds of stories that made up the pantheon of her experience. ¡°Well¡­I guess my favourite play, if one could so be chosen, is the Ode to a Flower Seized. It is not like your Buffy. The story is long, but there is only one of them. But while there is only the one tale, it is told in many ways and it changes over time depending on who tells it. The characters change, as do the places, the victims - everyone really. Sometimes the Flower falls in love with her kidnapper; sometimes she runs away; sometimes the gods help her; other times they assist in her kidnapping. It¡¯s very funny most of the time,¡± she beamed. ¡°I mean. I am not actually allowed to watch stories like this at my age,¡± she said, looking away. ¡°But sometimes my cousins tell me about the stories, because they say I should see how things used to be. Anyway, that story is quite entertaining and very ancient. It was conceived a long time ago to make people scared of Us, and then we took it on as our own and changed it.¡± ¡°Maybe one day I can watch it with you.¡± ¡°Oh yes - I¡¯d love that. But we would both have to be older I think.¡± she twirled again. ¡°So, do you go to school?¡± She looked at him for a second time, with an air of complete confusion. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Well, It¡¯s like where you go to learn things. It¡¯s where you learn English, and Science, and Maths,¡± he said this last word like he had just chewed on a raw lemon peel. ¡°Well we don¡¯t have shkool,¡± she said, trying this new word out for the first time. ¡°But I do spend most of my days in training with my brother in many fields. We learn morality and ethics, combat and Philosophy ¡­¡± she said, trying to capture the breadth of her duties in a few words. ¡°That sounds better than school¡­whatever Philophosy is.¡±He laughed. For a moment she seemed to want to say something but stopped herself. Arthur fidgeted in place, wringing his hands together again. He wondered if he had said something wrong - he was always to blame when things got awkward. After a minute or so, in the long but not entirely uncomfortable silence, Leelu finally turned back to him and asked a question that was lingering in her mind since they¡¯d met a week before. ¡°Arthur,¡± she asked looking at him. ¡°Do you have a girlfriend?¡± A redness somehow seemed to colour her dark cheeks, and the feathers which framed the borders of her face flared out, but settled back into their original positions quickly. ¡°You¡¯re friend Ginie maybe?¡± She prodded. At first Arthur was too embarrassed to give and answer. His mouth gaped open and hung there like the fool he felt. But then, his young mind rounded on a response that seemed to make sense to him. ¡°Well, I¡¯m only 10,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t really like any girls like that yet. But Mr Russo says that one day I¡¯ll wake up and just like that. Someone special will catch my eye and my heart.¡± He was quoting directly and it showed in the look on Leelu¡¯s face. ¡°Me too,¡± she lied. ¡°Plus anyway, Gin likes girls, not boys.¡± ¡°Oh yes - my brother likes boys and girls and is now betrothed to a two-type. My brother is so handsome, everyone wants him to be their husband,¡± she stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. Arthur had no idea what a two-type was, or what betrothed meant, but he did not wish to be rude so he nodded broadly and smiled. ¡°Do you have a boyfriend?¡± he asked, looking at the floor. ¡°Na¡­my dad said I can have one when I¡¯m queen.¡± ¡°How long until that happens?¡± Arthur asked, too keenly. She giggled as though Arthur was the only person in the whole cosmos who didn¡¯t have the answer to this very obvious question. ¡°When my wings come in obviously,¡± she said cryptically. ¡°Can we be friends when you¡¯re a queen?¡± ¡°Oh yes Arthur. I hope so.