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 Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:33 am
Entry Log #1
Dear Journal –
Although I may never call you ‘journal’ again, you are, from now on, the way that will document the recent task that I have been charged with. It amazes me that I find myself back in Dur’em, after such a long absence. I really do not approve of my continued presence in the city, as it seems to have a greatly negative impact on both the city and myself.
I’m serious about that last comment. The last time I was in Dur’em, I wound up nearly being the cause of a major three way accident that would have most likely taken the city’s main intersection out of commission.
I felt slightly smug after that though. The a*****e in the beemer deserved every bit of what he got.
But, back to the subject. I recently stopped along the road at what looked to be a major tourist attraction. While I was thinking about my need to relieve myself, a young woman with a troubled look on her face asked me what I was doing wandering around this most holy of shrines.
I boggled for a good minute before I managed to ask her where the bathroom was. Smiling knowingly, she pointed me towards a stately-looking outhouse [if they can be that way, I’m not really sure that they can], and turned to leave. I decided that it was not worth my time to let her think that I was incompetent enough to not use the bathroom without an escort.
I am not, despite popular misconception, three years old.
Afterwards, as I went to go and find the woman to thank her, another girl, this one dressed in the uniform that I have not seen out of many anime – the white and red yukata. I could not help but having rather perverted thoughts as I tried to keep my face straight.
The girl smiled at me, and pressed an envelope into my hand, telling me that I’d know what to do with when the time was right. Oh my goodness. Strange gifts from pretty young… shrine maidens.
First mocked by an old woman, then made to feel rather fluffy by a young girl who was dressed in something usually not found outside of my most intimate fantasies. Oh, yes, my day was going well.
So I took the envelope, thinking that I could just chuck it at some later date, when she was not around to be heartbroken as I did so. It seemed nice of me.
The girl smiled at me, nodded sagely, and said that the contents would cause me all sorts of pain a suffering.
Now, did she honestly expect me to keep it?
I thanked her, for that was the most decent thing to do, and headed back to where I’d parked my very shiny, and all around damn badass motorcycle. I’d been on the road for three years now, and the bike was getting a little bit run down. I’d have to service it when I finally picked a place to settle down.
Sometime in the not to distant future, I planned on getting a job and settling down, as I had no cash and gas was getting more and more expensive.
Tossing the envelope into the trash can as I passed it, I mounted the bike. It felt good to sit astride it, and feel it’s manly-ness coursing through my veins. Not that I have any problem with being a girl, I just, from time to time, like the testosterone rush.
When I woke up the next morning, it was to the feeling some something distinctly pointy poking into my side. It was an unpleasant feeling, but one that I enjoy when the company in my bed is not the envelope that I distinctly remembered throwing away the night before – when I’d left the shrine of creepiness.
Rolling over, I cursed loudly, and pulled the thing out from under the blanket, and stared at it with blurry eyes. I did not understand why it had reappeared, but tossed it again into the trashcan. It wasn’t important anyway – or at least, I didn’t think it was.
Either way, I decided not to think anything of it, and sat up, looking for the girl that I’d spent the night with.
As usual, there was no sign of her. There really never is. It’s like they hate seeing me with bedhead or something.
Shrugging, I pulled on my pants and headed back outside, wanting to hit the road before anything popped up to give me any more trouble.
That’s the problem with morning, you know. They always seem to never have quite enough time in them, and one very quickly finds ones self puttering about long into the afternoon. It is not good for the health, puttering.
I kicked the bike into action, and hit the road again. It was a good twenty minutes, at a cursing speed of around eighty miles an hour that I felt something unusual in my back pocket.
With a sick feeling of dread, I pulled over and fished whatever it was out of my pocket – that damn envelope ******** thing.
Pulling out a lighter and the small quantity of vodka that I still had in my backpack I doused the damn thing and lit the paper on fire; contentment building in me as I watched the fames lick around the envelope, consuming it until it was nothing but ash.
It had no place with me, and it had met its end.
Creepy stalker paper…
All this being said, You’d imagine my surprise when I found that same envelope taped to the side of my book later that night, as I was getting ready to turn in for the night.
I guess the envelope was flame retarded or something.
I ripped it open, curiosity getting the better of my ‘bite the hand that feeds you’ mentality – and found that inside was strange sort of ticket and a note with an address on it.
An address in Dur’em – a city, as I mentioned before, that doesn’t get along well with me.
It was then that I resolved to go to this address, and give the idiot who made the creepy stalker envelope-with-ticket-and-address inside a piece of my mind.
