The End of Mr Rainbow

I don't know if you've ever heard of a children's character called Mr Rainbow. He used to be somewhat popular character on Australian television in the early 80s, but I watched it in the late 90s. The idea is that he was a kind of clown character, since he always wore a multi-coloured, curly clown wig under a bowler hat, and ususally wore puffy, yellow jumpsuit pants held up with red braces over a button-up white shirt, but sometimes the colour of the pants would change, or he'd be wearing a jacket as well, but the iconic look was the yellow pants over the white shirt, and he had a whole bunch of animal friends.
There used to be clips on YouTube, but most of them have been DMCA'd into oblivion by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Which is a shame because they haven't released any of the episodes on DVD or Blu-ray so it's hard to find any footage of it, but it was a pretty good show back in the day. It focused on teaching kids about getting along with each other, and having fun. Each episode would begin with Mr Rainbow talking to the camera - usually from inside his colourful house - about what activities he'd been up to, or he'd talk to some puppeteered animal friends, like Cookie the kookaburra, or Cathy the cat. Then he would go through the magic door to the World of Colour, where he'd talk with the animated characters, or present short animated songs or clips.
I think the idea is that this show was basically a rip-off of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, but instead of puppets in a "neighbourhood of make-believe", Mr Rainbow would appear on top of a hand-drawn or animated backdrop using primitive blue screen technology. It was pretty well done for the time, even though they only did about fifty episodes in total, with four seasons. It's pretty easy to tell which season was which, since the budget seemed to increase for every subsequent series. In the first series, it was just Mr Rainbow in his house, and he would usually do magic tricks to start the show. But, in Season 2, they introduced the puppet characters, and in the next season, he would occasionally have kids on the show, that he would talk to, and play games with. The only difference between the third and fourth season is that at some point, they replaced his iconic, black bowler hat for a green bowler hat with a sunflower in the ribbon. But, since it's so hard to find information about it online, I don't know if the hat was replaced on purpose, or if someone lost it.

Since I was covering horror, nostalgia and nostalgic fear for this blog, I thought I'd look into it a little. Most kids find clowns really creepy, and some of the animations were really cheap, so they looked really disturbing. I remember in particular there was one episode where Mr Rainbow was in the World of Colour talking to a house, which had a face on the side - there were eyes in the windows, a human-shaped nose and the door would open and close to talk, but the teeth were sideways because of the shape of the door, which really confused me as a kid. And, because of the poor animation, it had this blank-faced stare whenever Mr Rainbow spoke to it... I can still picture it now. But, I couldn't find any footage of it online, and it wasn't really scary enough to make my "childhood trauma" list.
But, during my research when I looked up Mr Rainbow online, I discovered something I never thought I'd see. When I looked up "creepy Australian kids shows" online, I found people talking about the show, but it wasn't the house or the clown that disturbed people...

According to the sources I could find online, Harold Sallis (the man who performed the character of Mr Rainbow) had been charged with sexual assault of six underaged children, four boys and two girls. I couldn't find newspaper reports or court records... admittedly besides googling it, I don't know how to look up court records, so if someone else does, please let me know what you find. But, according to the forums, and comment sections for these content aggregator sites, most people say the same thing - that Harold Sallis would lure children to the garage of his Newcastle property by wearing his Mr Rainbow costume, and there he would assault them. Some comments even claimed he was promising to take them to the World of Colour. I don't believe that's ever been proven, since not only was there only two people claiming that (and they may have been the same person on two different sites), but I think they were just embellishing the story to try to scare people. But, I mention it because although there's no proof, it sounds like what basically happened - he would use the costume so people would see him as Mr Rainbow. At this point, I found myself asking the question - if I met Mr Rainbow when I was a kid, would I have followed him?
I don't know if I can answer that question. Of course, I never lived in Newcastle, and I was too young to have been alive for most of this.
From what I could find, the majority of Mr Rainbow was filmed in 1983, and it entered into syndication by the late 1980s, but the court cases were in 1994, over ten years later, and in the weeks after the court case entered the news, Mr Sallis committed suicide. Most people see that as reason to condemn him - obviously, he was just trying to cut his misery short, since he had been caught, goes the logic.
Of course, he was never officially tried, so the possibility of his innocence remains, but I don't really believe that. I wish I could, but it doesn't make sense that he would do that if he was innocent. The pieces just don't fit.

I contacted some of the people, but I haven't gotten any responses - they were old messages, that's to be expected. So, nobody could tell me how exactly he committed suicide. It's never included in the stories people are telling, and maybe it doesn't matter, but I can't help but wonder. Worst of all, I can't find information about when he committed these crimes - or the names of the victims. I mean, I get it - usually, people don't name child victims, because they're too young to be exposed in the media like that, but I wish I could find some more information, to make sense of this whole thing.
But it's just so crazy that they continued airing the show on television, even after his suicide. Maybe it was because he was never officially convicted, but I think it's just because this all happened in 1994. It's hard to imagine what the world was like before the internet, but information moved a lot slower, and so perhaps people didn't really know at the network. Either way, it's destroyed my memories of this show. This show was about friendship and magic and children, it was so innocent when I was a child... but it wasn't, was it?
The whole time I was watching this show, I was watching a child molester, I was watching a man who stalked and assaulted six children - not only that, but a man who did so using the very outfit from the show.

In a sense, I guess you could say that nostalgia is simply naivety. In retrospect, the things we remember enjoying as kids seem so much more fun, and colourful and bright. But, it's because we are young, and we only see what we want to see, or what we're allowed to see. It's not that art was better when we were younger, it's that life seemed better because we were too immature to see it for what it really is. Whilst not every family friendly TV character is a child molester, a surprisingly high number were: Bill Cosby, Gary Glitter, Jimmy Savile, Michael Jackson, Robert Hughes, Rolf Harris... and now, Mr Rainbow as well.
But even the ones that weren't, who's to say they were good people? Why do we show kids such fun and bright images on television when something that clean and wonderful just doesn't exist in the real world?

Maybe it's because we want to hope for a better future, and maybe it's because we want to protect their innocense for a little while. Or maybe, just maybe, it's so as to leave them vulnerable to the Harold Sallises of the world - so they can be Mr Rainbow's next victim. I don't know...
All I know is that I remember watching an Australian kids TV show in the 90s, and now I wish that I could forget.