¡± Net-Meet 14 July, 2023 - It¡¯s Tuesday. Arthur logs onto LTRN while making Breakfast. Arthur and Madeline chat online and arrange to meet in person. Arthur woke from a dream. A nightmare. His father, Phillip Velnias, had been saying something to him. Screaming something pointed and eviscerating. Screaming with the righteous indignation of a Godly man. But the exact words were already evaporating as Arthur roused ¨C like a puddle in the summer sun ¨C leaving in its wake a heavy, but vague feeling something like bitterness and resentment. The feeling faded just as quickly as it came, and was replaced by the mere impression of the man his father had been to him when he was younger; the disciplinarian, the violent authoritarian, the hypocrite. But these were just words; two dimensional words for a three dimensional bastard. As Arthur opened his eyes, the sun registering in its full intensity, all that remained of the dream was like static electricity in the distant wake of a violent storm long-passed. Arthur pulled himself out of bed, leaving behind him tangled sheets dampened by sweat. The room outside of his blankets was cold, and puffs of steam emerged from his mouth with every breath as he stretched into the morning. After a series of comically loud yawns, Arthur pulled on a University of Sydney hoodie, a pair of threadbare Adidas tracksuit pants, and two novelty hello-kitty slippers that Stuart had purchased for him for his last birthday. He loudly padded his way out of his room, through the hall, past the living room and into the kitchen. ¡°Coffee, stat.¡± He said to no one too loudly as he filled the kettle with water. Struggling to fill it against the mountain of dirty dishes. ¡°Make me one too!¡± Ginie screamed. Her disembodied voice weaved its way from her bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchenette. She was obviously feeling a lot better than she had yesterday, Arthur thought. Her lung capacity was sure back. Knock Knock Knock came the angry thuds from behind the wall. Apartment 203. Ms Valentina hated to be disturbed in the morning, and she didn¡¯t mind letting the two delinquents from 204 know it. ¡°Yes Ginie - Coffee coming up your majesty,¡± he yelled. ¡°Thanks!¡± She screamed. Transylvanian Concubine by Rasputina began to play from Ginie¡¯s room, the thick sounds of electric guitar filling the space around him. Ms Valentina replied from next-door with familiar form. Knock Knock Knock While he waited for the kettle to boil, Arthur checked his phone, scrolling deftly to the last screen ¨C the one furthest from the Home Screen ¨C where the LTRN application lived. The notification bubble above the application icon showed three messages were waiting for him. His heart skipped. That number of notifications could mean three messages from Madeline, or a new message from three separate matches (and none from Madeline), or any combination of the two. Arthur thumbed the app open and clicked the notification icon, his pulse drumming in time with Ms Valentina¡¯s annoyed knocking. He clicked on MG¡¯s avatar. There were three new messages waiting to be read. ¡°Hey Arthur.¡± ¡°I thought we could ¡°meet¡± online tomorrow morning. How about Messenger? I¡¯ve added you there already.¡± ¡°A prelude to the real thing I guess.¡± The cards have spoken, thought Arthur. Those had been Ginie¡¯s words during their card reading less than twenty four hours prior. You¡¯re the one she wants. It¡¯s already done. Despite his best efforts, Arthur found himself wondering what his father would have to say about his life. About his string of meaningless hookups. About his heathen lifestyle. About the share-house on the edge of a city; philosophy and not the seminary; a string of meaningless encounters; and friends his father would sooner spit on than talk to. Arthur tried to push these thoughts away or relegate them to the back of his mind. But he knew that never worked. The pervasive thoughts - Ginie¡¯s term not his - were the thoughts of the young Arthur. The Arthur who was too scared to be anything but what his father wanted. The Arthur whose genuine self - Before Escape (BE) - was spied in glimpses and in the briefest of moments; in the school yard, at Ginie¡¯s; at Stuart¡¯s. Any time he could steal a second away from Father. Every effort he made to think of something else was somehow tainted by these old thoughts; perhaps the holdover of last-night¡¯s dream. Even over the sound of Rasputina, Arthur could hear Ms Valentina screaming for a sense of order. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Too noisy, both you. I call police!¡± Arthur¡¯s father would have hated the instant coffee he was spooning into his mug; despised the long-life milk he was pouring into the brew; flown into a rage at the mountain of dirty cups in need of cleaning in the sink. He took the two cups full of hot instant coffee from the counter. He left one coffee (extra milk, extra sugar) on the floor of Ginie¡¯s closed door. He screamed: ¡°Ginie - it¡¯s ready for you.