Which brings me to the next entry,
Over and Out –
Erasin Cypress
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:35 am
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:36 am
Entry Log #2
Dearest Journal –
Oh, why am I writing in this damn thing again? Seriously, this is the most perfect example that I can think of as a waste of my time. I do not want to write in you, I have no reason to. I just need somewhere to log the fact that I am somehow the guardian of a small child who appears to have narcolepsy.
In case you didn’t know, Narcolepsy is a sleeping disorder that causes those who have it to fall asleep at random intervals, with no control over when or where they do so.
That reminds me. My child, the one that the damn train spat out at me and Chao, my darling, explained was a ‘passenger’. Since the girl appeared on a train, obvioyusly a guise for an interdementional vortex of one sort or another. Clearly these ‘passangers’ had a ‘past life’ of some sort, and what was written on the ticket, in my case You alone can quench the fire, defined who they were going to be. How does a ticket and your past life define who you are? Sounds rather Sailor Moon to me; so I shall take the Hino Rei route out and go: “OMG THAT IS NO WAY TO JUDGE HOW A PERSON IS IN THE PRESENT.” Yeah, I’m a little crazy, but anyway, the passenger - her name is Rhael. It’s Hebrew, not quite sure what it means, but it’s pronounced Rah-Hell, in case you ever need to tell anyone how to say it.
MMMM, Keiko.
Anyway, Rhael and I exited the Junction shop and realized that I would not be able to just strap her to the back of the pretty, shiny, and very fast motorcycle that I had driven here. Not that I didn’t try, but she didn’t fit and kept on looking at me with these pleading eyes that made me think that she would not take well to high speeds.
So I put her in front of me, picked up a discarded copy of the ‘real estate’ digest off the ground and pulled slowly out of the parking lot – taking extra care to not exceed fourty miles a hour.
I don’t know, riding a bike with one hand is really hard.
And then Rhael fell asleep, and my engine began to make odd noises.
I stopped at the next hotel we passed and forked over the cash for a room. I figured that I should at least have a base of operations in Dur’em before I go out and look for a place to life.
And a job, and a better way of getting around town, and some kid clothes so that Rhael would not look so conspicuous.
God. I have so much to do still.
Anyway, Rhael bounced happily for a few minutes, and I tried to actually talk to her, for like the first time.
I am an awful parent.
And should be shot.
The first conversation went something like this:
“So you are Rhael Cypress, somehow my offspring, even though I’ve never slept with a man?” This was met with a strange half-smile and some pulling of my bangs… and my glasses. WHO DOES THIS GIRL THINK SHE IS? NO ONE TOUCHED THE GLASSES. EVAH.
“Do you like me?” This was asked because she looked like she was going to cry when I took my glasses back and carefully explained to her that they were not for her to touch, as they were very important to me.
For that, I got a smile and some chewing on fingers.
I think I’m getting somewhere.
So I shall write again when I get a chance to flip through the real estate digest and see if there’s anything worth living in around here.
Yeah, right.
Erasin Cypress.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:37 am
Entry Log #3
Dear Journal
So much has happened since I last had a spare minute to sit down and write in this damn thing. Not that it really matters, as no one really wants to read it anyway – as all I do is b***h. I’m so awful.
Anyway, Rhael and I have found an apartment in this hollowed out building up in the north-end of Dur’em, quite near to the place where Rhael miraculously appeared, actually. It’s nice, if a bit depressing right now – as it needs a good paint job. There are three rooms, one of which is quite large and is the kitchen, living room and my bedroom combined. The other room is very small and I’ve found a mattress that Rhael can sleep on until she gets a little older and wants more space.
We even have a bath tub, in the middle of the floor, but it’s there.
I’ve been picking up stuff here and there at yard sales on the outskirts of the city, and am slowly getting used to driving in the city again. Not that it’s easy to ride a motorcycle in the city or anything. Frankly, that sucks.
But Rhael has developed quite a liking for bagels – and eats them with locks and chive cream cheese [a combination that I could not stand]. I am far more a fan of the sun-dried tomato bagel with something that makes my mouth burn when I eat it. Like spicy mustard. That’s always a fun experience.
Rhael is not into the spicy food, however, preferring bland tastes. I’m not really sure why she doesn’t like the spicy food, but when she felt the sensation of biting into a jalapeño pepper, she just freaked out. We’re talking crying for a good thirty minutes here. Easily. It was very hard to get her to calm now, but some warm milk seemed to knock her right out.
I wonder what possessed her to cry like that, but damn, it was hard to handle.
She gets quiet at times, and I can feel her eyes watching me, staring. Not believing, I don’t think. It’s like she sees something in me that she cannot place. Like a soul, or a love life, for instance.