REAPER - Chapter 3 (of 3)

  Woodlawn Park Cemetery was a well-kept field of graves and grass, wide and flat and green. And although the trees looked as twisted and menacing as trees always do in cemeteries, and the grey iron fence with its square columns and sharply-tipped iron bars seemed to ward off those seeking happiness; Frances watched eagerly as she, Jasper and Rosa walked alongside the park, and saw wandering, pale shapes amongst the gravestones. There looked to be a hundred of these figures, just within view, clustered around different sections of the lawn.
  “Who are they?” asked Frances, staring forlornly through the bars.
  “Just a few wandering spirits,” said Jasper. “Some haunt the place, but most come for the company, since this is a place they can actually call their own.”
  Frances stepped through the bars and began to waft towards the crowds. But suddenly stopped and turned back.
  “Thank you,” she said, and she smiled, for the first time in too long, and then she drifted onwards. Jasper couldn’t help but smile, himself.
  “Another saved soul, eh?” said Rosa.
  “I’m allowed to enjoy the moment,” said Jasper. “It almost makes this curse worth it.”
  “Well, your moment’s up. We need to go back to Casa Boa.”
  “What? I thought you wanted me to stay away from Santero turf.”
  “I do... but now I believe you. They said Sophie bought drugs there, Emily was attacked in that building, and now Frances O.D.’ed after being raped. We need to have a talk to the drug dealer.”
  “What drug dealer?”
  “I found him when I walked through the building, a guy in Apartment 4D with a little cooking operation going on. I think he’s allied with Santero.”
  “And you want me to talk to him, ask if any of his buyers have a history of hurting girls?”
  “Something like that, yeah.”
  “I thought we were just looking for a mugger or something ... drug dealers and rapists in gangland? It’s getting more heavy than I thought it would.”
  “You can take care of yourself, can’t you?” said Rosa.
  “You know I can,” said Jasper, and he took the razor from his back pocket, and as he opened it, the blade seemed to glint with a ghastly light. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

#

  Jasper carefully made his way back to Casa Boa. He took off his hoodie and wrapped it around his waist so he wouldn’t be as recognizable, although he felt much colder in the near-midnight air. He snuck into the alcove of the apartment building’s door, and he found and pressed the buzzer for apartment 4D, the buzzer was a grating electronic rattle, and the occupant answered it quickly.
  “Hey, how’s it?” asked the speaker.
  “I’m looking for a dealer,” Jasper replied.
  “Dealer? I’m not sure what you mean, guy...”
  “His name’s Benicio,” said Rosa. “I read it on his mail.”
  “This is Benicio, right? I’m a friend of Sophie’s,” said Jasper. “She said you were... cool.”
  There was a pause before the speaker crackled as he hung up on the other end. After a tense second, the front door made a loud click as the door unlocked. Jasper ran forward and opened it, heading inside a dim and dusty-smelling lobby.
  “So, we enter the dragon’s den,” said Rosa lyrically, “Never to be seen again.”
  “Don’t be so dramatic, I’m just going to ask some questions,” said Jasper, making his way to the lift and pressing the call button.
  “Last time we went around asking questions, three gangster with weapons threatened you.”
  “Rosa, I love you, but you’re much too cynical,” said Jasper.
  “What can I say? Dying gave me a different outlook on life.”
  The elevator arrived, and they stepped aboard. The trip up to the fourth floor was quick, but the elevator shuddered uncomfortably all the way up, and when the door opened, the floor and the elevator cabin didn’t line up exactly, creating a two-centimetre step. Jasper and Rosa headed down the dingy hall and up to the door of apartment 4D, the lower part of the door was scuffed and dirty, and the keyhole was surrounded by scratches in the metal from missed attempts at unlocking with a key. Jasper knocked, and the door swung open.
  “Come in, man,” said a slightly ragged voice within. Jasper stepped inside and instantly a smell hit his nostrils like melted plastic, it made him cough as he headed further into the apartment. Inside Jasper saw a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a purple jumper with a basketball logo on the front and beige cargo shorts, and he had long, messy hair down to his shoulders. He was organising something on the coffee table next to a couch that looked to have been patched with electrical tape and when he turned around, Jasper saw he had a five-o’clock shadow on his thin face and large, buggy eyes. When he spoke, his voice had the hint of raspiness like a chainsmoker. “So, what do you want?”
  “I’m just asking around. You’re Benicio?”
  “Beni,” he corrected.
  “Do you know who Sophie is?”
  “Uh... no,” he said. “She use?”
  “Yes,” said Jasper. “I think she buys from you. She has pink and black hair.”
  “Ohh yeah, she’s pretty hot,” said Beni with a smirk. “Got that punk thing...”
  “Right. Well, she tried to kill herself, tonight,” said Jasper.
  “Oh,” said Beni, and his smirk dropped. He pursed his lips and shrugged. “That sucks.”
  “Yeah, she came around here tonight. Do you know what happened to her when she was here?”
  “Nah, man. She came her, smoked and took off,” said Beni.
  “Do you know if anyone else was around here? Or if someone attacked her?”
  “I dunno, man,” said Beni, he shrugged and dropped his hands by his side. “There’re some whack’s out there, man. Do some crazy shit. Could be someone from her school or somethin’... oh, I nearly forgot. Did you want to buy somethin’?”
  Jasper didn’t say anything as Beni nervously turned around and opened the box on the coffee table. He took out two small ziplock bags with what looked like clumped rocks of slightly yellowed sugar inside.
  “I don’t think so,” said Jasper.
  “Are you crazy?” said Rosa, snapping around to glare at Jasper. “He’s our only lead! Pretend you’re buying, or he’ll kick you out.”
  “I mean... I’m not sure,” said Jasper. “I’ve never done it before.”
  “Ah, I thought so,” said Beni. He dropped the bags onto the table and took a brown-stained tube out of the box with a bulb on one end; a crackpipe. He walked over to Jasper. “I get a lot of ‘nauts that like to take off in here, do you need a pipe?”
  Beni held the pipe out for Jasper, and as he did a nasty smell invaded his nostrils. It wasn’t as strong as the burning plastic smell, but it was very distinct ... body odour.
  “No...” said Jasper, “No thank you.”
  “Alright,” said Beni. “Well, it’s fifty for a baggie. There’s a few rocks in each. Do you know how to do it?”
  “No, not really,” said Jasper. “Could you show me?”
  “Alright,” said Beni and he walked back to the table, grabbed a bag and sat on the half-collapsed couch. “Don’t go snorting it, since it won’t do as much that way, and needles are gross. You just.”
  Beni reached forward and grabbed a lighter from the box, and opened a bag.
  “Do you know who Frances is?” asked Jasper.
  “No,” said Beni half-mindedly, as he put a rock in the pipe. “Now, what you do is cook it, till it bubbles, and just...” The dealer inhaled the fumes that had developed in the pipe and leant back, closing his eyes before exhaling.
  “Do you want to try?” he asked.
  “I think I get it,” said Jasper, and Beni nodded, using the pipe again. “What about Emily? Do you know who she is? She used to live here,”
  “Emily ... yeah, I knew her,” said Beni, looking even more dazed than usual. “She was real hot, the whole girl-next-door thing.”
  “Do you know what happened to her?” asked Jasper.
  “Moved out,” said Beni. “It’s a shame, she was a good lay...”
  “Lay?”
  “Yeah,” said Beni. “I see a lot of ass... girls want some crack, and sometimes, they can’t pay. If they want to get some crack, they gotta give some crack, y'know?”
He chuckled weakly, peering at Jasper.
  “Like Sophie?”
  “Mmm...” Beni said, nodding. “But sometimes, they just want it. Emily... she just wanted it, if you know what I mean.”
  “No way...” said Rosa, shaking her head. “He doesn’t even care, does he?”
  Jasper started to grind his teeth as what he was hearing started to fall into place in his mind.
  “So, yeah... fifty for a bag,” said Beni, rubbing his eyes and getting up off the couch.
  “Right... Y’know, I don’t think I have...” said Jasper as he took his wallet out of his pocket, and showed nothing but cards and spare coins. “Yeah, I forgot to go to the ATM. Sorry, I better go.”
  “No, wait,” said Beni, picking a little bag off the table. “You said you’ve never had it before, right? Well... have one free.”
  Beni put the smaller bag into Jasper’s hand which was holding his wallet.
  “Thanks...” said Jasper coldly.
  “It’s cool. If you want more, come right back, yeah? But you only get one for free.”
  Jasper turned and left as quickly as he could, closing the door behind him.
  “It’s him, isn’t it?” said Rosa. “He attacked Sophie, and Emily and Frances.”
  “I think so...” said Jasper, marching with purpose to the elevator.
  “What are we going to do?” said Rosa. Jasper closed his eyes, and tried to stop grinding his teeth, but his jaw was still clenched tight as the elevator took them to the bottom floor. Then he opened his eyes and marched outside onto the street.
  “We need to make sure it’s him,” said Jasper. “And if it is...”
  Jasper trailed off as he saw a public trash receptacle along the footpath. He walked over and threw the sealed bag of drugs into it.