¡± The other he took with him and returned to his room. He got online, immediately logging on to Messenger and was happy (beyond belief) to find a friend request from Madeline Glass. He accepted the request with no fanfare. After a second of processing, Messenger opened and there she was. The girl of his more pleasant dreams - available online. AV: Hey :) MG: Hi Arthur. Nice to net-meet you finally. AV: Same. Really NTMU too Madeline. MG: Glad we could connect somewhere other than LTRN. I know this is sort of still online, but baby-steps amirite? AV: Actually this is a step backwards. MG: What do u mean? AV: Full disclosure. I actually recognise you. MG: Full dsclsur. That¡¯s creepy. Lol. AV: Can I defend myself? MG: Sure - but make it gud. Because my block/report button lkn mighty tasty atm. AV: Lol. You were literally in my lecture yest morning. Prof Anderson. Philosophy. You saved me remember? MG: U that dude who was looking at his phone the whole time. Truth??? AV: I thought that¡¯s why you msgd me on LTRN?? Coz you saw me in the lecture¡­ MG: No. Sorry. Stranger Danger. I just liked your abs picture - jks. AV: Well. It¡¯s all good. My abs are fire. If not for lock-down we would have met in a cafe. This way I don¡¯t have to pay for your coffee. Not Jks. MG: Charming. But no cap¡­ U ARE paying for my coffee when we meet. But dun worry. I am a reasonable girl. I¡¯ll buy u the next one. AV: So are u new 2 the area. I didn¡¯t see u in class last semester. MG: Y and N. Same Uni, different course of study. Same ruff geography, different house. I just had this urge to do something a whole lot less useful with my life. AV: LOL. I hear ya. Philosophy = homelessness. What was your last course? MG: Don¡¯t hate. It was Law. AV: Why would I hate a soulless corporate shill in training? Big Jks! MG: LOL. Well I sure hope my journey from big-bad 2 virtue-signaller exonerates me in your books. AV: All is forgiven. MG: **HUGS**. MG: Your profile says you live in Forest Hill? AV: On God. How bout u? MG: Same. AV: No fgn way! Lol. AV: I live Sycamore Ln. MG: Wow - you¡¯re a true stalker. I am on Wattle. Like two streets away. MG: How long have you lived here? AV: Four years. Before that in cashed up Avoca with my folks =( AV: So important question - Where do we meet? MG: The Bronze? HAHA. If you get tha reference - extra points. AV: Double-ROFL. A Buffy Da vamp slayer fan? Tight. MG: It¡¯s not a show. It¡¯s a lifestyle. AV: Based. But serious I¡¯d really like 2 meet u in person Madeline. MG: Me 2 A-R-T-H-U-R. My place. I¡¯m too scared to go out with the lock-down just ending. **Sick person emoji** Prefer my place. AV: Ok. But should I bring a chaperone? MG: Hard yes. I am an evil man-killer. Beware. AV: So takeaway coffees, some donuts and maybe a Buffy DVD? Season 3? MG: Just drop all that off at my door plz. No need for a meet-up - I¡¯ll be set. LOLOLOL AV: Fine. **Heart-broken-in-advance-emoji** MG: LOL. So my house it is then. When? Arthur¡¯s heart was palpitating. His palms were sweaty. Despite the cold, he threw off his hoodie using his bare-chest as a heat sync. He was not surprised that Ginie was right, or the cards were right ¨C whichever it was. But he hadn¡¯t expected this level of perfection. He hadn¡¯t expected someone who could give back as hard as she took. He hadn¡¯t expected this level of WIT ¨C including from himself. Arthur had zero game. None.Arthur was beyond inept when it came to women. It had become legend in Arthur¡¯s small circle that he was great with hooking-up. He was made for one-night stands. So long as he didn¡¯t open his mouth too much, his body was normally enough to get most of the women, who haunted the online halls of the SaySwaav app, across the line and into his bed. But here he was, actually engaging with this girl without the slightest hesitation, and Madeline seemed just as interested in him. MG: Most important question. Pets? AV: Do flatmates count? MG: Yes. BUT thinking about the four-legged kind atm. AV: Just one. Flatmate¡¯s cat Azrael. Flatmate is a big Smurf¡¯s fan. I don¡¯t have a pet myself. But Azrael prefers me. Just saying. MG: I have a cat 2, Warlock. But he¡¯s with my parents at the moment. He¡¯s a real menace. AV: Haha. Any flatmates? MG: Not at the moment. Living at a close friend¡¯s house for the last few months. Her grandmother¡¯s place. Super groovy. Old Witch house HAHA. AV: That¡¯s why I don¡¯t recognise you from around town. I don¡¯t ever leave a three block radius. For me it¡¯s all Uni study and getting them gains at the gym. MG: That¡¯s probably it - you¡¯re a hermit. AND a real Hardo. Lol. Puppy-Love 7 years earlier Saturday 16 July 2016 - Arthur, Stuart, Ginie and Clara watch a 90s horror film at the Russo home. Arthur reveals that he has feelings for the girl in the window. ¡°Together one year on Tuesday,¡± Clara responded. ¡°That is adorable!