I settle her into bed and watch as she fitfully turns over and over. It is as if the very devil it’s self is struggling to prevent her from falling into the abyss of sleep. I open my mouth and begin to sing, a half-remembered child’s tune.
I stand before the sea –
My wings unfurled in flight
I dare to touch the sun
Apollo, Precious Sun!
I long to reach out
Caress your flawless face!
My wings open
And fall I do
To the depths of the sea
She drifts off into a fitful sleep, and I start my vigil by her bed. There are no more boxes to unpack, I have nothing left to do but watch this strange child as she sleeps. She has come into my life for a reason, to help me atone for the sins of my past.
Erasin Cypress has sinned, this I know.
However, how can raising a child atone for such a sin as mine?
-Erasin Cypress.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:38 am
Entry Log #4
Dear Journal –
I knew there was something bad about the fact that I accepted Rhael into my care. I knew it. There had to be something wrong with her for her to show up on a completely charred train. I KNEW IT.
She woke up last night complaining that her room was too hot, which was strange because it was actually quite cool. I was worried that the poor child was sick, so I got out the thermometer and checked her temperature; 98 degrees, perfectly normal, even though her skin was burning up.
Seriously, journal, I'm talking about nearly hurting my hands to touch her. I didn't know what to do, so I pulled off the too-large shirt that she'd been sleeping in off of her body, wondering if there was a reason she was so damn hot. Looking over the now frightened girl, I could not see anything wrong, but I could feel the worry transferring from myself over to Rhael in leaps and bounds.
I was scaring her.
She seemed perfectly okay, just hot. So I sent her back to sleep, she went quietly, perhaps a little more quietly than usual, and I started to pace.
There had to be something wrong with her, why else would her skin be so hot when her body temperature was perfectly normal? I pulled out the medical textbook that I'd stolen off of one of my many flings and flipped through it.
My finger stopped as soon as I smelled the smoke, my nostrils flared as I glanced around – peering out the window, wondering if someone was having a late-evening bonfire… in the middle of the city. As unlikely as it seemed, I would not put it past a bunch of gaians on their night off.
Anyway, the smoke was coming from inside the apartment, I realized, dropping the book with a quite loud, "Oh, s**t, Rhael!"
I ran into the girl's closet-like living space, only to be nearly suffocated by the smoke billowing out of… if not from the girl herself. How could the smoke have been coming from her? It seemed to be issuing it’s self from just under her.
HOLY s**t HER BED WAS ON FIRE.
I lurched forward, grabbing the girl, pulling her close to myself. It was my duty to protect her; I would not let anything come between me and that duty. For a fleeting second, I pondered what the wisdom of picking up an apparently flame-retardent child.
She as just like that damn ticket. What the hell. "Rhael!" I called, shaking her slightly, trying to jerk her awake. Her face was contorted in a way that I’d never seen before, like she was torn between crying out in pain and peacefully sleeping.
Was she burned? I didn't know, but there seemed to be no outward signs of damage. Still, I set her down on my own bed and pulled the battered fire extinguisher out from it’s place on the wall. The pin came out on the third try, as the fire continued to spread, quickly encompassing all of Rhael's belongings.
How had she done this? I wondered, as there was no other explanation. The foam covered the bed, suffocating the fire, and I quickly bushed around the charred remains of the bed, shoving the window open so that the smoke could leave.
I shuttered, finally able to breathe properly.
There was far more to this, I knew it.
Erasin Cypress.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:39 am
Entry Log #5
Dear Journal –
After much cleaning, we have finally managed to completely remove the smell of smoke from the apartment, and Rhael has taken to sleeping in one of my dresser drawers, as they are slightly more expendable than her bed. [This is under the pretext of her bursting into flame again, which I’m doubtful of, but I’d rather not take any chances.]
I took Rhael to the park this morning, where many interesting things happened. It all started with a simple tugging on my shirt, before I was swept away – to a world that I could barely survive in.
The playground.
I know it sounds like a timid sort of thing, but GOD, I was terrified.
We walk into the park, looking around, expecting to run into someone I know. I have this odd habit of meeting people in the park; I think that it comes from me knowing far too many people. I wish there was a way to cut back on the number of people that a body knows, but I guess that something just aren’t supposed to be.
The first thing that Rhael notices is the other children, I’d been a good parent and kept her away from any of the young and corrupting influences – choosing to educate her on the ins and outs of social life all on my onesome.
Not the brightest idea, as Rhael immediately found the children to be the most fascinating things in the park – and insisted on dragging me over to say ‘hello’.