#

  Sophie slowly opened her eyes, and felt a dreamy numbness over her body, thanks to the drugs. She saw the tiles, white ceiling above her, and she tried to sit up, but her neck felt weak and there was a dull ache in the back of her head. She laid her head back on the pillow and turned her neck to look around. To her left was a light-green privacy curtain, she looked to her right, and she saw a familiar boy wearing a grey hoodie, sitting in a chair by the bed. Jasper’s eyes were closed, and he looked to be asleep.
  “You?” said Sophie. She couldn’t lift her head, so she turned her head to look at him. “You caught me.”
  Jasper opened his eyes, perked up and smiled when he saw her.
  “You’re awake. That’s good.”
  “My head’s a bit fuzzy...” said Sophie, rubbing her forehead with her hand, then she stopped to look at her hands in front of her face. “How did I get here?”
  “You were brought in an ambulance. You fell off the bridge, do you remember?”
  “Yeah...” said Sophie, sounding a little self-conscious. “What happened to the girl?”
  “Which girl?”
  “She was glowing... she said I shouldn't move,” said Sophie. “I saw her when I died.”
  “Oh... you remember all that, do you?”
  “Of course, it was so strange. What happened?”
  Jasper nodded, then grabbed the chair by the wall, dragged it closer to the bed and sat down.
  “You fell off the bridge, onto the road,” said Jasper. “The force of the landing rattled your head around, and crushed your chest so hard it caused your heart to stop. You were dead for sixty seconds... but I was quick enough that I managed to bring you back before you completely slipped through to the other side.”
  “And what about the girl?”
  “The girl you saw is my girlfriend, Rosa. She’s my ‘partner in crime’ I guess.”
  “She’s a ghost?”
  “Yes. She’s here right now,” said Jasper, gesturing over her. “Standing on the other side of the bed.”
  Sophie turned, but saw nothing.
  “How come I can’t see her?” asked Sophie.
  “She’s invisible. You saw her when you crossed over because you were seeing with a different set of eyes. But now that you’re living and breathing, she’s on the other side of the veil again.”
  “But you can see her?” says Sophie.
  “Yeah... I’m special like that,” said Jasper.
  “And you can do things?” said Sophie. She pressed a hand to her chest. “You pushed me back inside my body... how is that possible? How did you do it?”
  “It’s a little complicated to explain... it’s something I got from my dad.” said Jasper. “Basically, I’m part-death. I can see dead people, I have visions of death, and I can kill people just by touching them...”
  Sophie recoiled at his words.
  “That sounds pretty dangerous.”
  “Don’t worry... as my dad explained it to me, I can only kill by touching people ‘with my skeletal body’. So, you don’t have to worry about me patting you on the back,” said Jasper, holding up his empty hands. “As long as my bones are covered with skin, my touch won’t kill you.”
  “But, everyone’s bones are covered with skin” said Sophie. “So, you’re totally safe unless you... break a bone, or something?”
  “No, not entirely,” said Jasper. “Because of my teeth. They’re a part of your skeleton. So, if I ever bite someone... or kiss someone.” Jasper trailed off as he stared mournfully at the unoccupied space on the other side of the bed.
  “Have you ever used it before?”
  “Only once, and it was an accident,” said Jasper. “That’s kind of why I’m here, though.”
  “What do you mean?” asked Sophie.
  “You’ve been asleep for a few hours, now, Sophie... in that time, I decided to look into what brought you to the bridge.”
  “Okay...” says Sophie, her voice sounded hollow. “What did you find?”
  “Sophie, I know you were attacked. I also know who did it, and I spoke to him... and I don’t think he has any regrets. In fact, I think he’s hurt other girls before, and that he’ll do it again.”
  “Okay,” says Sophie, sounding a little upset, and she sniffed a runny nose as her eyes welled with tears. “Why are you here?”
  “First of all, I need to know that I haven’t made a mistake. You are the only valid witness to your attack, so I need to know, was it the drug dealer, Beni? Was it him that attacked you?”
  “Yes,” said Sophie, her voice cracking into a pitiful whine and tears pouring down her face.
  “I’m sorry,” said Jasper. “I don’t mean to make you live through it again, but there’s something else I need to ask you. Because I have the power to make him go away...”
  Sophie sniffed and wiped her eyes, managing to calm herself down.
  “What do you mean?”
  “You said it yourself, my power is dangerous. I can hurt people without trying, but I made a conscious choice to be a good person, and right now I’m trying to decide the right thing to do. Because I can make it so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else ever again, but I don’t think I should be the one to decide.”
  “So you want me to choose?!” asked Sophie, sounding shocked, and shaking her head as much as she could with a sore head.
  “No, not quite...” said Jasper. “Actually, I’ve already decided what I want to do. I don’t have any doubt in my mind that he deserves it. But, that kind of certainty frightens me... it makes me question whether I’m the right person to make this kind of choice. I asked Rosa, and she said she wasn’t sure. So, we’ve decided to give you the chance to say no.”
  “What do you want me to do?”
  “You don’t have to do anything,” said Jasper. “But, now that I know we’ve got the right man, I’m going to leave here, confront him and make him pay for what he’s done. If you want to stop me, if you would rather go to the police, or whatever... all you have to do is say ‘Stop’, and I will. Do you understand?”
  Sophie cleared her throat and laid back on the pillow. She stared at the ceiling for almost thirty seconds before she spoke.
  “I understand,” she said softly.
  Jasper nodded and slid the chair back with a squeak, to rest it against the wall. He walked to the door, and before passing through it, he stopped and lingered in the doorway for a few seconds. After a moment of silence, he left the room and headed out of the hospital.