¡± Mrs Russo swooned in bonafide admiration. She took what felt like the hundredth photo of Gini and Clara together on the couch with her new iPhone SE. Ginie proudly took Clara¡¯s dainty hand, contentedly pointing at the Victorian-style Amethyst ring she¡¯d purchased her for their first anniversary so that the camera-phone could make it out clearly. Clara smiled serenely, seemingly above it all. Mrs Russo beamed at their young love and spun around in a show of youthful exuberance which was quite out of character for her. Arthur watched on in bafflement at this strange display of mother-daughter dynamics. ¡°Did you know Stuart¡­¡± Mrs Russo said, turning her attention on both of the boys, ¡°before I met Mr Russo I was briefly in a dalliance with a Wiccan girl named Ashleigh Bravewhip. She was a powerful sorceress, even then, and a great kisser to boot.¡± Mr Russo giggled, covering her mouth self consciously and snapping another couple of photographs of the girls. Arthur was not at all used to Mrs Russo cutting loose like this, and he suspected she might have gotten into the sacramental wine. ¡°Oh true?¡± Stuart offered dumbly, never quite sure what to say to adults, especially in the middle of weird childhood reminiscences. ¡°When was that Mother? Like a hundred years ago?¡± Ginie asked perhaps too abruptly, sensing the attention shifting away from her and Clara. ¡°Hardo,¡± Clara snapped at Ginie. Failing to ignore her daughter, Mrs Russo - a little hurt by the brutality of the comment - responded tersely. ¡°Oh, well. Hmm¡­I should think many years ago. I was your and Clara¡¯s age. A little older perhaps; but it was definitely while I was still at highschool.¡± Despite herself, she sighed longingly at the thought of her youthful indiscretion. ¡°Well good for you. But I am with a girl today - in the present. Remember Clara?¡± She said pointing at the transcendent girl sitting next to her on their massive couch. Mrs Russo had not gotten used to her daughter¡¯s tetchy tone; that merciless and unyielding manner so common to teens. ¡°Not everything is about you Mother.¡± Arthur had noticed that Ginie always called her mum mother when she was trying to score points with whoever she believed was tallying such things. Arthur had to call his father Sir, and if he¡¯d shown even the slightest cheek he would have found himself on the receiving end of more than a few firm words. The sound of church hymns filled Arthur¡¯s head as he imagined his father¡¯s rage. Ginie¡¯s mother scowled for a micro-second, but not wanting to further dampen the mood, she adorned a confected smile, took a few final snaps of the Scooby gang (as she called them) and excused herself. ¡°I¡¯ll just go and make you all dinner then?¡± She pushed the swinging door to the kitchen - a little too forcefully - almost taking out Mr Russo, who was busy cooking dinner, and disappeared into the steam and smoke. ¡°Sounds like a great idea. Call us when it¡¯s ready,¡± Ginie shot back. ¡°I am no stranger to disrespect in this house, but your daughter is getting on my last nerves,¡± she whispered too loudly to Mr Russo, as the door finally swung completely closed. Clara rolled her eyes at Ginie, so that Ginie would be aware that she was not impressed by her treatment of her soon to be mother-in-law. Ginie just shrugged, picked up a pillow from the floor, and for no reason at all hit Stuart over the head with it. Now that they were alone again, Stuart resumed Scream on the Blu-Ray and he and Ginie began their standard running commentary of the evening¡¯s main attraction. It was still early in the film. So early in fact, that Drew Barrymore¡¯s character wasn¡¯t at the point of taking the prank telephone call too seriously - yet. Ginie flung an arm over Clara¡¯s shoulder and gave her a quick peck. Clara gave her a playful push back, all forgiven. ¡°Sara Michelle Gellar would have made a better Sidney Prescott,¡± Ginie offered defiantly, knowing that Stuart would never let this lie. ¡°Nev Campbell is not only hotter and broodier. She¡¯s also ten times the actor SMG is.