FIFTY-THREE:  Hot White HaleSpa North

“I’m here to see Jason Simmons,” Arous said to the receptionist behind the desk at the HaleSpa.  Before leaving her apartment, she put on her best face, literally, her best Amalgamese face.  She shimmered, skin-dancing as an Amalgamese to everyone.  She was a good-skin dancer.  As long as no major catastrophes erupted, she could skin-dance for about six hours.

“Just one minute please and I’ll have a Novice to escort you.”

“If I wanted to talk to a, er, the head, uh, the main person in charge -” Arous floundered.

“The Abbot?  I’m not sure she’d have time to talk to you but our Ministers are fully licensed by the Mercy League and are skilled in all the healing arts.”

“A Minister would be fine, so would a Novice.”

            There was a lot of hot white, but it was scolded by the smell of urine and burning hair. Arous was nervous and couldn’t escape the smell. She kept thinking gardenias and roses with a hint of cedar; but the pungence was shocking.

            “Hi, I’m Novice Hopeful. Right this way,” said the Novice dressed in pastels with her hair in a tight bun.

            Arous followed Novice Hopeful into a large recreation area bright with sun-light and fresh breezes. She zoomed in on a boy sitting in a chair, hunched over, strapped down. He didn’t move he didn’t look up.

            The Novice pointed to him, smiled at Arous and walked off. Arous walked over and sat in a chair beside him. He mumbled and drooled. He lifted his head up enough to look at her and let it fall back down. It was Jason.

            Jason was here because Mike hadn’t been okay.  His pet projects killed him and Jason got blamed for it.  CCTV caught him unlocking the cages.  Jason was paying for his murder as they tried to rehabilitate him.

            She looked at Jason. His hair was fried on the ends from too many electroshock treatments. As he raised his head a little higher, a tear barreled down his nose and dripped off the end. Jason pointed at her.

            “It was me,” she whispered.

            Like an old Charlie Chaplin film being eaten by its projector: he jerked up to meet her gaze. His still pointing finger could move only a short distance from the chair it was strapped to.

            “It was me. I was the one who let the dogs out, not you. It’s my fault but it wasn’t supposed to be like that,” she said. “No one was supposed to die. No one was supposed to get hurt.”  She was crying. Her face hovered so close to Jason’s that her tears soaked his hand.

            “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do to make it right,” she said.

            Arous felt an arm on her shoulder. She jumped. Fearing her confession over-heard, she couldn’t look back to see who was standing behind her.

            “It’s alright. He doesn’t feel a thing. I doubt he even knows who he is now. You’re his sister?” asked Novice Hopeful. She then continued like she was reading from a script, “Sibling guilt is very normal.”

            She bent down and smiled at Arous before walking away.

            “Luna,” he said.

            She cringed. Could he see through her skin-dance?

            “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry,” said Arous.

FIFTY-TWO: Gingin

FIFTY-TWO: Gingin

Priscilla knew that not only was Arous mischievous but she was stubborn, too.  She had the energy and stamina to force her will on anyone caught in her grip.

One day Priscilla took Arous to a market in the Cusp.  A couple of Skin-Dancers, old friends of ours, were performing. They promised to perform a forbidden piece:  the Eternal Breath about the creation of people.  After the performance, while she waited on our friends to meet up with her, she took Edlawit and Arous walking through the market.

“I want,” Arous said after spying a stuffed gingerbread man.

“No, sweet, not today,” came her Priscilla’s melody.

But Arous had already reached up and grabbed the gingerbread man.

“You can’t. No.” Edlawit’s firm compassion rang up the isle as she tried to pry the stuffed toy from Arous’ tiny fingers. Edlawit was only a year older than Arous but her mind and body passed her by about two years.

Arous believed that some stuffed toys contained a real self; a shadow trapped in cloth and thread. She made herself responsible to release them. This simple gingerbread man had caught her eye.  In the tradition of gingerbread men, he was brown.  A white zigzag ribbon gave the impression of a jumper.  He had two red glass marbles for jumper buttons.  Two black marbles outlined with the same white zigzag ribbon make his eyes.  A piece of ribbon went across each writ to simulate cuffs.  There was nothing fancy about Gingin.

“Please.  I love it,” said Arous.

“You can’t. Hikeuh Pris?” said Edlawit looking for adult help.