#

  It was after midnight when Jasper returned to the Casa Boa Apartments. Nobody saw him slip through the streets, the doors unlocking and opening before him, as his unseen, ghostly companion stepped through and opened them from the other side. He walked up the stairs to the fourth floor, and Rosa opened the door for him, so he could step inside the drug dealer’s home. The room was dark, it still smelled of burnt plastic and chemicals, but the air was cold and black.
  “His bedroom is this way,” said Rosa, and she lead down the dark hallway, with mouldy smelling carpet and dark stains on the walls. She walked through the half-open door to the bedroom, and Jasper pushed it open to see a filthy room with posters stapled to the walls, clothes everywhere, a disgusting smell of body odour, and a mattress in the corner with twisted bedsheets on it and, tangled in the covers, a sleeping Benicio.
  “Are you sure you want to do this?” said Rosa. Jasper ignored her, he took the razor blade from his back pocket and knelt down beside the bed. He opened the razor and held the blade over Beni’s throat.
  “Beni!” Jasper barked. The drug dealer inhaled sharply and flinched, but his eyes were closed and he was too drowsy to do much, Jasper touched the blade to his neck. “Don’t move, I have a razor to your throat.”
  “What the fuck?” grunted Beni. Jasper felt his throat move under the blade as he spoke, the dangerously sharp blade slightly cutting into the surface of his skin. “What is this?”
  “I know what you did to Sophie,” said Jasper. “and Frances and Emily too.”
  “What? No. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Beni, scared. “You got the wrong guy.”
  “It wasn’t a question,” said Jasper. Beni seemed scared, and his eyes started to focus in the dark.
  “What do you want?” he asked. Jasper thought for a moment, but he didn’t know what to say. “Do you want money? Or, drugs? I can get you drugs.”
  “I don’t want drugs!”
  “What do you want from me, man!” said Beni, in a panic.
  “...I want you to stop.”
  “Yeah, sure, whatever you want,” said Beni.
  “No, I need...” thoughts were racing through Jasper’s head. He knew what he had to do, but...
  Suddenly, Beni kicks from under the blanket and it throws Jasper across the room. Jasper hits the wall with a crunch of the plaster that takes most of the force and drops onto stinking clothes.
  “You want to mess with me, motherfucker!” yelled Beni his voice straining with the volume as he stood up, picking up an aluminium baseball bat from behind the mattress. “You mess with Santero, bitch!” He stepped forward to swing the bat down, but Rosa casually grabbed the end of the bat, making the bat stop mid-arch, and Beni grunted with the effort.
  “What the hell?”
  Jasper climbed to his feet, and he grabbed one of Beni’s raised arms, and in one move, lightly bit him on the forearm. Beni’s body instantly collapsed around his spirit, Rosa still held the bat in midair as Beni swung his empty, ghostly hands at Jasper.
  “What in the... woah...” Beni looked at his hands, then down at his body. “Hey, what did you do to me!”
  Beni gave Jasper a shove, which pushed him back, but didn’t hurt him.
  “You won’t hurt anyone else, now,” said Jasper. Beni looked confused, but after a moment, he started to look scared. Before he could speak, Jasper raised his razor blade. “This is for Sophie ...”
  Jasper swung the blade through Beni’s form, and it instantly dissipated, like smoke in the breeze.
  “We’d better go,” said Rosa. “Someone might have heard that. Why did you wake him up?”
  “I wanted to give him a chance...” said Jasper, as he made his way out of the apartment.
  “To do what?” said Rosa.
  “...to stop me from killing him,” said Jasper, as he entered the lit hallway.
  “He could have killed you, though,” said Rosa.
  “No, My Dad wouldn’t let that happen. I guess I just wanted him to give me a reason...”
  “You did the right thing,” said Rosa.
  “I know I did,” said Jasper. “That’s what worries me...”
  He pressed the button for the elevator, the door opened and they both stepped inside.
  “Duel the monster in his hole; you’ll win the fight, but lose your soul...” said Rosa eerily.
  “Don’t be so dramatic,” said Jasper, pressing the elevator panel;
  Rosa just smirked as the doors closed.

