Day of the Doctor - A Study in Dialogue

When I read the overview of this assignment, I was surprised to find myself immediately considering the BBC program Dr. Who. I took a few days to consider which episode I would want to perform the study in dialogue from, when it occurred to me that any of the Doctors and Seasons in which the various actors portray them would work. This show is an intense study in dialogue and in physical communication, as each new actor becomes the Doctor, through his regeneration, in a unique and carefully outlined portrayal of rebirth.
When it came down to which episode I would wish to sit down and view, I found myself considering “The Day of the Doctor” from season 7,  as both imaginative and fun. Within this episode we not only encounter 4 different reincarnations of the Doctor himself, but we also encounter at least 2 of his assistants in both Clara and Rose.
One of the greatest scenes to witness both orally and silently is when the 11th doctor leaps through the time vortex, after sending his fez through first, where-upon Matt Smith leaps into the vortex and lands in Elizabethan England, at the feet of David Tennant’s 10th doctor. From a purely oral standpoint, to walk away from this scene and simply listen to what occurs between the two Doctors is an intense joy and filled with laughter. One can simply imagine Matt Smith’s Doctor being his normal playful, impish and childlike demeanor, very reminiscent of Shakespeare’s Puck from Midsummer Night’s Dream. David Tennant, on the other hand, is befuddled, annoyed, curious and cautious upon meeting his 11th self. What proceeds is a good old fashion, western standoff between the two men.
Though you do not see this as your only listening, but when once again reviewed through the silent viewing mode, both men stand there facing each other with “Ah hah!” expressions upon their faces as they whip out their Sonic Screwdrivers.  Matt Smith proceeds to prance around David Tennant as a child would mocking and making fun of his former self.  David Tennant, while intrigued, gives off body language that leads the viewer to laugh, for it is obvious he would really like to use his screwdriver to make the 11th version of himself become nonexistent.

  Dialogue of the two doctors meeting in Season Seven’s “Day of the Doctor:”

Tenth Doctor: That's a time fissure! A tear in the fabric of reality! Anything could happen!
[a fez comes out of the hole]
Tenth Doctor: For instance... a fez?
[out drops Eleven rolling and coming up to stand before Ten.]
 Eleventh Doctor: [looking at Ten] Oh, that is skinny. That is proper skinny! I've never seen it from the outside. It's like a special effect. Oi!
[grabs the fez]
Eleventh Doctor: Ha! Matchstick man!
The Tenth Doctor: Compensating?
The Eleventh Doctor: For what?
The Tenth Doctor: Regeneration. It's a lottery.
The Eleventh Doctor: Oh, he's cool. Isn't he cool? I'm the Doctor and I'm all cool. Oops, I'm wearing sandshoes!
The Eleventh Doctor: Reverse the polarity!
[they do so, but nothing happens]
The Eleventh Doctor: It's not working.
The Tenth Doctor: We're both reversing the polarity.
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes, I know that.
The Tenth Doctor: There's two of us, I'm reversing it, you're reversing it back again, we're CONFUSING the polarity!

Mercy's Flight

Today was the day!  I could feel it in my bones and feathers.  This was definitely the perfect day… It was the day when Mercy Screech Owl would leave the nest and spread her wings, and all would take notice and applaud.  I peered up at the sky, through the elm leaves, bending and swaying in the gentle warm breeze of early July, in the Adirondack Mountains, near Lake George.  Shadows flittered across the branches and down into my nest, as the clouds moved across the ocean blue expanse above me.  A leaf fluttered down, from higher up the elm we lived in, brushing my head and ear tufts as it traveled the long slow road to the ground below.  No one could prevent me from taking flight today.  This day was made for my flight!

I felt brave.  I was strong.  I knew I would conquer the world.  Today was Mercy’s Flight and it would go down in history for other young screech owls learn from.  I was prepared to spread my wings; my newly formed adult wings.  Man, was I proud of them…  Had anyone seen anything so elegant as MY wings?  I bounced from foot to foot as I waited with anxious excitement for the perfect time to begin. 

“Come on Mercy!”

“What do you think; that it’s Sunday?”

I could hear my siblings in the roost behind me, cackling and taunting as I fluffed out my wings, making sure my feathers were in proper order.  It would not do for such a historical event in Eastern Screech Owl History to be marked by the star performing with matted wings!  What a disgrace.  I turned my head slightly to the left, upon hearing my mother give a soft encouraging hoot.  Her eyes, those wonderful liquid brown eyes, softened with love and encouragement as she watched from behind me. 

I turned once more to face forward, fluffing my chest feathers and strutting boldly to the edge of our home.  I stood there for several minutes allowing the breeze to drift over the tufts of my ears, all the while I continued to stare up at the sky with wonder.  What beauty there was in the ever changing and forming clouds…  Soon I would be able to walk amongst those puffs of pillow like quality...  I could almost feel the delicate pathway beneath my feet…

“Wait… what…” I paused as I looked quickly around “Did anyone feel a rain drop?  I could swear I felt a rain drop.” Glancing upwards I peered with intensity, once more at the clouds… “Does that one look awfully grey to any of you?”  I asked my sisters and brother as the breeze lifted and swayed, playing with my feathers.