¡± Stuart and Ginie argued over this as Drew Barrymore¡¯s character flirted with her killer. But Arthur couldn¡¯t pay attention to the screen. He felt distinctly as though he was being watched by something. The hairs on his arms stood on-end and he felt a chill run down his back. He looked beyond the television and through the window facing on to the back yard, but saw only darkness there. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Right on schedule Ginie began to put on her usual show, demonstrating her deep knowledge of all things horror. The only thing she loved more than horror, was picking fights with Stuart and Arthur on everything from the accuracy of the Book of Shadows in Charmed, to the real story behind the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Arthur still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was being watched and it made his stomach ache. It was only after a few moments of a creeping dread that seemed to inhabit all of him that he realised it was Clara looking at him - and not some spirit from the beyond. She was transfixed; her head cocked slightly to the side and her eyes locked intensely. She neither smiled nor frowned, but simply stared in his direction as though there was something on his forehead, like a smear of slime. ¡°I¡¯m going to go grab a drink,¡± Arthur said, half-lying and just wanting to get our of Clara¡¯s laser-focus. ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± Clara responded. Arthur didn¡¯t want a drink, and he didn¡¯t want Clara following him to the kitchen. He quickly shot up, bypassed the kitchen altogether, and made for the rumpus room, which had a small bar, and a mini-fridge filled with strange pop from the US. He opened the mini-fridge and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper, a decidedly disgusting but interesting drink. He turned to find Clara right behind him. He started, almost dropping the full can onto the floor. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t scare me like that, weirdo,¡± he said smirking at his friend. ¡°Oh sorry Arthur,¡± she paused and sighed deeply. ¡°Umm¡­did you know you were shining?¡± Arthur did not know what to say. He had the notion that Clara had either lost her mind or was quitting girls to start a new life with him. He doubted the latter was the case but he found her proximity to him, within his tight personal circle, a little uncomfortable. ¡°You¡¯re keeping something from all of us aren¡¯t you Arth? There¡¯s something strange about your aura. Something emerging from behind your neck. There¡¯s a faint smell of ash. I think you¡¯re in love but you¡¯re scared too - of what?¡± She seemed to be talking more to herself than him. ¡°Clara - I respect your beliefs and all, but what are you talking about?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be coy Arth. Who is she?¡± At this Arthur was truly and finally shocked. Had he let on somehow? Had he accidentally written the secret words in his mind on a piece of paper and left it on the coffee table for all to read? ¡°I ¡­ umm¡­well. I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± ¡°Damn - it¡¯s fear alright. What¡¯s got you so shook that you can¡¯t tell us? I thought you would be honest enough with your friends to tell them if you were in trouble¡­or in love.¡± ¡°Well - it¡¯s just that she¡¯s. Well it¡¯s ¡­¡± ¡°So you admit it? There¡¯s a she.¡± Just as Arthur was about to speak the lights around the room flickered on and off just like in a horror film, only less synchronised. The room suddenly seemed colder, and just as he was about to say they should return to the lounge, Clara suddenly pulled back in horror. ¡°Arth, can you tell me one thing,¡± she said quickly, out of breath. ¡°What¡¯s her name? Tell me!¡± ¡°Leelu. And she¡¯s not from school so you probably don¡¯t know her anyway,¡± Arthur responded. She rubbed her eyes, and shook her head. The lights in the room suddenly went out completely plunging the two of them into darkness. Ginie screamed after Clara from the other room. ¡°Clara where you at babe? How shit is this house? We can¡¯t watch a single movie in peace!