REAPER - Chapter 2 (of 3)

  The walk from the bridge to Casa Boa Apartments wasn’t very far, but because he knew he was walking into Santero territory, Jasper felt as though he was being watched, and the thought sent chills up his spine. He flipped his hood over his head and crossed his arms as he walked, Rosa drifting alongside him. They found the apartments on the corner of the block, and Jasper stood there, looking up at it. The building was just a beige cube, squat and dull; in the night’s dark it looked like ghetto mecca, a huge black slab, but the corner streetlight shone on part of the wall, showing exhaust-dust and layers of graffiti and attempts to paint over it in whichever shade of beige paint was the cheapest at the time.
  “Alright, so, what am I looking for?” asked Rosa.
  “Anything suspicious,” said Jasper. “Look for gang activity, guns, drugs... whatever. Especially look for girls around Sophie’s age, get up close, see if they look scared.”
  “Most people look scared around here, Jasper,” said Rosa, walking around to look him in the eye. “You look scared right now. Are you sure you want to do this?”
  “Yeah, just hurry up,” said Jasper.
Rosa nodded, then turned to the building and walked through the wall.
Jasper nodded, then looked around. The street was eerily quiet. In the distance, he could hear barking dogs, and traffic noise. Jasper looked up at the building, trying to see her through the windows. He heard loud house music and the revv of an engine, so he turned to see where it came from, and saw a muscle car turn a corner and start cruising down the block. The way the car seemed to crawl down the curb, windows open and riding low, Jasper assumed it was being driven by some Santero hooligans.
  “Come on, Rose...” Jasper muttered as he looked back at the building. Jasper looked somewhat conspicuous standing outside the apartment, and not wanting to draw the attention of the gangsters, Jasper went around the alley and started walking down the dark space between the buildings. He walked slowly and listened as the car came slowly down the street and past by the entrance to the alley. Jasper counted to five, then stopped and turned back. The car was gone, and it seemed as though it hadn’t seen him. It pulled around the corner and the music disappeared into the night. With a sigh of relief, he looked around the alley. Discarded newspapers and milk crates were shoved into the corners, and there was one huge dumpster by a side door.
It was an entirely uninteresting alley, except he saw something huddled by the dumpster which drew his eye. The unmistakable, softly glowing mist of a wayward spirit. He could only see what looked like a foot, but that ethereal matter was like nothing in nature.
  “Hello?” said Jasper, walking around the dumpster. “What are you doing down here?”
The ghost didn’t answer. As he walked around the dumpster, he saw the pallid form of a schoolgirl, with thin, distressed hair that clung to her form as though it were wet; she had sunken eyes, and a lost, glazed-over look in her eyes. She looked skinny, and wore ripped jeans and a big, puffy jacket.
“Hey, you. Ghost-girl, I’m talking to you. By the dumpster.”
The girl frowned, and it seemed to take her a moment to lift her head and look me in the eye.
  “You...?” she murmured, looking at me, sadly.
  “I’m Jasper. What’s your name?” he asked.
  “You’re not dead,” said the girl.
  “No, I’m not. But, I can see you. Can you tell me your name?”
“Frankie,” said the girl. Her voiced seemed to crack as she spoke. “Why are you talking to me?”
  “Because I want to know more about what’s been happening around here,” said Jasper. “But you look a little lost, we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to. If you need help, I’d like to help you.”
  “You can’t help me...” said Frankie, and she buried her head in her hands, and her voice became wet. “Nobody can help me.”
  “That’s not true,” said Jasper. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll help.”
  “I want to leave!” screamed Frankie. Suddenly she flickered and her form leapt up and slammed into Jasper with inhuman speed. He flew back and slammed into the opposite wall, collapsing onto a stack of boxes. They cushioned his fall slightly, but they were full of glass bottles, which jabbed into his side through the damp cardboard.
“No... I’m sorry. I’m sorry...” Frankie drifted over and reached down to pick him up, but her hands passed through him. “No no nonono...”
Her voice started to get high with frustration, until she was crying and her chant turned into a moaning cry.
  “No, it’s okay,” said Jasper, grunting as he got up. “You’re just a little twitchy. It happens sometimes.”
  “What’s going on?” murmured Frankie as she crouched down, her head in her hands again.
  “You’re a ghost...” said Jasper, dusting himself off, “I guess your death was pretty tragic, it’s why you’re on edge. That kind of emotion gives you power to do things sometimes, but it also makes things a little hard to control.”
  “I’m so sorry,” said Frankie, crouching down.
  “It’s okay,” said Jasper. “I know it’s hard... but, could you tell me how you died? I’d be able to help you more, if I knew what got you here in the first place.”
For a long time, Frankie didn’t answer. She leaned back and drifted back into the space beside the dumpster, and sat there with her legs straight out in front of her.
As she sat there, Jasper heard Rosa call from the end of the alley.
  “Jasp!” she said, “What are you doing?”
  “I found someone,” Jasper called back. As Rosa approached, he turned to Frankie. “Don’t worry, this is Rosa, she’s a friend of mine.”
  “What’s the matter?" said Rosa, when she saw Frankie, sitting dejectedly on the ground.
  “I think we’ve found another victim,” Jasper said quietly. “Don’t worry, Frankie, we’re here to help. Tell us how you died.”
Jasper waited patiently until she finally spoke, and when she did the emotion in her voice was replaced with a world weary monotone.
  “I died right here...” said Frankie, “It’s my fault.”
  “Hey, no, it’s not your fault.” said Jasper.
  “No no...” Frankie shook her head. “It is. I did it on purpose.”
  “Oh...” said Jasper, he cleared his throat and crouched down to look her in the eye. There was another moment of silence before she spoke again.
  “I came here to get high after school. I bought some hard rock, and I smoked it. But, I needed to get home, so I left, but I felt good.”
  “And you came here?” asked Rosa.
  “Yeah, I was on an up, but I saw a car. I thought it was a cop... it probably wasn’t a cop. I hid back here, but someone followed me, and grabbed me. And he undid my belt...”