I felt my eyes pulled to look over the edge of the nest, following the path downwards towards the ground.  I swallowed hard a queasy sensation deep within my stomach rose up engulfing my very being, as I could taste this morning’s breakfast of worms and digested chipmunk flow upwards into my throat and mouth. Not wishing to embarrass myself in front of my siblings I swallowed once more, gulping down the regurgitated food, leaving a burning sensation pouring down the back of my throat.

 As I stood there trying to contain the anxiety building up within me, I could feel my legs begin to quiver, threatening to give out on and force me to collapse; or even possibly fall over the edge of the nest, plummeting downwards towards my death.  The world began to tilt and sway and I felt as if my chest began to constrict…

 “Cannot breathe…” I gasped out, fluttering my shaking wings, even as I stumbled backwards from the edge of the nest…

 I could hear my heart beating as loud as a drum.  In truth, if I did not know any better it would explode from my chest, taking flight of its own.  Just this thought and image of my heart escaping my body, leaving me a dried shell husk of a screech owl left me coughing as I could not get the air to come into my small body.

“Momma, Mercy is having an attack again!”

“Knew she couldn’t do it. “

“I swear she is never going to leave the nest.”

Their voices, faint and far away, but no less hurtful, while I focused on trying to breathe.  I managed to turn myself away from the edge and stumble over to where momma stood waiting, her wings spread out.  I curled myself close to her body, feeling my breathing slowly beginning to return to its normal self,  as the tightening of my chest finally began to relax...  Once more back in the safety of momma’s loving embrace, I shut my eyes, praying for sleep; where I could dream of dancing and walking on those cloud puffs…

Today… Today was perhaps not the right day.  I think tomorrow is a better day.

Kryptonite or How did the Chicken Cross the Road

Ok… Ok… It’s Saturday, big deal. I lay back on my nest just relaxing and enjoying the cool breeze, as I listen to some 3 Doors Down through my ear phones. Berta next to me is whispering away to Susie all the gossip from the nest in the branch above us. I can hear the boys in that nest cracking the tried and true “What came first? The Chicken or the Egg?” Like I haven’t heard this joke a million and one times? At least get some new material for Robin’s sake.
“Hey Mercy!”
I pretend I don’t hear the call through my shell. I love my hard smooth shell. It’s my own private hideaway. No dents… No cracks… Simple perfection in its creamy texture, though momma keeps an eye out for squirrels and other thieves, such as hawks. It helps that us Eastern Screech Owls have our own signal for alarms and such. Now don’t you make momma mad she will hiss or snap at you to defend us babies…
Speaking of babies, god I wish those two would hush up! All they do is talk… talk... talk! Day and night it’s the same thing! I need some music to scramble my brains! I lift my arms to stick my earphones back on my shell when I hear it again…
“Hey Mercy! Mercy!”
“WHAT!”
I know I shouldn’t scream but all I want to be is left alone so I could lose myself into the vibe of bass guitar and vocals… how can they not understand!!! I mean I know I am a Eastern Screach Owl but someday I shall perform with the greats! Someday I shall be up there on stage with 3 Doors Down, Bon Jovi or even Rob Zombie!
“How did the chicken cross the road?”
I groaned and rolled my shell over in an attempt to tune them out. They have no clue of my anguish having to tolerate untalented shells like them! The music flowed through my outer shell and into my inner self. I began to play air guitar, rocking it out within the safety of my shell to the beats pumping through my headphones.
“If I go crazy then will you still | Call me Superman | If I'm alive and well, will you be | There holding my hand | I'll keep you by my side with | My superhuman might Kryptonite”
Without even realizing I had done it, I had rocked myself right out of my shell! Oh no! All could see me! I was bare! My sisters and brother stared at me as if I was a freak, no longer accepted. I had given up my shell! Reaching down I tried to pull my shell once more back around my body, only it would not reconnect. It was fragmented and in pieces.
Momma came closer and proceeded to clean me off, throwing the headset into the corner. A rumble echoed in my belly… what was that? Could this possibly be a new music? I stared with wonder out from momma’s feathers at the wide world of the woods around me as I listened to all the new noises… Such fascinating music I found myself surrounded by on all sides; not to mention the noises coming from within. I soon forgot the egg I spent so long rocking out inside, and my dreams of rocking out on stage… this new world held me captive… It was my Kryptonite.

Blackbirds Hill

Blackbirds Hill

Looking down at the familiar town of Blackbirds Hill, Melissa Hartley sighed with resignation.  Her hand on the pump, waiting for the gas to finish filling her Volvo’s tank, her eyes slowly closed as her mind was captured by the flood of memories invading her present reality.  She had spent so much time running from her past and the people of this town; and yet here she was once more standing on a precipice. Only this time there was no turning back, no where she could run or hide, and no one to rescue her.  The longer she stood there the more the memories pushed forward, creeping and engulfing her mind.  As try as she might to erect walls, she had to admit, with a soft sigh, there was no escaping Blackbirds Hill.

Lifting a hand to brush a stray strand of deep chocolate hair back from her face, Melissa’s eyes drift to glance over other customers.  She could not help but wonder if any of them recognized her, though she quietly hoped none did.  A flash of what appeared to be a tattoo revealed itself on her inner wrist as she tucked her hair behind her ears.  Swiftly, Melissa brought her hand down, tugging at the sleeve of her shirt; making sure her wrist and the insignia were once more covered.  Unfortunately, she was too late. 

