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s**t.

I thought it was a monster at first. Angel and I went out to meet Wraith and Shee, and I didn't notice that the flurescent patch of grass had claws... And eyes... And great big fangs.

I thought Eponine, who had her face in the mouth, was being eaten- how could she stay so calm when there was this-

Oh. It was her costume.

I have to admit, compared to the dark, fierce, and rather revealing costumes of everyone else (including me,) this was an excellent refreshment.

She doesn't seem to like it too much though, from my point of view. She thought she did something wrong (I don't see what, I thought she was positively adorable!) and Shee volunteered some clothes for her to change into.

Anyways, I wonder how she put it on. Probably some miracle of science I do not yet know about. I also do not know what it is made of.. She mentioned "Polly-Yes-stir," which is probably something named after an agreeable cook named Polly.

Snuff snuff. Wiggle wiggle.

-----------------Translated from French. Difficult to translate due to the heavy accent.--------------------

These homo sapiens, so extortionate in their hullabalooing, cause me great discountenance in accounting for their embaressing destitution of any utiliation whatsoever.

I am most phlegmatic about their trucultent buffoonery.

It started with the marshiemallow.

I dropped the marshiemallow into the fire, and all of a sudden, the entire bonfire turned GREEN! And the smoke! I do believe I've summoned the Devil. Oh why didn't I listen to Father Ferdinand?

It was all confusion, I recall. Screaming, there was green smoke everywhere! ...I think it was my fault, sort of... Kind of....

I don't understand, one moment it was calm, I was speaking to that lovely lady, Samatha and roasting marshiemallows, but all of a sudden, the fire burned green and an entire cloud of smoke as thick as three-day-old porridge came pouring out!

I remember clearly, everything was suddenly green by the light of the fire. I scooped Angel up quickly in case there was a stampede, and grabbed with my free hand someone- I felt bandages, I hope it was Mista Wraith. He would sort things out...

I can't help but wonder, is this the spirits of Halloween come?

I have heard of this city of men in Spain before. Our crops are exported all over the world, and to Madrid too. All the luxuries that Father Ferdinand condemned and so loathed were shipped to Madrid and then to here- Italian par-fumes, trinkets and jewelry, and the such.

Not that anyone could afford it, being poor peasants, but they were beautiful to look at. We could only purchase the drippings- the most valuable thing we had was a decorative enamel mirror .

But I had always imagined Madrid as a luxurious, beautiful, glorious city, filled with laughing party-goers and lively festivals. In my days it was- I heard the fountains were filled with wine, the streets were paved in gold, and there was a festival every week, and the horses were healthy, sleek, and over twenty hands high.

But now I see nothing more than the crumbles of the ruins. I have never seen Madrid, but the city must have been just as glorious as I imagined it... It is tragic in a way, what the city has become.

The buildings are like old men, toothless and tottering and forgotten of what they had once been. They are the color of dirty bones left in the sun too long- not a pure snowy white, but a filthy-looking brown-gray. The fountain is chipped and cracked and colored by God in the same filthy way as the buildings. And the pavement is as if a child had scattered broken pottery around, stamped it, and left it for the dogs to walk on.

Nothing lasts, even the festivals grow dull and silent, the rivers of wine dry and wither away, leaving only a trace of the glamour. What seemed the daintiest delicacies crumble to dust, and the treasures are no more than a broken statue here, a pile of rust there..........

That Angel! She is nothing but trouble. She is nothing but mischief. She is rambunctioness. Or maybe just an overflow of evergy.

Mister Sain is very angry with me right now. I have retreated back to my room. Not to hide of course! I am not at all afraid of that man. Still, it's a sensible precaution to barricade the door with a few locks and the Com-Pew-Tur, is it not? And preparing my Inter-Communication to call Eponine at the push of a button in case he might break in is perfectly understandable.

Thank Dear God the electricity is back on. Very interesting story, really...

Rabbits, they are interesting. I do not suppose that the King's greatest scribes and poets could even a single ounce of a rabbit's mind onto a roll of paper, really. And those men can do anything.

Maybe it's because back at home, we do not have any of this electricity-spirit to use. Mista Sain tells me that electricity is an angry spirit that flies through the black plastico ropes but can also speed through metal as if it were air. He says that lightning is made out of strong electricity spirits and that if I were to touch it, I would be shocked, stunned, and Possibly Face An Untimely Death. The spirits would go through my body and stop my heart, he says. Well, I admit, that's not exactly how he explained it, but close enough.