  “No,” said Rosa.
Frankie’s face fell,
  “He raped me...” she buried her head in her hands again, and began to wail.
  “Hey, it’s okay,” said Rosa. she stepped forward and placed a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. When her ghastly hand touched Frankie, the girl flinched, and there was a sound like a static electric jolt. She looked up and seemed to calm down when she saw Rosa.
  “Thank you,” said Frankie. “He attacked me, I don’t know how long, I couldn’t see, my head was on the floor. I don’t know when he stopped, because I was so high... I was still feeling so good from the drugs, but dirty from what he did. I felt so guilty.”
  “It’s not your fault,” said Rosa. Frankie slowly nodded, but her eyes still looked pained.
  “After he left, I picked myself up, but the drug was wearing off. I didn’t want to fall back down, I didn’t want to feel like that... not ever. I did all of it, I smoked everything left of what I had. I just didn’t want to live like that.”
  “And you overdosed.” said Jasper grimly.
  “It wasn’t quick,” said Frankie sadly, shaking her head and grabbing her neck. “After a while, I felt tired, and limp. I sat down here. I felt tight in my chest, and then I saw a tiger. A white tiger. He stood and stared, like he was stalking me. Snarling and roaring. Then I drifted away...”
  “Where’s your body?” asked Rosa.
  “Garbagemen found me after two days. Called the cops, and they brought in some clean-up guys. None of them saw me, they all just pitied my dead body...”
The sound of the house music from before started to come back, and Jasper glanced up before leaning in closer to Frankie.
  “I’m so sorry,” said Jasper. “I know this is difficult, but do you know who attacked you?”
  “No,” said Frankie. “My face was... down.”
The engine noise grew louder, but then someone cut the engine. Jasper heard a car door open.
  “Do you remember anything?” said Jasper. “Anything at all could help.”
  “He was Spanish, he called me putita. And he smelled bad.”
Jasper heard footsteps near the entrance to the alley.
  “Jasp,” said Rosa in a harsh whisper. “Santeros are here.”
  “What did he smell like?”
  “Just dirty, like he needed to shower.”
  “Hey, boy!” called out one of the hoodlums. “What you doin’, man?”
  “Thank you,” said Jasper standing up. “You’ll be okay...”
Jasper stood and turned to see three boys, in their late teens or early twenties. One kid near the front had a shaved head, and was wearing baggy cargo shorts with a loose-fitting white tank top covered in swear words which were drawn on with a felt-tip pen and a purple kerchief around his neck. The tall kid to his left was dressed similarly, except his shirt was clean and his kerchief was around his arm and he was holding a tire iron surreptitiously by his hip. The other kid wore his purple as a bandanna, and he had several rings on his fingers, which he was flexing.
  “Hey,” said Jasper, walking over to meet the guys, standing openly to show his hands were empty. “Is something the matter, guys?”
  “The matter?” said the bald guy, with a heavy Hispanic accent. “I dunno, homes. You tell me.”
  “I’m not here looking for trouble,” Jasper says.
  “Do you even know where this is?” he asked.
  “I know, Santero turf,” says Jasper.
  “Then why are you here, man?” he said, pointing. “Grey hood, plain jeans... you ain’t got no colors, man. Do you roll?”
  “What? No. I’m not with any gang.”
  “Then why you here? You checkin’ out on our blocks, man?” he said, stepping forward. He placed his hand on his waistband in a way that made it clear that there was a gun concealed within. Instinctively, Jasper reached around to his back pocket, where he kept his father’s straight razor
  “Don’t start anything,” Rosa said quietly into my ear, warningly. “There are Santero boys living here. They’re probably just protecting their turf, they want to scare you off, not hurt you.”
  “A girl tried to kill herself tonight,” said Jasper, taking his hand away from his pocket. “She jumped off the West Flagler bridge and I only just managed to save her and get her to the hospital. She was last seen coming from here, and I want to know what happened.”
  “Some girl... from here?” asked the guy, and he dropped his hand from his waistband.
  “Yeah, her name was Sophie. She was seen around here, looking lost.”
  “I don’t know ‘Sophie’, she a white girl?”
  “Yeah, she had pink and black hair.”
  “Ah, right...” said the guy. “I think I remember seein’ her around. She’s a user.”
  “A what?”
  “Y’know, a doper... a druggie. She buys around here, and probably had a bit too much; thought she could fly,” said the guy with a shrug.
  “I spoke to her before she jumped,” Jasper said. “She wasn’t high, she was scared and alone. I think someone attacked her.”
  “Someone?” said the guy, glancing at his friends, sounding on edge. “Or some gangster?”
  “I don’t know,” said Jasper
  “Damn right you don’t know!” said the guy, advancing on Jasper and jabbing a finger in his chest. “You ain’t accusin’ Santero boys! We beat up cops; we kill punks. We don’t go after schoolgirls or crack whores...”
  “What about Lisa?” said Jasper louder. “There was another girl that lived around here. She left after being attacked by a gang member, in this very block.”
  “We already dealt with that...” said the gangster, darkly.
  “What do you mean?”
  “It was some tocado dog that lived ‘round here. We put him down,” he said. “Like I said, we don’t like people that hurt girls. We ain’t monsters; we are soldiers of Santa Muerte.”
Jasper felt a chill run down his spine at those words.
  “But what about Sophie?” asked Jasper. “This feels like more than a coincidence.”
  “Like I said, she was usin’,” said the gangster with a shrug. “After that high, you can crash real low. I’m sorry she got hurt, but it happens. She shouldn’t use so much at once...”
  “I just want to be sure,” said Jasper.
  “Well, now you’re sure,” said the gangster. “Now, run along...”
Jasper could see he wasn’t going to convince them to let him hang around in their territory, so he waited for them to step aside and let him leave. But after a moment, he realized that they weren’t going to step aside, so he turned around and walked the other way.
  “What’s going on?” said Frankie as he walked past.
  “Come with me,” Jasper said under his breath. He stopped to lean down and reach out a hand.
  “Don’t play around, homes!” called out the gangster. Jasper ignored him and helped her to her feet, then walked with her hand in hand.
  “We’ll take you somewhere safe,” said Jasper, heading around the corner of the alley. “Somewhere you won’t be left so alone...”