A gasp of shock and recognition flowed through her body as the familiar burning ignited her flesh, informing her they knew she had come home.  She had no doubt who they would send.  In fact, he would volunteer and how can she resist him; to resist him would be to resist herself.  Melissa quickly replaced the pump, closing the tank, moved to get in her car.  She paused only a moment to check on her daughter asleep in the back seat.  Could she keep her from him?  She knew she could not.  Glancing upwards she noticed everyone seemed frozen in time; their eyes glowing slightly, as they turned their gazes in her direction.

“Melisssssa….” The voice echoed all around her.  She would recognize his voice anywhere; no matter how long of a period of time had passed. 

“Welcome home, Melissssa.” 

She cringed as the voices drew out her name. With a jolt of the car, and her foot on the gas, Melissa sped out of the gas station into the night.  About a mile or so down the road, just on the outskirts of town, she pulled over.  Laying her head upon the steering wheel, her knuckles white as they gripped the leather, Melissa attempted to slow her breathing.  “

“It was a hallucination.  It had to be.  Just a fucking hallucination.” She found herself repeating this over and over quietly, so as not to wake Erica in the back seat.  The tears flowed down her face, unheeded, until they soaked her shirt front. 
“God damn you!  God damn you to hell, Mathew!”  She slammed both hands on the steering wheel forgetting her daughter sleeping behind her.  “Why did you have to die?  Why leave me, making it so I have to return here?”

“Mommy?” 

The small voice broke through Melissa’s pain and anguish.  Lifting her hands she wiped her eyes, uncaring that her mascara was smudged across her cheekbones.  Bending to pick up her daughter’s Pooh bear, Melissa tucked it next to her, before stroking her hair and cheeks.

“Sorry baby, Mommy didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Mommy, why you crying? You need a hug from Pooh?”  Her daughter’s innocent question brought a smile to Melissa’s face.  Perhaps this wasn’t so bad, and even if it was she would fight.  She had a reason to fight, and her name was Erica.  She would not let the darkness have her daughter.

“No… I think Pooh needs you to hug him baby… We still have a bit to go till we get to Nanna’s house.”  Turning once more to face forward, Melissa took several calming breaths and started the car.  As she drove she sang softly along to the music playing on the radio, allowing the lyrics to soothe both her daughter and her own mind. 

Looking out the windows of the Volvo into the night, Melissa could not help but note that Blackbirds Hill seemed to be the town time forgot existed.  Nothing had changed, or at least it appeared that way at first glance.  Looking closer she could see new age shops, a deli on the corner of Market and Main, and a new bookstore where Frank’s Piano Repair shop once stood.  A slight shiver ran up her spine.   She still was unsure if she was ready for this, but she had nowhere else to go.  Mathew’s death in the car accident had left them without enough funds to survive, let alone pay a mortgage in Long Island.  Whether or not she liked it, returning home was her only logical option.

 Pulling up in front of the old Victorian Melissa sat for several minutes just staring at the home she grew up in.  Her daughter’s bouncing laughter of excitement and the knock on her window drew her attention.  She had not even realized anyone was there.  Her wrist once more flared as fingers splayed on the outside, calling to her.  Without even thinking, almost as reflex, Melissa lifted the hand, which held the tattoo, and placed her own upon the window.  The cool glass could not stop the connection.  Her eyes pulled upwards to look into a face matching her own. 

“Steven…” she whispered.  The very one she had feared seeing, and yet here he was.  He was her twin, the only one who could see deep within her very being.  Nothing about her was hidden from him, and vice versa.  Her lashes came down, only to open wide as she heard another familiar voice…

“Now, Steven… you let that poor girl out of the car!  What do you think you’re doing?  For shame, it’s past 10pm and people around here are sleeping. We don’t need you two starting your antics already and waking the dead!” 

“NANNA! NANNA!!”

Erica’s excitement came through her own senses, bringing her once again to reality.  Unbuckling her-self got out of the car and stretched lightly before opening the back car door.  She chuckled at her grandmother’s words, though she did recall a time when Steven and her tried to wake the dead.  Looking with amusement at her twin, she lifted Erika down.  She knew better than to show fear or trepidation. 

Standing back she watched as her grandmother swept her daughter up in a large hug.  One would not think, seeing her diminutive frame, the strength and power Eleanor Westerly possessed; and yet she was not a woman to be trifled with.  Many in Blackbirds Hill learned this lesson the hard way, others still respected and kept their distance from the Westerly Family.  The people of Blackbirds Hill knew better than to cross Eleanor Westerly, for one never knew if a loved one would be there the next day should be brave enough to challenge her. 

“Welcome home, Melissssa.” Her twin threw his arm around her shoulders, revealing the matching insignia upon his inner wrist.  He walked up the cobblestone path, keeping her close to him, almost as if he was afraid should he release her she would escape and run once more.  Melissa paused and looked behind her at the glowing lights of town, beckoning and twinkling at her.  They almost looked as if they were laughing at her, daring her to say different.  With a purse of her lips, she bit down upon her bottom lip for several seconds…

“Yeah… Welcome home.”

