trains and sewing machines

Eva & Bristol

Once upon a time there was a girl, She dreamt of stars, of happiness, of love. The world was a wonder, a shining light of hope, And she set out to make the world her own. But then the lights faded and the wonder jaded, And the truth of the world forever descended. She felt her heart break from the pain of it all, Over and over, bruised with each blow. The stars abated, her happiness a fable, And love was the mask that kept the farce sated. She put on a smile, broken pieces swept inside, The world was now her stage, her pretense a disguise. Because once upon a time there was a girl, And once upon a time, there were no magic songs.

“They needed something to do with their time. It wasn’t like they had television or phones to entertain themselves back then. How else to explain their changing world than with stories? Now we know that lightning is really a sudden electrostatic discharge during an electrical storm between electrically charged regions of a cloud and another cloud or the ground, but back then it made more sense to them that there was a big man hurling around lightning bolts because he wasn’t being worshiped enough.”

“You’re in the town that only has coffee and mediocre food which should only encourage home cooking, but who has time for that? And the risk of burning the whole house down?” Gemma shook her head at the thought. She knew how to cook, but easily distracted, she could forget about the whole thing. “That’s so generous of you. We can request two people if you want the whole package? But you’re probably right. Once that pizza comes, I’ll probably forget about the person handing me it at all. Food tends to win a woman’s heart after all. I’ll get pineapple and sausage, thank you.” 

“I’ll grant you that Charlie’s is mediocre, especially if you piss off your waitress, but don’t go insulting Devon’s food truck that way.” She shook her head. “That truck has saved my life multiple times, from regular starvation and on nights when I’m too drunk to comprehend what I’m eating. Not to mention that the hangover good is so amazing it’ll blow your mind.” Bristol was shit at cooking, and relied mostly on Devon’s food truck or reheated leftovers from work to survive. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather just stay in my sweats and eat my pizza without worrying about who is going to see me look like this.” She laughed. Speaking into the phone she ordered a large half pineapple and sausage and half pepperoni pizza. 

“That does seem like a fairly effective plan.” she snorted, a grin on her face. “I think the other rules are also don’t say ‘be right back’ or ‘let’s split up’.  If we avoid those, I think we should be good.”

Bristol laughed. “Seems as if we’ve thought of everything, although I’m sure that we’ve forgotten something. You don’t have any small children or any ties to haunted houses in your past, right?”

Bristol wasn’t what you would call athletic. She’d never found the idea of team sports appealing, always at the back of the pack of her high school track team and never really enjoying gym class. Still though, she’d enjoyed running well enough, using it to help with her stress levels throughout college and her master’s degree. With her crammed schedule trying to earn her PhD as well as working two jobs, Bristol hadn’t had much time to run. The few pounds that sat on her previously toned stomach were evidence enough, but this morning she’d decided that a run was in order. She’d woken up early, getting her gear on and hitting the trail nearest her apartment. Still, it had been a bit since her last run and she was certainly feeling it. 

Humming slightly under her breath, Bristol didn’t bother to look up from her rough sketch of the new fuel chamber she was experimenting with. “That would require people to actually believe in magic, or at the very least, for magic to actually exist. Magic is an illusion of tricks, or in the case of the markers, chemistry done right.”

         “—-And…you’re not Indian food?”

Bristol paused, seeming to thinking the concept through. “No, I’m not. Really a tragedy now that I think about it. I could have been some delicious chicken tikka masala or paneer in green chutney sauce, but instead I’m a human being. Although maybe it’s not so tragic after all. I mean, the whole getting eaten bit doesn’t sound appealing. But I suppose we’re veering into Sausage Party territory there.” The blonde was beginning to ramble, getting caught up in the pros and cons of being Indian food that she was beginning to forget why she’d knocked on the man’s door to begin with.

You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress, simultaneously.

“Anyone fancy a drink? Life is getting a lil stressful and I need to take the edge off a bit.”

Bristol shrugged, noticing the fellow blonde who had filled the empty spot next to her at the bar. “Might as well. I’ll get next round, yeah?” She didn’t often visit the local bars, preferring to drink in the privacy of her home, but the day had been rough on her and it didn’t seem like it was going to get much better tonight. The blonde waited for the bartender to move towards them, motioning slightly that they needed to order. “You want to talk about it?”

Natalie had wandered around trying to find the building that matched the address on her phone. When she approached one, she looked over at the appearance. It was small and old-looking and her gut was telling her that this was for sure not the right place. She sighs, adding a groan as well as she mumbled to herself. “Where the hell is this damn market.”

Bristol wasn’t really paying attention to where she was walking, far too involved in the words she was mumbling. “If we calibrate the thrust and the velocity changes,” could be heard falling from the blonde’s mouth as she walked. It was typical of her to get so involved in a problem that she didn’t pay attention to where she was going, even less so to her surroundings, so it was no surprise that she walked into the brunette who was in her path. What was surprising was that Bristol even noticed she’d bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “My bad.”