Written by a conglomeration of bugs with many legs
If they insist on a person (for legal reasons): anyone but Veronica
I refuse to watch anything that will make me sad. I hate heartbreak and I hate loss. Maybe that makes me immature. I don’t care.
If I went to the doctor to stop wallowing, why would I force myself to be sad? Feels like a waste of money.
I have not looked in the mirror recently. Stupidly, I was shocked to see that a scab I’d been picking got ugly.
Fortunately, I subscribe to cartoon law. That means I can blink it away and I’ll be brand new again. Doesn’t work on my personality, though. Sucks. Maybe then I’d be a more likeable person.
“I think you’re likeable,” comes a raspy voice. “You’ve got this whole ‘I don’t care about how I look’ thing going and I think it’s endearing.” I turn in the direction of the voice. A guy emerges from the shadowed part of my room. I think there’s a hole there. Maybe a portal.
“I do care about how I look. I care a lot about how I look, actually.”
“You do? Oh. I just figured cause of your outfit—”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Oh! That’s the look you’re going for. Cool, cool. I like it. Sort of like a chic burn-out look.”
“How did you even get in here?” I ask. He points at the shadowed corner of my room. I’m satisfied with his answer. “What do you want from me?”
“Honestly—I came here to kill you at first.”
“Kill me?!”
“I’ve been coming here for about a year now. Kind of just waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Is that why I have those nightmares? Are you here on those nights?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if we compare dates you can get to the bottom of that?”
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“You super lucked-out. Come to think of it, I did too. See, you actually have a ton of really useful magika. The queen could use a mage like you.”
“Why did you want to kill me to begin with?”
“I’m wondering the same thing! Just following orders here.”
“So weird. I’m not a mage.”
“Not yet. Are you ready to meet the queen?”
“No.”
“Come, take my paw in your paw.”
“It’s a hand; I have a hand.”
“Sucks for you. Come.”
So I do. I take my companion’s paw in my hand. Then we fall backwards into what I can only assume is another portal. I don’t feel nauseous at all when we end up upright in another room.
It’s beautiful. A big library, I think.
“This is a really cool library,” I comment.
“Not a library. This is our armory.”
“Where are the weapons?”
“On the shelves.”
“The pen is indeed mightier than the sword. That’s beautiful.”
“No—those books have spells in them. We fight with magika. Sometimes we use swords. I have a sword.”
“Oh. I feel kind of embarrassed now.”
“Don’t. You only looked stupid in front of me.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Smaller audience means less humiliation.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“What colors do you like?”
“Oh, man, I dunno. My favorite color changes every week.”
“What colors do you look good in?”
“None.”
“Try this on.”
“Do you have a place where I can change?”
“Fitting room’s over there.”
“Cool.”
I dress myself; look in the mirror; emerge.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Awesome. Makes you look like you’re super good at fighting.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t tell anyone else that. We’ll work on it.”
“Okay then.”
My companion leads me out of the armory and into a gorgeously adorned hallway. I get scared when I see a demon. But I figure he won’t try to hurt us given that my companion’s probably a higher-up. You’d have to be stupid to attack a superior. Stupid, or fed up. I wonder how their employees are treated here?
“Okay, we’re outside the throne room. Let’s see your outfit. Let me just fix this little...there! All done. Okay! Big smile; be respectful, be humble. And don’t stare. I know the Queen’s beauty is hypnotic, but staring is weird and gross. Don’t be like that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Awesome. Okay! Opening the doors now!”
So my companion opens the doors.
And then we’re met with rubble. A completely devastated wasteland.
“The throne room is, like, an outdoor throne room?” I ask. Silence. I turn to face my companion. His eyes are bulging out of their sockets. He looks sorta silly. But then I figure he’s offended by my comment, so I nudge him. So much for being likable. “This is a nice way for the Queen to get some air,” I add in a lame attempt to regain brownie points.
He releases a shaky breath. “The throne room is not supposed to be outside. It’s a room.”
I widen my eyes. Now I look silly, too. But it’s a fleeting thought once I process that the throne room must have been attacked and wrecked. And my companion probably has no idea where his queen is.
“Oh, this is...bad,” I verbalize my thoughts. An idea floats into my head. “Hey, maybe we can ask the demon guard what happened?”
“What demon guard?”
“Down the hall. Guarding a room.”
“We don’t have demons guarding rooms. We don’t have demon employees at all. You saw a demon?! And said nothing?!” He’s mad. Now I look and feel silly.
I decide to defend myself. “He didn’t look very menacing to me.”
“Not very menacing? Do you want to fight him then?” My companion shoots back at me.
“I told you I don’t know how to fight.”
A series of little earthquakes interrupt us. We turn around. They were footsteps. The demon’s there.
“That’s gonna make my job a lot easier,” comes his low, gravely voice.
“Where is the queen?!” My companion demands.