Melissa muttered softly to herself before turning and allowing her brother to guide her through the heavy oak doors.  She didn’t even flinch when the doors closed behind them, though no one touched them; the hidden, unseen voices chattering and whispering about Steven and Melissa as they moved forward into the familiar darkness of Westerly Hall. 

To Escape the Nothing Monster

To Escape the Monster

She stood there and stared at the door before her.  Her thoughts were a jumbled with memories even as her emotions cycled through the tumult of feelings she worked so hard to run away from.  One could hear the voices on the other side, but as hard as she attempted, still to open that door and walk through seemed impossible.  Hand poised to knock, and then lowered once to rest by her side.  “Why… why after all these years must it be so difficult.” She could not prevent the thought from slipping in.  Having run away from this very house so many years ago; and yet here she was quaking with fear, frozen as a deer in headlights upon a lonely highway at night.  Eyes closed… Breath deep… Relax… And yet she is captured by the very memories she sought to escape, pulling her down the rabbit hole, to a place filled with tomorrows and yesterdays…

16 years earlier

The house was finally quiet as she woke with the dawn’s light; her body sore after last night’s beating.  Gingerly she maneuvered herself off the mattress on the floor, pushing aside her threadbare blanket.  Truthfully, it should have been no different than any other beating, but it was.  Her feet touch the cold wooden floor before her, spring was here but it was still chilly in the mornings.  She had given up many years before believing in fairy tales.  No one was going to rescue her. There was no Godmother waiting to wave her wand and magically turn her nightmare into a reality, in which she had loving parents, a good home, and food; never having to feel the bite of the whip or her head smashing into a wall again.

As she stood with caution, her body stretched and attempted to conform to her eleven year old frame.  The pain rocked through her, blossoming up her back; its fingers reaching out to brush against every fiber of her being.  The assault forcing a gasp from her young lips, her body doubling over; quickly she bit down upon her bottom lip in hopes of not making a sound, not wishing to wake the Monster in the room next to hers.  Slowly the pain ebbed, fading but never truly gone.  Too many years have gone by, the pain almost a welcome friend by now; leaving the reminder she still lived.  She no longer loved the Monster, in truth; she could not remember what it felt like to feel love.  Love was dangerous and left one open to even more pain.  It was better to feel nothing… to be nothing… than to risk allowing emotions within her small space of existence to give her hope.

Having gotten dressed she walked on her toes, to the bathroom, knowing any noise could wake the sleeping beast.  Grappling blindly for the light switch, she finally found what she sought.  The dull dead glow of the soot covered bulb filled the room.   A dribble of water fell from the faucet, just enough to not cause noise, but she could still brush her teeth.  Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, while her knuckles turned white; she stood there staring at the image in the dirty mirror.  Though her face reflected back to her, it was not her own image she saw, but rather that of the Beast, as he leered and laughed the night before. 

After so many years, habit had developed in which one worked to escape his gaze by appearing to be invisible.  This was her super power: invisibility; no one could see her and no one noticed her.  At times she wondered if she lived in the land of “No Ones.”  Did this make her a nothing?  She stood there staring back at the reflection, wishing her brain would quiet.  She feared he would hear her, even simple thoughts somehow the beast would know, and the nightmare would begin again.  Her hands came up to cover her mouth, willing herself not to scream as the pain racked her once more.  The knowledge that the “No Ones” would pay little to no attention to her sat upon her frail shoulders.  What did it matter to those on the outside?  She would walk into school and still “No One” would notice as she bit her lip, sitting down at her desk with effort.  “No One” would not ask if she was ok or needed help, as “No One” wish to know.  What the “No Ones” did not know allowed them to go about their lives within oblivion. 

It was all her fault.  She knew this.  Acceptance of the blame was also habit.  Obviously she had done something to deserve the fresh bruises and whip marks upon her back and legs.  She tried to remember what caused last night make it so she was not invisible.  “Why had her power failed her?  Had she looked the wrong way?  Not fetched him a beer quickly enough?  Were the dishes washed improperly?”  Through the cyclone of questions, she could find no answer.  At times there was no answer.  In the end he enjoyed her screams, the pain he inflicted upon her.  She stood there for what felt like hours, and yet was simply minutes.  She knew it had been different.  How could it not be?  Never before had he demanded she take her clothes off.  Always in the past he left her clothed while the belt kissed her young form.  Except why the change last night…?

He had not been drunk, unless one counted the excitement that oozed from his very pours.  She had been hiding in her room, using the hall light to do her homework by, when he came in.  Her eyes looked up at him, a rabbit frozen upon the floor, fear and acceptance lighting her eyes that the Monster had come.  Her shoulders tensed as she waited for him to move.  The scent of his foul breath seeping over her, crushing any other as it fought to dominate her spirit.  The Monster stood there, tall and broad, his body weight excessive from the multitude of drinking and drugs over the years.  Tendrils of fear began with her stomach, clenching her ribs making it hard for her to breathe.  Slowly they moved over her skin causing goosebumps to appear on her body.  Eyes downcast she avoided looking upon him.  Perhaps if she willed it her super power would return and he would leave, having forgotten for the moment her mere existence. 