She’s a shy child, Rhael, and her grasp on language is not so good, as of yet. She can communicate, but it takes some trying for her to find the right words to get her point across. I find the whole conversations usually to be rather endearing, as I seem to be the only one who understands her garbled English.
“… people?” She asked me, tugging on my sleeve, a finger pointing down a path towards the happy sounds of children playing. I could feel myself begin to sweat. I hate children with a fiery passion. I guess that Rhael is just an exception to the rule, as she is so quiet, and doesn’t… -flinch- shriek like that.
I nodded, decided that acknowledgement was the best bet against such a foe.
“See?” She asked, pulling more insistently.
I shook my head, trying to steer the girl over towards the hot dog man, intent on actually getting food on this number of our numerous adventures. All of which ended in skinned knees and very little actually being accomplished.
She looked at me then, with tears welling up in her eyes, as though the end of the world. I don’t know what was so … hard to look at about that picture, but I found myself being lead down a path to almost certain death – and completely unable to resist it. Stupid puppy eyes.
The playground was a relatively simple affair as play grounds go. One of those dome-like sets of monkey bars, a couple swings and that spinning thing… that kids jump on and make incredible amounts of noise.
I hate those things.
Rhael looked around, entranced as the five or six other children ran in a circle around the spinning thing – jumping on and off as they could, laughing all the way. She looked at me questioningly, “What’s that?” She asked, jerking a finger at the thing, watching, entranced, as a boy fell off and made the most deafening noise that I have ever heard, clutching a skinned knee.
“It’s a Spinning… Thing.” I explained, not wanting to go into details, not wanting her to get on the damn thing.
“Try.” She said, walking towards the thing with purpose. Her flip-flops flicking up and down against her heals as she moved closer to the thing. I could see the kids on it were perhaps a year or two older than Rhael was – or appeared to be. I wasn’t sure about her actual age. I just say five, but she talks like a three-year-old.
Ya.
That makes sense.
I was concerned that she would find herself in a position that she would be able to handle, but when she approached the thing, some of the other children on it put their feet down and let the thing slow down enough so that she could get onto it. I guess that there’s something about a girl with two braids and a happy smile that anyone can be a sucker for.
They began to spin, Rhael’s voice joining the others in a simple cacophony of happy, albeit, loud noises. I wandered over and took a swing, pushing myself back and forth as they spun again and again.
After a while, Rhael got off and went to play on the money-bars with another little girl, perhaps a year or so older than her. I watched them contentedly, and resolved to get Rhael to interact with some children her own age.
Chao had mentioned that there were other kids that kept on popping up on the train, that the annoying Nagi-like man had been unloading on unsuspecting visitors. I wondered if she had any phone numbers that I could call.
I resolved to call her.
But before that, I pulled myself up to my full height, and headed over to talk to the girl that Rhael had attached herself to. The girl seemed nice, but I wasn't sure that I could trust any child from around the Dur'em area. I'd had too many bad expireances with their parents.
And the a*****e on the beemer still deserved it.
The girl was hanging upside down now, showing Rhael how to do it. I could hear her voice from her, "Just fall backwards, and hang on 'till you feel comfortable."
Rhael gave her a questioning look, but nodded and let herself fall backwards.
I could see the accident happen, almost immobile as she fell. There was no way that I could have gotten there in time, and yet she fell, floating in the air, drifting at warp-speed towards the ground.
I lunged, my body suddenly working again, pushing forward. Dashing towards the source of the falling, the pain. I heard her yelp, in shock and astonishment as she plummeted towards the earth - and then the contented giggle as she hit the ground.
There was no pain, nothing on Rhael's smiling face that suggested that she had just hurt herself... Nothing at all.
Erasin Cypress
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 10:39 am
Entry Log #6
Dear Journal –
It being in my nature to spend far too much of my time idly contemplating the small articles of clothing that people never seem to be with out – I have noticed something. Rhael, when she first arrived on the train, was wearing a small pipe around her neck. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, passing it off as a simple talisman from wherever it was that she came from. To tell the truth, I have not looked at it since then, but today she came running up to me in the grocery store with a self-satisfied smile on her face, like a cat who’d just gotten away with killing the canary.
“Mummy!” She shouted excitedly, “It makes noise!” She said, putting the small object to her lips and blowing as hard as she could. The sound was like that of a penny-whistle, shrill and piercing.
It sounded like no pipe that I’d ever heard before – perhaps this is just because it resembled a fox. And as far as I knew, most pipes were long and rather narrow, not fat like a fox.
