PHOSPHORESCENCE

     ‘ THIS ! ‘ 

                 shuffles through the bag & pulls out a kazoo. 

‘  this cheaply-made musical contraption is surely one of                         my finest Pearl Prizes, if i do say so myself  ! ‘

                            ( & – open. )

     ‘ – WONDEFUL !! that deserve a prize from the Pearl Prize Pouch ! ‘

    Ashley wasn’t proud that the pain got so bad that he     needed treatment – he’s been terribly quiet since the     treatment started. You’d think this good for nothing deal     with the devil would at least provide a body that could handle     three infected bullet wounds to the leg. He needed to keep     suffering – if he just gave in and let himself be helped it was     as bad as saying he has the same worth as everyone else.     He’s a pawn, a tool – nobody repairs pawns when they’re     broken. They toss them away until they end up in some     bargain bin at some shabby thrift store being sold for ten      cents and the cycle starts over again.      He doesn’t want to listen to Marci when she speaks. She’s      too kind, too soft – he envies her. The world has taken so     much from her yet she still finds kindness in her heart. Ashley’s     heart was nothing but a vacant wasteland, like the ruins of a     battlefield hundreds of years after being lost.   “ That’s fine. ”     Pushing her away was too much energy for the time being.     He’d let her fancy this messed up relationship for a bit. She     knew well what kind of man he was – she was doing this on     her own accord.    “ You first. ”

there are things that she was taught to ask by her mother, back before everything went bad, back when marci had a real mother. do you like it when it snows? do you have a favorite book? what do you think about dogs? what are you afraid of? what are you afraid of, her mother used to sing to marci, rocked her back and forth. it’s important, she was told, to be afraid of something, if someone wasn’t afraid of anything they didn’t believe in anything. dark eyes flicker to her lap when he tells her to go first, she shrugs her shoulders.

“-hm.”

a glance out the window, snow piling up against the glass. the way the snow flurries reminds her of home that she is alive, but the world is a violent place, and monsters are always close behind. it’s a cruel and unforgiving world, but she’s not an unforgiving girl.

do you like it when it snows? what do you do? do you read? do you write? what about when it rains? she likes it when it rains, it makes things clearer, like everything will be alr--

“---do you want to play game?”

marci’s getting blood on her sari, on her hands, and it would make her sick, make her stomach curl and twist in terrible ways, but it’s only her hands. they shake, small, barely there; she clenches her fist anyway. a glance up to ashley’s face, brows raised, expression open, warm. you see, the last couple of times marci has talked to ashley, everything has really sounded like an apology. eyes glance back down to her bloodied fingers, shaking hands-- presses them against her dark skirt. 

“uh-- you ask me a question, then i ask you one. and so on, you know.” marci pauses, fingers playing with the roll of bandages in her hands, her knees are starting to ache. she smiles anyway, wide and big. “i will not ask questions you do not like, you do not have answer, yes?”

an adjustment of her weight-- the floor creaks, her knees pop. she waits, glancing back up to him once more.

            “oooooooooooh!” yeah, ziggy never paid much attention to marching band. though. she had a lot of respect for them. especially the drummers since they hauled those things around like giant, pregnant bellies. “wait, you think i’m cool or? am i picking up what your putting down?”

“---mother!!!”

no, don’t worry, that’s an excited call, see! she’s practically running up to ad, gym back swinging back and forth against her hip (yes, it’s wonderful band camp time, welcome to hell!). “i have missed you. hi.”