“Little bitch…” The words hissed from his dry, cracked lips.  “Looking at men… little whore… just like your mother!”  She clenched the pen wishing she had the courage to stab him with the very tool she used to do homework.  She knew it was futile to deny his accusations.  To do so would only fuel his excitement and rage.  “Stand up!”  The order came; only still she sat there hunched over shivering, frozen in time.  “STAND UP I SAID!” His fingers ripped through the long strands of her blonde hair, dragging her across the room to the bare mattress.  She felt the dull ache flowing over her scalp attempting to tune out the pain itself. 

Her head connected with the wall, as she was thrown upon the mattress.  His breathing had hitched and grown more feverish with anticipation.  Lying there upon the bed she attempted to curl herself up, seeking protection for what was next.  The sound of his belt unclipping and sliding from his pants reminded her of what a snake would sound as it slithers towards you about to strike.  For some reason the movie “Ricky Ticky Tavi” came to mind.  She recalled the snake as it hovered and swayed, waiting to strike down the small child, bringing the gift of death.  Why did she not die?  What made it so she had to stay in this hell?

“Take your clothes off. “ Still she did not… no could not move.  Her muscles contracted and tightened, preventing her from standing.  His booted foot connected with her side, and a scream erupted from her soul.  She could not prevent that scream’s escape even if she had wanted to.   “Now take your fucking clothes off, or I will do it for you!”  Placing a hand upon the wall next to her, she could feel the cold plaster under her fingers as she attempted to stand.  Her hands moved over her body, slowly removing her clothes.  Her mind blanked out the scene, allowing her to escape into her own fantasies.  Had she been able to realize it was her innocence and youth that excited him to a state of rage, perhaps she would have fought back.  No... She wouldn’t.  Nothing would prevent him once he reached this heightened state.  “No One” was there to rescue her or make the nightmare stop. 

Standing before him in only her panties, she kept her dull blue eyes staring at the ground, her hair hanging in long strands about her head and face.  “Take all your fucking clothes off, bitch…” Her fingers shook as the hitched within the elastic band of her underwear, little white ones with small faded pink flowers etched upon them.  Lifting her right foot, followed by her left one she stepped out of the small scrap of cloth, letting it simply lie there upon the hardwood floor.  The coolness of the room barely penetrated her brain, standing there with her young burgeoning body just beginning to enter puberty bared to his eyes. 

He wrapped the belt around his hand, creating a firm grip as he stood back.  The sound it made slicing through the air caused time to slow down.  Her mind looked upon the scene as one watching a movie in slow motion.  The feeling engulfed her leaving her watching in horror and fascination as if it took forever for the beast to connect his whip to her body.  The screams came forth.  She could not resist them.  The kiss of each stroke of the belt caused her to run around the Beast, in that empty room, all except for that mattress.  His lips turned upwards in a smile, as glee and excitement flowed from him.  The backs of her legs and back soon became covered, as did the front.  She could barely hear his words, her screams flooding her mind and soul.

“Bitch… Whore… Slut… Like your mother, the fucking whore! I will show you what a fucking man is!”  He snarled; drool and spittle flying around the room.  He laughed at his own images he evoked with each sting of his belt and the foul language he used to beat her psychologically.  Was there ever a time she loved this Monster?  She could not recall.  A far off memory seeps through recalling a time when there was laughter and smiles, obviously just a fragment of another reality.  She does not know that child who laughed and giggled.  The belt comes down across her young breasts and stomach, bringing her crashing to her knees before him.  Her arms wrapped around her frame seeking to hide, and yet he does not cease; her submission driving him further over the edge.

Her brain screamed out “Stop!  STOP!  I AM NOT HER!” yet her voice was lost amidst the cries wrenched from her very soul.  It felt as if “Time” laughed at her.  The voices within her brain laughed at her, mocking her weakness and inability to fight back.  The “No Ones” turned away, ignoring her pleas, leaving her to the monster, for him to feast upon her flesh and pain.   The woman who should of loved and protected her, lost within the haze of drugs, down stairs.  Once she called her mother… now she simply thought of her as nothing.  Finally the beating ends.  He stands above her, staring down at her bruised and battered body upon the wooden planks, for what feels like eternity.  Turning he walks from the room leaving her huddled, a mass of bruises and clotting blood.  He hasn’t even acknowledged her, called her by name.  She is not even sure he knows her name, or if she exists enough to have an identity.  

Crawling over to the dirty mattress she lies there, curled within herself, rocking back and forth.  Quiet tears creep down her cheeks as she whispers “I am not her… I am not her…” repeatedly, until the blessed darkness overwhelms her, allowing her to pass out.   Her mind comes back to stare once more at the image, and for the first time she sees herself;  long blond hair, pale haunted blue eyes, and skinny body.  She knows if she stays she will die.  Where this thought comes from she knows not but as it takes hold of her a light flares up in those eyes.  Escape… She can escape… She had to if she wished to live.  Finishing up in the bathroom she moved down the stairs, trying her best not to cause a sound.  She avoided breakfast, but grabbed an orange to stick in her backpack.  The knowledge of freedom rushes through her, causing her to shake with fear.  What if he found her?  She could not let that happen.  She had to run… RUN!  She had to leave and keep on running. 