I did, vaguely, recall reading something about many cultures placing holes in their clay works in order to allow the spirit inside an easy escape route. To tell the truth, it seemed rather silly to me. I doubted that Rhael would come to possess anything so valuable so early on in her life, but I knew that the pipe came from train.
And that annoying man.
Of course, it had to be him, because there would be no way in any of the seven levels of hell that I would actually go and talk to the man. He was just too annoying for me to have any level of trust in him.
Plus, he fooled me into becoming the guardian of Rhael, not that I minded, but seriously, I really felt that I wouldn’t be finding myself as a parent so early on in my life. Seriously, I am not equipped to handle a child that has the potential of burning my house down whenever she had a bad dream…
Or at least, that’s what I’ve discovered about Rhael’s affinity for fire. I believe that her skill comes from a unique combination of the actualities of nightmares and something else. It’s the something else that worries me.
I’ve been doing research on fire starters, firebugs, if you will; but I cannot find anything that would clue me into what might be Rhael’s problem. I know that she doesn’t suffer from pyromania, because that is an impulse control disorder, because it is a problem from those with few adequate social skills, allowing only the form of communication thought the flames.
How Native American of them.
But the pipe shaped like a fox that Rhael has been playing with as of late, perhaps more so than before. I wonder what it’s purpose is.
In the ancient tomes, they speak of a spirit that resides within a clay piece such as this, that it is used for protection. Protection from what, I wonder?
And why would Rhael need it?
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Posted: Tue Mar 06, 2007 10:34 am
Entry Log #7
Dear Journal –
Rhael has been living with me for some time now and I cannot begin to account for the number of odd things that have been happening to both her and myself. I'm used to odd things, this much is true – I've attracted them since a young age; and the few passing meetings that I've had with my ancestors, gods in their own right, have been enough to completely change my definition of what defines the term 'weird.'
Unfortunately, none of my upbringing or skills, can prepare me for the dreams that Rhael has nearly every night. She's a bright kid, a smart child who knows full well the meaning behind my words when I tell her that the visions she sees are just dreams and nothing more.
I'm lying through my teeth.
I don't know what to call the dreams that she keeps on having, premonitions? Visions? Death omens? While the latter seems very Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, the two former hold some weight in my mind because of the rather blatant fact that they both could be true.
Rhael tells me that she dreams of fire.
I wonder if the fact that she burned the train when she first arrived in Dur'em has anything to do with that. It's her earliest memory and one that I think she wishes she could forget. Chao tells me that the annoying man was not much amused by the way that Rhael arrived, burning out an entire car of the train that led her to that strange station in the middle of town.
Come to think of it, Chao never really explained to me what the heck was going on with Rhael in the first place. Like why was she here? I know it's supposed to be some sort of big mystery, but I honestly can't say one way or the other if I actually approve of what's going on.
Rhael is a child, she's innocent. Her dreams are of fire – nothing more.
Wasn't there a Steven King movie about that?
I've been doing some research into what could be the root of Rhael’s powers, but none of my old contacts within the interim dimensions that connect my world to this and so many others have been able to log her proposed entryway into this world. It's as though Rhael is a real Gaian, someone from this world proper.
Somehow I find that really hard to believe. Rhael has something of a power about her, a blessing that most of this world are far pressed to ever find.
I think that this calls for more research, but I'll leave you, dearest journal, with a poem that I found the other day while researching the possibility of Rhael being some sort of latent pyromaniac that I should be worried about.
The dreams are getting better, I have to vouch for them, but the smoke that suddenly emits from Rhael's room when she’s sleeping is enough to make me think that she's struggling to control the power on her own.
E'er the rose blooms
so shall the flame blossom.
It is the nature of fire to build
To scramble up the walls
To claw a way through to truth
Fire starters are like the flame
They only come when needed
And when they’re needed,
Be afraid, for their word must be heeded.
I wish there was some way that I could figure out what it was that Rhael was trying to tell me when she woke up crying. It never made any sense to me, and I don’t have any idea what could have caused this sort of madness.
Erasin Cypress
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 6:52 pm
Entry Log #8
Dear Journal -
Dur’em is truly a fascinating place to be in the middle of the winter, but as spring rolls around, the pseudo-Asian sense of the place really comes to life. As the cherry blossoms started to bloom, Rhael and myself both realized that it was perhaps a much better idea for us to spend some time out of the apartment that still had the rather unnatural habit of smelling like smoke whenever Rhael woke up in the morning. I’ve taken to keeping her up later at night so that she’ll fall asleep faster - I think that the dreams of flame might have something to do with the fact that putting a young child to bed early gives their mind so many different topics to wander off to if they are not careful.
Still, derailing a child’s train of thought should always be the most important part of my day, I swear.