“No,” said Priscilla and turned back to continue her conversation with a vendor.

 “I love it. Gingin. My Gingin.”  Big tears had welled in her eyes and already begun to run down Arous’ face.

Edlawit grabbed Arous by the other hand. She reached up and grabbed Priscilla, not tugging, just waiting.  Priscilla looked down.

“I know that I told you-” she began as she looked down on the pair.

“But she’s named it already,” said Edlawit.

“Let her have it. She’s named it already,” it was the Diofe’s voice coming out of the little girl. As bad as what Arous did was, Priscilla had to work hard not to laugh. It’s like when a kid at the table opens her mouth and shows her food.  It’s funny even if it’s gross.  Like she told me later, it was just so funny hearing that big voice coming out of that tiny little mouth.  It was so real, yet so ridiculous.

“Oh, Arous, no.  We Skin-Dance. Skin-Dancing is okay. Skin-Walking is not.  You cannot use your gifts to lie.  You cannot be the voice of the Diofe just to get what you want.”

Arous left with her new special Gingin.  Priscilla didn’t hesitate to go straight to the Diofe’s Willing Room with Arous in tow and tell him. He didn’t laugh.  But he sat her on his lap for the next hour in his Willing Room alone.

            We were never surprised by Arous’ Skin-Dancing shenanigans after that.  It was her favorite thing the Diofe had gifted her with. Until they day with the dogs, she had only used it for good.

FIFTY-ONE: the Mist

FIFTY-ONE: the Mist

            Priscilla knew that she would be going back into the Mist.

            So, did I.

            I think everyone of the Mist knew.  The only two in the Bowl not of the Mist were Edlawit and Arous and they had no idea what was going to happen.

            A V-Dot arrived.

             There was a plague just beyond the Cusp that had risen up suddenly. Arous, Priscilla and a couple of other junior Yuhiketuh from the Cusp that had been training with Priscilla at the Bowl all set out for the plagued village.

            In The Bowl there is a sort of atmospheric dome over the whole of it that seals in moisture. The outer wall of this dome follows the Alippiana River. Everything on the outside of the Bowl is called the Cusp.  The Cusp is still considered Alippiana since that moisture bleeds over into the areas surrounding the Bowl. The Bowl overflows and those near it reap the benefits.  This village was said to be on the very edge of the Cusp, but it wasn’t.  It was outside Alippiana. This meant they would be outside the overflowing.  Priscilla would be out of range of her source.

The Diofe is our Source.  Priscilla and I, we don’t need to eat or drink we live on the Diofe.  Inside the Bowl the water acts as a conduit.  He constantly flows into us.

The Mist is the Diofe. It’s the readying place between the sleeping world, the world outside the Bowl and the wide-awake and alive world of the Bowl.

            They were able to port from the Alippiana River to a creek only one quarter mile from the village. Everyone in the Bowl can port.  It seems magical to people in the Sticks and the City so they call us ghost people.  Mostly they don’t believe in us or acknowledge. Porting is simply using a body of water to move to another body of water. It’s not magic and it’s not science, it just is.

To be able to port, you either have something from the water you are going to or have a mind-sight of it.  You could’ve been there before and use your memory. You step into one body of water and step out of another.  Like I said, simple.

            Priscilla had been in Bowl of Alippiana longer than I had and knew her source well. She knew how to tap into the Diofe’s energy through water even outside of Alippiana.

            She knew she was outside of Alippiana.  None of the other girls knew, they all thought that they were under the protection of the overrunning of the Bowl. She didn’t tell them how far away they were, not even Arous.

            Arous tried to save her.  Arous tried to sing her back.

Priscilla was sent back into the Mist that day.  Nobody who comes out of the Mist is supposed to go back and stay there.  If you come across the bridge or by the Chara’s Ferry, the Mist can kill you if you walk into it.

            For days Edlawit and Arous went to the Mist at dusk and dawn to see if Priscilla would come back through the Mist and into the Bowl. Her returning to the Mist was violent.  She spent all her energy singing and healing and there wasn’t much of her left when she was murdered.  She needed the rest. I knew that she may come out for a long, long time.

            I tried to soothe Arous.  Edlawit, the embodiment of patience, could see a faint mind-sight of Priscilla.  Even she couldn’t comfort Arous.

            Arous didn’t know how to wait.

            She was stubborn.