Opening the door partway, she took one last look around the building she had called home for her bare existence, before slipping through and outside into the brisk morning air of early May.  Where could she go?  Who would believe her?  She needed to hide. 

Heading down the street past her school, she heard the morning bell signaling the start of the day, only she continued on.  “RUN!” Her inner self demanded, and so she did, running till she came to the City Library.  She hid amongst the books, allowing the hours to slip by, losing track of time as her body ached and called out for her to rest.  She nibbled slowly upon her orange, reading the stores of books before her.  Here she was safe.  The Beast could not find her. 

Morning became afternoon, and soon afternoon slipped away to become evening.  A Librarian walked over to where she sat hunched within the Children’s corner, cuddled upon a bean bag.  Leaning down to touch her arm, meaning no harm, only wishing to inform her the library was about to close; and yet she screamed and jumped shaking as she scrambled backwards.  The elder woman could see she was harmed and needed help.  Standing she offered her some juice and graham crackers, which she accepted gratefully.  While she sat and nibbled delicately upon the snack, the Librarian called 911. 

Soon the girl was surrounded by various police and social workers.  One, a female also, made her retreat into the bathroom and present her back for viewing.  Pictures were snapped and various reports filled out.  Questions were asked of how she became in such a state.  The adults all assured her she would not have to go back to the Monster.  She was going somewhere safe.  She listened but did not believe.  There was nowhere safe, and yet for the first time in her meager life the “No Ones” became “Some One.”  A small blossom of hope opened within her.  It was tiny, a speck really, and yet it filled her with such possibility that maybe it was finally over.  She was no longer a nothing.

Present day

She came forth from her memories to find herself standing once more facing the door.  The voices were still flowing through the wooden structure.  She had run for 16 years, it was time to finally stop running.  Lifting her hand she knocked, resolution, determination and fear flooding that simple knock, forcing it to sound as a cannon echoing through her skull. 

The door opened to find her faced with the Monster, himself, only he had grown old.  He was no longer the young, strong vicious man he once was, who filled her reality with nightmares, and her dreams with visions of darkness.  Now he stood there bent and withered by age and time.  His eyes, the same blue as hers, came to rest upon her face.  She was surprised to see them fill with tears as the haunted expression of one who has been hunted by his own demons, as she gazed upon him. 

Yes he was the Monster, and still he was not.  There was no longer anything for her to fear.  She had finally won.  It was not her who was the nothing, but rather him.  She found she could no longer hate him, and only feel pity for what he was now.  As their gazes stood locked, unable to retreat, her voice reaches out filled with ice and regret…

“Hello Father, it has been a while.”

Once Upon A New York City

Once Upon A New York City

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a little girl who had a very kind heart.  She was a very special girl who was loved by both her mother and father…

Ok, hold up.  Stop right there.  If you’re going to write this, then write the truth.  It’s time to backtrack and finally set the record straight on this particular fairy tale.  Yeah I know, EVERYONE thinks they know the story of Cinderella, or at least they know what Disney and the Grimms wish them to.  Let me tell you, NONE of that is the truth.  Who am I and how can I possibly know?  Why, I was there for it all.  The name’s Drusilla… but you can simply call me Dru. 

Well now that the introductions are over… Let’s get back to business shall we?  How do I know the entire story about Cinderella is a bunch of lies?  I lived it!  That’s how!  Do I sound peeved?  Annoyed?  You bet your arse I am!  Thanks to that spoiled little bitch my entire life has been turned upside down!  I can’t even get a date without some guy saying to me “Oh you have the same name as Cinderella’s ugly stepsister!”  No shit Sherlock!  The grand prize for most clueless goes to! 

“Breathe Dru… Breathe.  We are here to tell the truth, remember?  To finally get the real story out there, and not the made up nonsense everyone believes to be the truth.”

Ana reminds me as I sit here in the very booth of the diner our mother met Cin’s dad.  She is right.  I look back across at her apologetically before continuing to explain.  It’s just that this all makes me so angry! Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee as I contemplate what to say next.  Truthfully the best way to tell this story is from the beginning.  That beginning happened fifteen years ago…

Past

Once upon a time, in the City of New York, there was a woman named Beth, who worked as a waitress in a small diner within the Theater District of Manhattan, over on 54^th Street.  Beth had beauty and grace, the kind that reminded customers of the old Hollywood actresses, such as Greta Garbo or Audrey Hepburn.  She had a talent for making every customer feel welcomed and special, not to mention never forgetting their names or how they took their coffee.  It was because of her beauty and giving personality, many customers would return every day to simply seek attention from Beth. 

Once she had dreams of becoming an actress, who performed on Broadway, and would win the applause of thousands.  Those dreams were the dreams of the young and were laid aside when she became pregnant at a young age with her first child, Anastacia.  A single mother at 19, she instead worked to provide for her child; always determined that her daughter would never give up on her dreams.  A few years later she would have another daughter, Drusilla.  Though their life was never easy and often they had to do without extras, Beth made sure her daughters were able to learn how to appreciate what they did have.  At night, she would fill their heads with stories of magic and the glamour of Broadway.  The two girls loved when their mother acted out the stories, and the three of them would dress up in their small apartment.  This was a magical time filled with love, neither girl knowing their lives were about to change. 