Speaking of my day, have you ever noticed that when you’re spending money, you actually don’t make any money in return? Rhael has determined that she wants to go to this Spring Festival in a few days and I have no. cash. at. all. This is really a problem.
I left Rhael off at a friend of mine’s house who happens to have quite a collection of picture books for her to check out, and hastened down to the bank.
Sure enough. My balance was quite low and there was really no way that I could logically explain that to Rhael with the rent cheque due at the end of the month.
Anyway, I just thought that I should point out that I now have a job at the local supermarche and I fully intend to shoot it up at some point with a bunch of my friends.
I mean, for serious.
And Rhael was quite intrigued by the move, Hot Fuzz, we’re going to have to keep her away from the DVD collection it seems.
So yes, Rhael and I will be heading to this festival just a few days from now; I think we’re both looking forward to it.
Erasin
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2007 3:49 pm
\The Spring Festival -
Rhael tottered silently along beside Erasin as the pair of them made their way towards the distant sounds of festival. It was not an uncommon sight, festivals in Dur’em, but it was a rare enough occasion that Rhael wanted to be on her best behavior. Erasin did not mind chatter, but as the road was busy and Erasin had confided to Rhael that she really had no idea where they were going, Rhael assumed that keeping chatter to a minimum might be for the best.
She hurried along after Erasin, the cuffs of her too-long overalls that Erasin had acquired at the salvation army flipped against her shoes as they made their way across the town square and into the heart of the residential area of Dur’em.
She realized almost immediately that she did not like it there. The houses were too far apart and there were too many places that things – unknown creatures and monsters of the night – could be lurking. She whimpered slightly, tugging on Erasin’s pant leg. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the feeling of comfort that Erasin’s presence provided for her, but she knew, without a doubt, that Erasin was far safer than the unknown.
Erasin looked down at Rhael, a bemused smile on her face as she paused and knelt beside the child. “Are you alright?” She asked, holding out her hand for Rhael to take.
Rhael shook her head and pointed mutely at the wide spaces between the house they were standing in front of and the next. “Don’t like it.” She said quietly, not really trusting her voice to go above the whisper she was speaking in now. “It’s too big.” She explained, gesturing around at the wide expanses.
Erasin laughed, “Welcome to the suburbs.”
Rhael frowned. She had never heard the word ‘sub-urbs’ before. It sounded like a lot of other words that her mother would say from time to time when she was talking to other people who were older and more smart that Rhael. She hated to feel inadequate, but she honestly had no idea what Erasin was talking about and she wanted to know. “What are sub-urbs?” She asked, sounding out the word as she tried out saying it. It sounded strange on her tongue.
“Yes, it’s a place where people who don’t like other people choose to live.” Erasin explained, “That’s why there are such big spaces between the houses. It’s also why we can have a festival here.”
Rhael nodded. The festival had sounded like such a brilliant idea when her friend Michael had first tild her about it. It did not make sense that they should not be able to go. Erasin had told her that they wouldn’t be able to do much, because she didn’t have a lot of money right now, but that didn’t really bother Rhael.
She wanted to see what was going on, that was all. She had loved the two carnivals that Sin had brought her to, the ones htat she remembered. The rides and the people and the food were enough to make her cry out with glee every time she thought about them, but that really wasn’t the point. She just wanted to see what this ‘matsuri,’ this spring festival, would have in store for her.
“Why can’t they have a festival in the park?” Rhael asked suddenly, realization dawning on her that perhaps they were going to the wrong place. “We play in the park all the time! There’s loads of space there.”
Erasin shook her head. “It’s all a matter of placement, really.” She explained and Rhael found herself scooped up off the ground and resting in Erasin’s arms. She liked being held, it made her feel safe, and the feeling of safety was something that not even Rhael’s own bed could recreate at this point in time.
She did not like being left alone at night, to dream of burning things and all the other ‘horrors’ that Erasin said her sleeping mind was haunted by.
Erasin carried Rhael down a few more streets and the two of them soon found themselves in front of a wide expanse of grass that was covered in vendors. Cherry trees and other flowering plants dotted the scenery and everything about the place seem almost futuristic, a brilliant swirl of both brightly colored blossoms and the tell-tale smell of well-cooked fish.
“Wow.” Rhael said as they walked into the middle of the festival grounds. People from the Asian-inspired cultures as well as a good number of genuine Chinese and Japanese people were milling about in traditional dress.
“Indeed.” Erasin admonished, setting Rhael down and taking her hand. “We should go and look around.”