There are two paths inside one of the black plastico ropes, and if there were to touch, the spirits traveling in them would fight and shock people. If it were severe enough, all the electric spirits in the establishment would run away and cause a Blackout, where everything goes black. And the electric spirits can cause fire- such mischievious fiends, almost as much as my Angel! I expect that these spirits are very dangerous to handle when angered. But they are quite useful, no?

Anyways, I am not sure what attracts Angel to the black Plastico ropes so much. Maybe she likes the spirits, or they give off a nice smell I cannot sense.

Oh yes, and the electricty spirits have a homebase called the "Circuit Box." That is the palace of the great King and Queen spirits, I suppose, because you can control all the spirits from that one box. There is a large wire hanging out of it.

I was in the hall when it happened. Angel was not in my room, and I was concerned she might bother the other recruits, get trapped somewhere, or be made into roasted rabbit. I was relieved when I found her. "Angel!" I had said. "Come back here, I have your dinner ready." For it was evening, and the night sky had spread her wings already. "Angel!"

But the naughty rabbit only twitched an ear and returned to staring at the wall. Or at least I thought it was staring at the wall when I saw metal paths peering out of the black plastico tubes.

I remembered what Mista Wraith said, that the two paths should never touch-

"ANGEL!" I screamed. "GET AWAY FROM-"

There was a flash of blue sparks. Angel flew back a few feet, and as I ran to her, the Floor-Es-Scent lights in the ceiling flickered like tired glowworms, then with a sigh, went out.

I do not need to tell of the chaos that ensued. It seems that everyone had been using the Electric Spirits, and now that they had all escaped thanks to my bad, naughty rabbit, there was a Blackout where the lights would not shine, no matter how many times you flicked the switch or how hard you bashed a Come-Pew-Tar keyboard against the switch. Not even if one smashes it so hard that the keys fly everywhere and Mista Sain says, "No, stop that, you are Making It Worse."

In the end, they bought in more spirits in a home called Backup Generators. But they were used ONLY for the heating and temperature control, because Mista Sain thinks that "Freezing your butt off to death" is a most unfortunate fate to behold. It was almost midnight when the rest of the electric spirits returns, and Mista Sain told me that I must "Keep that overgrown rodent under control" or else he would "make her into Crispy Fritters."

I need to come out soon, to apologize to my fellow LOTUS members for the inconvienience I have caused them. But I think I should wait until Mista Sain calms down.

It is summer. This Sunday, a big white rabbit follows Estrelas to the knoll in the meadows. The perfume of life hangs in the air, a sweet, sultry scent that appears in the beat of a bird’s wing, the gentle wave of the paradise-green grass, the gentle drone and buzz of a honeybee. The day is warm and balmy with just the barest kiss of a breeze. Rest hangs in the air as the honeybees lazily drone through their chores and the butterflies flick their wings from flower to flower. Now the grass waves above her knees, an ocean of soft, soft, green. It tickles even- the grasses brushes against her tan skin, and it tickles.

At last the wildflowers take to the sky in full splendor. Hundreds of ladies, frozen in the seasons, merrily frolick and party about, explosions of radiance and color so vivid they are almost gaudy. They wear perfume too- exotic scents from places she has never heard of, beautiful fragrances from a world transcending hers. They bob as if acknowledging the fact that no human may ever know their land. All she can see is flowers... All colors, all shapes, all sizes. Their drunken scent sends her into a stupor and she staggers to regain her grip on reality.

Estrelas has seen a parade before. She has seen acrobats, performers, dressy people and classy people, bedecked in their finest garments. They wrap themselves in as many colors as the spectrum contains, yet, Estrelas finds no pleasure in looking at them. They are frauds; their colors are stolen and artificial. But the sincerity of the flowers almost overwhelms her. The sincerity of souls who do not know what it is to fall into despair, to lose hope. They open their hearts to the world and do not expect it to ever be broken.

Today Estrelas sits and watches the rabbits play. The way they frolic and prance, bound by nothing but the constraints of their desires, imposes upon her a strange sort of shame and envy. She doesn’t exactly know what she is so jealous of. Maybe it’s the way the sun shines on them and never rain. The way their pink eyes take in the world around them, all pain and pleasure, sadness and joy, and accept it as a greater whole. The dew on their paws when they leap, the rich dark earth under their bodies, the contentment, the acceptance. And she is ashamed of being so envious.

Angel suddenly breaks away from the warren and hops over to the girl. She licks Estrelas’ hand gently and nudges it for pets. Somehow Estrelas feels better.