Each afternoon Anastacia and Beth would leave school only to come to the diner with their homework…

“Hey Ana!  Dru!  You girls want some cocoa and sandwiches?”  Frank, the short order cook and owner of Frank’s Diner, would greet them as they slipped in their favorite spots at the counter; his Italian accent thick and heavy, as he waved a spatula towards the two girls. 

“Hi Frank!”  Both girls chorused… It had become tradition to expect Frank to ask about hot chocolate and food.  Dru looked to her sister, and then around the diner itself.  She noticed their mother talking to an unfamiliar gentleman, definitely not a regular.  “Hey Ana… who’s that mom’s talking to?” 

Ana peered around her sister, pushing her glasses up on her nose, while trying to see who Dru spoke of.  “Don’t know… probably just some guy asking directions.  Anyway, what does it matter and I got a Calc test to prep for, Dru.  You so worried who momma is talking to, ask her!”

Dru was peeved at her sister for being so annoyingly nerdy.  She sat there with her own books open, tapping her pen on the counter as she watched her mother and the man talking.  She frowned deeply noticing the man had his hand over her mother’s on the table, and that her mom was standing awfully close to him.  Something was not right.  A chill ran up her spine leaving her uneasy.

“Here ya two go!  One Hot Chocolate with Cinnamon, and Grilled Cheese on Whole Wheat for the lovely Ana!” Frank’s booming voice interrupted Dru’s thoughts as he placed their food before them on the counter.  “For Dru we have Hot Cocoa with extra Whip Cream and a swirl of Caramel; plus, a Grilled Cheese with Ham!” 

Ana dived right into her meal while Dru simply stared at her Hot Chocolate, her lips pinched together.  “Now little one…” Frank began as he bent his large frame to peer under her hair at her face “Why so serious?”

Dru looked up at Frank and motioned towards her mother “Who is that man talking to mom?  Do you know Frank?”  Her voice held both impatience at unknowing and a quiver of fear at the intimacy her mother and the man portrayed.

“Ahhh, yes… Well… I got orders to fill… Can’t keep the guests waiting, now can I?  Who else is going to cook the food?”  Frank quickly wiped his hands on his apron, avoiding the question Dru put to him as he skirted back around the counter.  “Now you two eat up!”  With a sigh of frustration at having no answers, Dru did exactly that, eating and focusing on her American History homework.

Later that evening, back in their small apartment, as the three of them sat down to dinner, Beth looked upon her two daughters.  Her eyes were glowing with excitement and her body tense, almost as if she could not contain whatever it was she had to share with them.

“Girls…” she began as she sat slowly and carefully down placing the bowl of pasta and meatballs on the small table.  “I have some news, some amazing and wonderful news!”

“Does this have to do with that man you were talking to today?” Dru asked, her voice more aggressive than she meant for it to be.  She was immediately sorry for the way she spoke and muttered “Sorry, Momma.”

“No, no… it is ok.  You are absolutely right, dear heart.” Beth reached across the table to take a hand of both girls within her own.  A soft smile upon her lips, tilting her head slightly to the side, she explained “Ana… Dru… his name is Anthony Westwood, and he has asked me to marry him!”

“WHAT!”  Dru and Ana squealed at the same time in shock and wonder.

“You’re getting married?” 

“What about us?” 

“Where will we live?” 

“Who is going to take care of us?” 

The two girls began to fire off questions, both talking over top of the other.  Beth sat back laughing at their innocence and with joy.  Holding out her arms for both of them, which the girls rushed to hug their mother, she stroked their hair as she explained. 

“Ah, my silly precious girls, what imaginations you both have.  You will live with me of course.  Anthony with be your new father and here is the best news of all.  He has a daughter your age.  You will have a sister.  Her name is Cindy Elizabeth.”  They listened to their mother’s voice explain all this with awe and wonder.  Dru could not help but feel scared, though she kept it to herself, not wanting to ruin her mother’s happiness.

After the news of that night, time simply flew quickly.  The girls met Anthony and liked him.  He was a kind and jovial man, not to mention very handsome.  Though they were unsure what it was exactly he did, they knew he was a corporate lawyer, and he was wealthy.  Anthony helped the girls to feel at ease, and welcomed.  They loved him simply for making their mother happy. 

When they met Cindy for the first of several family dinners, Dru and Ana were very nervous.  Cindy spent the entire dinner texting her friends on her iPhone.  She also made comments about their home of how “quaint and adorable” it was to live in such a tiny home.  They had never met anyone like Cindy before.  All their friends at school had parents who worked and lived within the same neighborhood.  Cindy, on the other hand, went to a private school, and shopped at stores on 5^th Avenue.  She talked excessively about exclusive designers and how fun it would be to take Dru and Ana shopping. 

“Oh, we are going to be the best of friends!  I can already tell!” Cindy exclaimed in a false voice while hugging the two girls’ goodbye that first evening.  “Isn’t this just simply exciting!  We will go shopping, and you can introduce me to your friends… well maybe we can do that another time!  Ta ta!” and with a wave and buzz of her iPhone she was out the door.  This was their life with Cindy in the months that lead up to the wedding, lots of false promises and insults hidden under the mask of civility. 