The demon chuckles. “You should be more worried about saving your own life right now.”
My companion smirks and crosses his arms. He scoffs; stands proud and tall. “You don’t stand a chance against m—“
He’s flying through the air before I could even blink. I watch in shock as he plummets face-first into the grass. Apparently, demons have stretchy, elongating limbs. Gross.
I tear my gaze away from my unconscious companion to instead focus on the demon. I’m not personable. Conversation has never been my strong suit. I’m definitely not charming. But I have to think of something to save myself. I gather all my courage, clear my throat,—
“Demon: there’s something you should know,” My voice sounds unfamiliar to me. I can’t even be sure it’s really me who’s talking. “There’s really no need to fight me. I promise I’m not a threat. See, I’m not even from here. What I can do is take my friend here and go back to where I came from.”
He opens his mouth to speak—
“And never come back again!” I interrupt.
“Little kid,” he growls.
“Yeah?”
“Look behind you.”
Funnily enough, I come face to face with his fist. Those damned elongating arms. Suddenly, I’m flying towards him. I land on my back then scramble onto my hands and knees. I’m at the demon’s mercy now—terrible choice of words, he has no mercy. It’s more like this: I’m at the demon’s disposal now.
He cackles, lifts his fists, then produces flames; my eyes widen and I scramble backwards. He charges towards me. So then I close my eyes (I don’t want to witness my own death).
“Ew! Get away from me!” I cry. I suddenly feel something weird come from the palm of my hand. I open my eyes. The demon’s been blasted backwards. “What was that?!” I ask myself.
No time to answer, of course; the demon’s on his feet again.
Transform, a voice tells me.
Transform into what? How do I even do that?
The same way you produced your magika just now.
“I don’t know how I did that!” I cry out loud. The demon charges towards me. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, I find myself weightless. My feet are no longer touching the ground; I can wiggle my toes around freely. This must be it: heaven. I’m an angel now. I’m beyond flattered. I didn’t think I was a good enough person to have earned an eternity of bliss. Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t do anything evil. Heaven just always felt too good to be true.
And then I open my eyes. I didn’t actually die. I am floating, though. Maybe I turned into an angel on earth? An earth angel? Or maybe I should stop guessing now. I’m already pretty embarrassed I didn’t die. Like my companion said, though: smaller audience, less humiliation.
So I’m floating—no—flying. I can feel my wings now. I’m way above where the demon landed when he tried to tackle me. Okay, if I’m not an angel, I must be a fairy. Fairies have wings. And my outfit looks really pretty in the sunlight.
“I’ll get you!” The demon cries from below me.
Do it again, comes the voice.
Do what again? How?
I don’t feel it as I adjust my posture in mid-air. And it’s definitely some kind of instinct the way my hands come together above the demon’s head. Color seems to pop from my palms, kinda like the way party poppers release confetti. Except slower.
And then that’s it. The demon’s all melty below me.
I somehow bring myself to the ground.
“What the hell did I just do?” I breathe.
Freaking awesome. Then it’s like something turns off in my head. I don’t think I’ll hear from the voice again today.
Really, what the hell did I do?
I don’t dwell on it for long. I run to my companion, lift him up, then try to shake him awake (I’m not sure this is the right move—I’m no medical professional. Not even close).
Lucky for me, my companion’s eyes slowly peel open. There’s dirt and crust in his corneas. Gross.
“What happened?” He groggily asks. He sits up and stares all wide-eyed at my wings. “Holy crap?”
“Isn’t this crazy? I think I’m a fairy,” I grin proudly.
“Definitely not. Fairy wings are transparent and iridescent. Your wings look hairy.”
I’m disappointed. But I’m way too embarrassed to admit it so I shrug it off with, “Oh, yeah, whatever.”
“I’m glad you managed to kill the thing, though. You’ll be quite useful to the Queen once we find her. But,” he lightly taps a tender part of my face, “That scratch might prove to be a problem. You could be infected with demon guck. We gotta get you to a doctor, quick.”
I blink. “Scratch? He didn’t manage to…” I lift my fingers to my cheek. He absolutely did. But I’m more worried about another thing. “What do you mean ‘infected?’ Oh god, am I gonna turn into a demon?!” I cry.
He crosses his arms. “Possibly. If we don’t get that thing healed in time.”
Ah. “Healed,” I smile. “Alright, like this?”
I will it away. And it’s gone.
He’s baffled. “Holy shit, how on Mars did you do that?!”
I’m so proud. “Cartoon law,” I answer.
He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. Or maybe he thinks I’m an idiot. “Cartoon law?” He asks. “What the hell is that?”
“If I want it, I’ll have it. And if I want it gone; then it’s gone.”
He’s baffled. “Incredible,” my companion whispers. “Say, I never got your name. What is it?”
“I’m Mina. You?”
“Good to meet you, Mina. I’m Paco. Wanna help me find the queen now?”
“Let’s go!”