But Rhael was too distracted to hear Erasin’s words. The place was positively alive with color and sound; but everything about it seemed eerily familiar, as though she’d somehow been there before. She didn’t know what it was about the place that made her so uneasy, but now that she was here, she really, really did not want to be.
She shifted from one foot to the other, searching her mind for a suitable excuse to give her mother about whey she wanted to leave, but she could think of nothing. Nothing made any sense to her young mind as a way to leave. She couldn’t pretend to be sick because then she’d actually worry Erasin, and she was pretty sure that her playmate with Michael was scheduled for this time on Thursday, and not before then.
She had no choice, it seemed, and she reluctantly followed Erasin down a row of vendors. It wasn’t that the place wasn’t interesting, but she really was quite worried now. She couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity from this place, even though she was positive that, in her short life, she’d never been to one of these places before.
“You like it?” Erasin asked as the stopped in front of a small stand where a bunch of children in traditional dress were gathered around small pools of water with what looked to be pieces of paper glued around thin wire frames.
Rhael was quite positive that she’d never seen something like this before, so she moved forward hesitantly, cautiously inspecting the children before her. They seemed nice enough, but Rhael was far too wary of even the slightest thing out of the ordinary right now for even the slightest thing to escape her notice.
Still, the kids did seem nice enough.
She squatted down and peered into the large kiddie pool full of water. There were things swimming around inside it! She gasped and leaned closer. Small jellyfish and koi swam around in the pool. The surface of the water was littered with what looked like soggy bits of paper and Rhael watched with interest as several children tried to move the paper out of the way of older kids who obviously had the skill to actually catch things in the water.
A man wearing an apron leaned down and asked quietly, “Do you want to try and catch one?”
Rhael was confused. How could she catch one of those? She didn’t really know how to catch fish anyway, but somehow it didn’t seem to be much of a problem for the other kids. She frowned deeply then nodded. She had to do it, just to prove to herself that she was not a sissy like Michael sometimes called her when he was annoyed with her.
Erasin sat back and simply nodded, and that was all the encouragement Rhael needed. She pushed up her shirt sleeves and took the paper net from the man. She didn’t notice Erasin press two one dollar bills into the apron’ed man’s hands as he brushed past her.
Rhael chose her target carefully. She knew exactly which jellyfish she wanted, for it was swimming lazily up by the top of the water and looking for the world as though all it wanted in life was for Rhael to take it home.
She’s already named it Jeremy after one of the characters in a storybook that Erasin had read to her a few days previously.
She scooped carefully, wanting to make extra-triple sure that she would actually succeed in catching the jellyfish before the paper fell off of the wire net to float lazily in the water like the remnants of so many other children’s attempts.
Rhael bit her lip and scooped quickly. The jellyfish didn’t seem to notice the sudden change in location and continued to move in a very jellyfish-like way once out of the water. Rhael thought the whole thing was rather silly and giggled at the jelly as the man in the apron surged forward to help Rhael put the wriggling creature into a jar.
He shoved a cork into the top of the jar and handed it to Rhael. “Tha there’s a special jar.” He said with a large grin, “It’ll keep the jellyfish alive quite nicely on its own. You can prod it o’ whatever pleases you, but the Jelly’ll be happy as a clam in there.”
Rhael smiled. The jar felt heavy in her hands and she felt more happy than she had in weeks. She had caught herself a pet! Her smile grew wider as she turned and carefully trotted over to Erasin, holding up the jar full of jellyfish for her to see. “Look!” She said.
Erasin positively beamed down at her. “Good job, Rhael!” she said, taking the jar from Rhael and holding it up to the light so that she could get a better look.
Rhael bounced happily on the balls of her feet, all past uneasiness forgotten. This place was fascinating beyond measure!
Erasin tucked Jeremy the Jellyfish into her bag and took Rhael’s hand again. “Maybe you can be my lucky charm.” She said, leading Rhael down a long row of stalls to the end where there was a small shooting gallery.
Rhael blinked. “What?” She asked, a little taken aback that there would be guns in a place like this, but also curious as to why there were there.
“I want to try and win one of those t-shirts.” Erasin explained, gesturing to the shirts at the very back of the stall. They were pale grey with a black star in the middle of them. Rhael didn’t like them.
“There are better ones.” She said.
Erasin shrugged. “I like that one.”
Rhael sat down at the base of the stall while Erasin gave the man behind it some money and quickly loaded up the small air gun that she’d been given. Why would Erasin want something like that? Rhael wondered, looking up at the swirling blossoms above them. It wasn’t as though there was anything special about the shirt.