Life didn’t get any better after the wedding, though it did become overwhelming for Dru and Ana.  They were enrolled at Lemon Prep, a private school in upper Manhattan.  Soon they were surrounded by top technology and students from some of the wealthiest families of NYC.  Ana quickly fell in love with all the technology and potential for learning.  Dru, being more artistic, discovered the art studios. It also became apparent quickly to both girls, that within the chain of hierarchy, Cindy was Queen Bee of the popular crowd.  Cindy introduced Ana and Dru as her new sisters, only when she did she made it sound as if both girls were simply a charity she took on.  Obviously the kids Cindy ran with would not be accepting Ana or Dru any time soon. 

Home life was different, with the girls never having a maid before.  Each of them still got up in the morning and made their beds, while Cindy simply left her room a mess for the help to clean up after her.  If they wished for a snack, they cleaned up after themselves.  Cindy on the other hand, would order the maid to fix her something and leave her dishes scattered around the house with half eaten food.  In truth, it became clear very soon to Beth and her daughters that Cindy had no concept of responsibility and was very much a slob.  Beth decided it was time to change things.  She spoke with Anthony, gaining his approval before giving her orders to the help.  Once she made clear her intentions she called a family meeting in the living room. 

“Cindy…” Beth began her voice kind and yet firm. “There will come a day when you will be on your own living in the city.  As that day is not long off, you need to learn responsibility.”

Cindy scoffed and ignored Beth, more interested in texting and posting on Facebook.  Beth, noticing that Cindy was ignoring her, walked over and lifted the phone from Cindy’s hands, leaving her stunned with her mouth open.

“Now perhaps you will listen and show respect to others while they speak.”  Beth stated coldly as she moved back away.  “As I was saying, it is time you learned responsibility.  I have had a long talk with your father, and he agrees.” She pauses to take in Cindy’s reaction.

“Daaadddyyy!” Cindy whines “She is being mean!  She took my phone!” Anthony listened to her, his eyes sad as they look upon her for what felt like the first time.  He had not realized how spoiled his daughter had truly become.  Wishing only the best for her when her mother died at such a young age, he sought to surround her in luxury. 

“Beth is right” He explains, his voice tinged with sad weariness, as he passes a hand over his face.  “You have been given everything a young girl could wish for, but you have no concept of responsibility.  How will you survive out there in the real world?”

“I will live here with you, daddy!” Cindy waves her hand away at such nonsense.

“No pumpkin, you will not.  There will come a day you will live on your own, as such you need to learn.”

Beth stepped forward and crouched low to take Cindy’s hands “We want to teach you to become a better woman.  A woman who can survive no matter what life throws at her.”

Cindy never liked their plans for her.  Every morning she had to get up and make her own bed.  She was put on an allowance, the same as Dru and Ana.  If she wished to eat a snack, she had to clean up after herself.  Cindy was forced to eat meals without her iPhone, and was made to come home after school to do homework, the same as her step-sisters.  If she wished to go shopping or attend an event she must ask permission from her father and new mother before going.  She was only allowed to go if her grades were improved, homework was done and her chores were finished. 

Life would continue like this, with Cindy complaining to her friends about her horrible step mother and her evil ugly step-sisters, who made her life hell!  Everyone believed Cindy, poor little rich girl forced to live the life of an average teenager.  It all would change Senior Year, with the Senior Prom.  Ana was going, and as she had no date, thanks to Cindy malicious rumor mongering, she asked her sister if she would like to come with her.  Dru jumped at the chance to see the very thing she would have to wait another two years for. 

Cindy, on the other hand, was grounded.  She had been caught shoplifting at a boutique in SoHo.  Beth and Anthony made Cindy pay the proprietor back with her allowance, plus grounding her from attending Senior Prom.  What no one knew was Cindy already had her dress, custom made with Marc Jacob shoes.  She waited until all were gone, Ana and Dru to the Prom and Beth and Michael out to the Opera.  Pulling the dress out from deep within her closet, she quickly got dressed, did her makeup and called for a cab. 

Upon arriving at the Prom, Cindy was greeted by her multitude of friends.  Ana and Dru were shocked to see their step-sister, but they were not the kind to make a scene.  Cindy simply smirked in their direction before wandering off to dance.  It was of no surprise to anyone when Cindy was crowned Prom Queen that evening. 

“Oh, thank you!  Thank you everyone!” Cindy gushed into the microphone.  “I especially wish to thank my two beloved sisters, Ana and Dru.  Without them what ever would I do?” This was followed by multitudes of snickers and laughter throughout the crowd. 

Present day

So there you go… There were no glass slippers.  No fairy godmother to come rescue Cindy.  All you had was a spoiled little rich girl, who always won in the end.  What happened to Cindy?  Why does everyone want to know what happened to Cindy?  Fine, I will tell you. 

Cindy met her Prince Charming alright, though he wasn’t very charming in the end.  He blew through her money and now poor little rich girl is having to earn her livelihood the hard way.  I look up as a fresh cup of coffee is placed in front of me by a very pregnant waitress.

“Thanks Cindy…  Tell Frank Dru said hi.”  What can I say…? Life’s a bitch, you know?