REAPER - Chapter 1 (of 3)

  Sophie’s hair was pink and black, blowing unkempt around her face with the cold chill of the evening air as trucks sped past on the road behind her. She wore a very little black dress and leather boots with black and white striped stockings, leaning over the railing, the street below was pretty much empty, just still palm trees lined the quiet road; she leant there with a piece of paper in one hand, and wrote on it with a black pencil in her other. A tear rolled down her cheek and she sniffed, she wiped her nose with her writing hand, and finished the note:

  Mom, its not ur fault. I’m sorry, I know u want me to try again, but I can’t. Every time I go thru hell but, we just end up back here again. I’m making us both miserabel, and you don’t deserve wat I put you thru. This way u can make it on ur own. Maybe I can be with god now? I love u, mom
 

- Sophie

  Sophie folded the note around the pencil, then picked up the pink satchel at her feet. She put the note in it, then looked over the railing. The streetlight beside her wasn’t lit, and the dark street below scared her a little, but she looked left and right, saw no one around, then lifted up her leg and slipped over the railing. she managed to find her footing on the other side, and turned to hold onto the railing, none of the cars on the bridge could see her thanks to the dark streetlight and her black dress. She scrunched her eyes tight and after five seconds, she let go.
  Something grabbed onto her wrist and pulled back. Sophie’s eyes snapped open with shock and one of her feet slipped off the ledge, but her arm was being held tight. She looked at her wrist, it seemed to be stretched out, reaching into the empty air in front of her, and she couldn’t see what was holding onto her. She could smell the acrid stench of accumulated exhaust, could feel the cold and the wind and could hear the rustling palm trees below her and the sound of running shoes pounding pavement, but she couldn’t see what was holding her hand.
  “Wait!” called out a voice, and a teenaged boy wearing a grey hoodie poked his head out over the railing, and held a hand out to reach for her. “Come on, I’ve got you.”
  “What are you doing?” asked Sophie. She looked below her, and felt dizzy as she saw speeding cars. It was then she could feel a warm hand on her wrist.
  “I’m here to help you. Come on, don’t look down, look at me, grab my other hand,” said the boy. Sophie could hear a Spanish lilt to his voice. She shook her head, fresh tears streaming down her face.
  “No, let me go,” she said, her voice breaking with the tears as she spoke.
  “Hey, look at me. Look at my eyes.” said the boy. Sophie did, and she saw stern, brown eyes on a thin face. “Right now, you’re alive, and as long as you are I can help you. I know you think the other side is better than this, but believe me it isn’t. Just give me your hand, come here, and we’ll talk. Okay?”
  Sophie hesitated before reaching out her other arm, and the boy grabbed it as well, then repositioned his other hand around her to steady her.
  “There we go... alright, we just have to get you over the other side, now,” said the boy.
  “I’m sorry,” says the girl, frowning deeply.
  “No, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I understand. Here, just, lift your leg over.”
  “Why did you come and help me?” asks Sophie.
  “Because you looked like you needed help,” said the boy.
  “You don’t even know who I am,” she says. “What I’ve been through... why I want to kill myself.”
  “Alright, then, what’s your name?”
  “Sophie.”
  “Alright, Sophie, good to meet you,” says the boy with a smile. “I’m Jasper. Do you like ice-cream? Chocolate?”
  “Yeah...”
  “There, see, that’s worth living for. And anyone that likes chocolate is worth saving. Come on, I’ll help you get over the railing.”
  Sophie stared at the boy, more confused than anything else.
  “But why are you helping me? Who are you?”
  “I’m Jasper,” he says. “And I know what it’s like to be this close to death, so I want to help. Come over here and I’ll tell you all about it.”
  “Okay...” she says, nodding. Sophie puts both of her hands on the railing and lifts her leg.
  “Do you need a hand?” asks Jasper, grabbing her upper arm, his fingers grasping onto the sleeve of her black dress.
  “I can hop over, just don’t let go,” she says.
  She places her foot on the railing and lifts her other leg, but suddenly tips backwards.
  “Woah, NO!” screams Jasper, he grasps tight, but the lacy sleeve rips straight off the dress. “NO!!”
  Sophie falls and watches the bridge fly away from her as she collides with the road, spine-first.
  The pain lasts for a second, then disappears and she sees blackness. As she lies on the ground, she can still hear the cars above her, now much quieter from this angle, everything was black. She can hear the boy yelling and hears the sound of screeching tires as a car slams on its brakes. She lifts up her head, and the blackness disappears, she sees headlights. The car door opens and a man wearing a tie gets out, he looks horrified. He starts dialling his mobile.
  “I thought this would hurt more,” Sophie mutters to herself.
  “Don’t move,” says a voice. Sophie turns to her left to see a girl, but the girl, seems to be made of softly, glowing smoke. “I’m sorry that we dropped you, I thought we got lucky when I caught you the first time.”
  “Sophie!” a voice calls. Sophie turns to see the boy, Jasper, running down a set of steps from the overpass.
  “What’s going on?” says Sophie, pushing herself up off the ground.
  “I said, don’t move!” says the girl, kneeling down. “If you want to live, you have to stay there. I’ve seen him push it back in, before. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”
  Jasper quickly looks both ways before running into the street.
  “Are you calling an ambulance?” Jasper asks the businessman. The guy nods and Jasper runs to kneel beside Sophie.
  “Is she alright,” Jasper says, looking at the smoke girl.
  “I told her not to move, you have to act quickly.”
  “Okay,” says Jasper, looking down. “Good grief... your body’s in a state, this is going to hurt when you wake up. But...”
  “What’s happening? Who is she?” asks Sophie. But she looks at the see-through girl, sees the man calling the ambulance. And it dawns on her that she stopped breathing forty seconds ago Sophie looks down to see that her torso is ghostly pale; and through it she could see her limp body, but her legs were still solid as her see-through form seemed to mould into the solid one. “Am I dead?”
  “Not if I can help it,” says Jasper. Gritting his teeth and rolling up the sleeve on his right hand, he places a hand on her chest and pushes her back down. As she lies back, she feels a pain in her spine, and her legs and her head. She shrieks and tries to sit up.
  “What are you doing?!”
  “I’m sorry...” says Jasper, “But pain is a good thing, it means you’re alive.”
  Jasper gives her a shove and instantly, the blackness comes back.
  Sophie opens her eyes and gasps for breath. The pain slams into her like a truck. Her spine ached, her feet felt cold like solid ice, but her legs were screaming hot. And she wanted to cry, but she felt dizzy with a throbbing headache like her brain was going to explode. She tried to scream, and barely managed a gargle. Sophie looked around, the ghost girl was gone, she was back. Jasper was still kneeling over her, as she stares up at the night sky, almost mockingly the streetlight on the walkway above becomes illuminated.
  “There we go, relax... just relax,” says Jasper. “The ambulance is coming soon.”
  It was then that Sophie lost consciousness.