If Rhael ever got a shirt with a star on it, it would have to be a nice shade of red, she decided. She covered her ears with her hands as Erasin shouldered the air gun and quickly fired off a bunch of shots towards the target. The shirt would be red with a golden star. Yes. That would look good.
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Intervalic_Conductor Captain
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2007 4:38 pm
The most frequently asked question in a child's life is Why?. Why can't I have chocolate before dinner? Why are they hugging? Why are you crying? Or, a question more suitable for Rhael: Why are things burning?
Quest As Erasin may have noticed recently and in the past, things are spontaneously combusting. Ms. Erasin may or may not have any clue as to why it's happening, but one thing is sure, it has to do with the new found wardship of Rhael. Rhael in herself may or may not be quite confused as to why flames seem to be following her wherever she goes. The train, her room. And now it is her turn to ask why?Your quest is to delve deep into the fire and explain, or start explaining, or gather your head around, the spontaneous fires and the blazing temperatures. Also, as you're passenger grows older, the block between past life and the present weakens. Although only slightly. Rhael might end up remembering an object, fear, color, favorite food
Note: Hey, we've seen a lot of Erasin's juicy brain matters lately. If at all possible (this is completely optional) wanna try putting Rheal's inner thinking onto paper?
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Posted: Sat May 26, 2007 8:42 am
Ask your question [Growth Quest pt 1] -
Rhael sat at the kitchen table, watching quietly as Erasin tried to scrub out the soot off of the side of Rhael’s bedroom door. It had randomly caught fire the night before and Erasin had doused Rhael with a bucket of water in hopes of remedying the situation. Rhael’s blankets were in the wash and her mattress was on the balcony drying out from its rather unfortunate adventure with said bucket of water.
She kicked her feet irritably as she watched Erasin scrub moodily at a particularly stubborn bit of soot. She did not know why her dreams were always filled with visions of fire – or why she could never really remember anything other than the sensation of being completely lost. She didn’t understand why she dreamed things like this. She honestly didn’t know if there was a good reason for the fear she felt of the night – but she was determined to not let it affect her too much.
“Mummy?” Rhael asked after a few more drawn out minutes of the sounds of scrubbing.
“Yes?” Erasin asked, raising an eyebrow as she scrubbed at the wall with a frown on her face.
Rhael balked. She did not know how to ask the question that she so desperately needed Erasin to answer. She had tried to ask it so many times, but it never sounded right. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could ask the question.
“Why do things burn around me?”
Erasin set down her scrub brush and looked at Rhael, her gaze questioning. Rhael knew that she hadn’t asked it right once again. Erasin was confused.
She hung her head; she’d never get her answer now.
Erasin’s voice filtered through Rhael’s stubborn silence. “I don’t know. We can try and find the answer, though. If you’d like.”
Rhael nodded. She’d like that very much indeed. “Lets.” She hopped out of her seat and ran to hug Erasin. Perhaps this time they'd be able to find some answers.
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Posted: Sat May 26, 2007 8:47 am
Entry Log #9 – [Growth Quest Pt 2]
Dear Journal –
I don’t know what to do. Rhael’s gone and asked me a question that I cannot explain to her even if she had five years of chemistry schooling. It simply doesn’t work the way she thinks it does. I don’t know what it is about Rhael that makes things burn. I suppose I could tell her why things burn in general.
There’s a lot of mythology on the subject. I know that I’ve got to tell her the story of Prometheus and his eternal punishment. I know that that’s a bad idea, however, because the story does not end well for any of the parties involved.
I can’t lie to Rhael. She was so earnest in her questioning of me that to hide the truth from her would be an offense to both her and my intelligence.
I just don’t know how to go about doing this.
I suppose that what I really need to do is to seek out help.
I could call mother. I suppose that she would know best of all of us how to deal with children of unknown origin who may or may not be unconsciously fire gods or something equally traumatic.
But then again, Mother could take one look at Rhael and tell me exactly what’s wrong with her. I don’t want the easy way out. I’ll have to do this on my own. I’ll tell her the stories, and see where that takes us.
She tells me that she dreams of fire. Flames consume her every movement. She’s getting better at controlling them, I’ve noticed. I only have to clean scorch marks off the walls once a week or so though.
I’m never getting my security deposit back.
Rhael has been hitting me with these expectant looks all day and I know that I’ve got to tell her something soon or she’s liable to have a rather nasty tantrum if I don’t think of something to tell her soon.
I don’t know. What does one tell a small child about these sorts of things?
Yes. I’m sorry that you set things on fire. Not much I can do.
It sounds cold, hollow. Not like something that I’d say at all.
I don’t like it.
Rhael’s looking at me again.
Best get this over with.
Erasin
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