¡± ¡°Coming! Just having an D and M with Arth!¡± She pulled him to her. ¡°Arthur. What have you done?¡± ¡°Nothing I swear. I haven¡¯t even met Leelu in person. We just talk¡­but I think I¡­really like her.¡± ¡°Do you love her?¡± ¡°I think¡­maybe.¡± ¡°Arthur your Aura¡­ It¡¯s completely black. It¡¯s like you¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°Dead?¡± Clara tried to calm herself, smiling softly at him. ¡°Tell me about this Leelu. Don¡¯t leave anything out.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a really special¡­girl. She¡¯s like me in a lot of ways,¡± he sort of chuckled to himself about this but Clara didn¡¯t understand why. Arthur continued awkwardly. ¡°She¡¯s really nice, and really funny, but she¡¯s stuck in a life she can¡¯t get out of until she¡¯s much older. And she likes Buffy, and horror, and she¡¯s just totally awesome and smart.¡± ¡°How long have you known this ¡­ girl?¡± ¡°A while. Like three years.¡± ¡°Three years! Arthur ¡­ years? That¡¯s three times longer than you¡¯ve known me. How and where did you meet her and don¡¯t you lie to me Arthur Velnias.¡± At this Arthur paused. What to say? He wondered. No matter what he said now, it would sound crazy. He flipped through the catalogue of possible responses and landed squarely on: ¡°I met her in the attic.¡± ¡°Is there a girl in the attic Arthur?¡± She asked completely beside herself. ¡°Do we need to call the police?¡± ¡°Not exactly. I mean no don¡¯t call the police. She¡¯s not living there. It¡¯s just where we meet. She only appears when I step on the star in the middle of the room.¡± ¡°The pentacle?¡± Clara gasped. ¡°Yeah. That. She appears in the circle window when I step into the star. At first, it was an accident. I was being a 10 year old and snooping around in the attic after Mr and Mrs Russo¡¯s temple. But then it became every week and I think maybe we¡¯re more than just friends. I mean I know we are. We were even planning on meeting up. Just have to sort out the where and when.¡± ¡°No!¡± Came the booming voice of Mr Russo from behind them. ¡°No! No! No!¡± They both spun around to find Mr Russo in the room with them, an unlit torch in his right hand. ¡°Arthur you don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve done.¡± His voice was only drowned out by the television suddenly switching back on to Drew Barrymore screaming at the killer on the phone. ¡°Why is everyone getting so mad at me,¡± he shout-whispered. ¡°Leelu is a good person. It doesn¡¯t matter what she looks like or who she is. I like her¡­a lot.¡± ¡°The girl in the window is not your friend Arthur,¡± he said gently, taking Arthur by the shoulders. ¡°She¡¯s the daughter of a very powerful man.¡± Arthur had never seen Mr Russo like this. Mr Russo looked distracted for a moment and fell into a stunned silence. He left the two of them in the rumpus to have a quick conference with his wife in the hushed tones of frightened parents.Mrs Russo had suddenly and inexplicably been overcome by a serious stomach bug. Within a few minutes, movie night was over, and dinner was hotboxed and handed out to all. After everyone but Arthur had left, and Ginie had gone to her room, aggrieved at the direction the night had taken, Mr Russo took Arthur into the Attic. A room now very familiar to Arthur. ¡°Arthur. I know what you said - I hear you I do. And I understand what your heart and mind must be telling you. But this isn¡¯t something that you are ready for. I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t take more care to keep you from harm. But I will protect you now. I need to show you this for your own good.¡± On the wooden floor next to the beautiful star, which had transported him to the girl of his dreams every weekend since he was ten years old, stood an vase of water, filled with fresh hemlock. Before Arthur could even countenance what was happening Mr Russo tipped the sanctified water onto the star, chanting a few words Arthur could not understand. He recognised that they were probably Sumerian or Aramaic. In a flash of light and fire, the star began to disintegrate from view before his eyes. Only when it was gone did Arthur cry out, in the slow realisation that he would never see Leelu again. He hadn¡¯t had the chance to say goodbye. ¡°If we¡¯re lucky Arthur. Maybe what I¡¯ve done tonight will be enough to save you. We can only pray.¡±