#

  The paramedics carefully picked up Sophie from the road and packed her into the ambulance, and sped off for the hospital, lights and sirens blaring. The other witness had already driven off home.
  “That could have gone better, but I think we did good,” said Rosa, her ghostly form passing through a street sign as she moved to stand beside Jasper.
  “She’s alive, but she’ll be in a lot of pain. It looks like she cracked her skull...” said Jasper, watching the ambulance disappear off in the distance.
  “Well, we couldn’t just let her die, could we?”
  “I dunno... I mean, you don’t look miserable. Is it really so bad?”
  “I’m not miserable because I have you,” said Rosa, she grabbed his arm with her hand, closing her eyes and concentrating to make herself tangible. “I’m making the best of a bad situation. If I had the choice, I’d want to be alive again.”
  Jasper nodded and turned back to the stairs leading to the bridge.
  “Well, Sophie makes two now.”
  “Two what?”
  “Victims,” says Jasper. “Surely you remember Lisa, she was attacked around the Casa Boa apartments a week ago, that’s more than just a coincidence.”
  “She was attacked by a gang member, it’s not like the two are connected.”
  “No, I don’t believe that,” said Jasper as he started up the steps. “Lisa lived in Casa Boa, and that’s where I first saw Sophie. There’s something going on in those apartments.”
  “Lisa was attacked because the Santeros hang around there.”
  “No, this is more than gang crime. It’s more insidious than that. Those guys are thugs, but they aren’t known for attacking women, but now there’s two? There’s something more here.”
  “What makes you so sure?” asks Rosa. Jasper stops at the top of the stairs and turns to look into her ethereal eyes.
  “Because that’s what lead us here in the first place. I told you that I had a bad feeling when I saw that girl; it’s because when I saw Sophie, walking down South-West Third, she looked distant and uncomfortable. I didn’t know she was suicidal, but I knew something was up... because she reminded me of Lisa. We got really lucky finding Sophie before she jumped.”
  “So, you want to go snooping around in Santero territory? Based on a hunch?”
  “No, I want to stop innocent girls from getting hurt and killed.”
  “But if you’re right, then to do that we need to head into a gang’s turf.”
  “Yeah... yeah, we will,” said Jasper. “But that’s why it’s a good thing that my girlfriend can walk through walls...”

Mister Midnight

Mister Midnight
Don’t turn off your streetlight
        ‘cause the night can be oh so cruel,
    So have a sleep tight.
    And dare not let the bugs bite;
        As they might, just be after you...

Mister Midnight,
Teeth crooked as a gravesite,
        Like the wolf from the fairytales...
    Up his suit sleeves.
    No aces hidden, never deceives.
        But no fool could mistake those nails...

There’s a creature,
A truly dark, foreboding preacher,
        Of those beasts that avoid the light,
    And he’ll make you,
    Pay attention or they’ll take you,
        And his name... is Mister Midnight.

Is he nasty?
with his claws; and cackle raspy,
        And his eyes, like a dark, grey, rat.
    or is he classy?,
    With pinstripe vest & rings all brassy,
        And his small, blackened trilby hat

At the right time,
As he creeps inside your night mind,
        And he smiles with his grin so kindly,
    And if you catch him,
    You’ll start to wake and he’ll start cacklin’,
        As he says, “You will never find me... ”

Cos he’s a madman,
Doesn’t mean he is a bad man,
        Even though he may try his best
    But he’s trying,
    Through his evil, tricks and lying,
        To be as nice, as a demon gets

But He just might dare,
To creep into your nightmare,
        While you sleep in your bed so tight,
    And we fear it,
    Most people shiver when they hear it,
        “My name... is Mister... Midnight.”

Bag of Tricks

Darren Reynolds. I can say it over in my mind as many times as I like, but it still doesn’t sound right. It is my name, but it just doesn’t feel like me. After all, everyone calls me Sticky.
Yeah, Sticky, because my hands are so sticky. No, I don’t mean they are like tree branches or covered in glue. It’s just . . . when I see something that I really want, I can’t help it, I have to take it, things are always getting picked up with my sticky hands. Now, yeah, I know stealing is wrong. Mum, Dad and teachers have lectured to me about it for hours, but, hey, if people didn’t want stuff stolen, they would take better care of it. I look at the guy beside me.
Yeah, perfect example, I can see the wallet in his pocket, it’s sticking out so far, it’s pretty much going to fall out on its own. I easily, but carefully, slip my hand over and slide the wallet out.
See? He just wasn’t paying attention. I open the wallet and search around. That $50 note looks alright. I slip it into my own pocket and then put the guy’s wallet on the floor.
And here’s the most fun part. I tap him on the shoulder “Hey, man, you’ve dropped your wallet.”
The guy looks surprised and picks his wallet up off the floor,
  “Oh, thanks,” he says.
  “No worries.”
As he turns around, I can’t hide the smile on my face. Not only does he not know, but now I’m the nice, young fellow who found his wallet for him, he never suspected a thing. Fantastic. The bus stops and I look out to see the tall buildings of the City. Yep, my stop, I wonder where the guys are?
I stand up and follow the shuffling crowd off the bus. As people start spreading out to head off, I spot Charlie through the crowd.
  “Hey! What’r’ya doin’?” I call over.
  “Waitin’ for you, come on.” He says, obviously not wanting to waste any time. He almost drags me through the people to the centre of the Mall. “Phil said he’d be here.” He murmurs, looking over the crowds, “Why does EVERYONE have to meet at Hungry Jacks?”
  “Hey! You lot!” Phil suddenly calls over, from down the street, “You gotta check this out!”
When he gets close Charlie moves behind Phil and slaps him in the back of the head “Hey! Wha’s that for?” Phil grumbles. As Phil groans in pain, I can’t help but laugh, he got hit right in the back of the head.
  “We’re s’pose to be meeting here dingus, if you’d not come runnin’ up, we’d’ve been waiting here for hours.” Okay, even I know that’s a stupid reason, but what can I say? Charlie likes to hit people.
  “Whatever, I was just sayin’ that you should come check this guy out down here.” Before we learn anymore, Phil turns around and starts going back down the street.
  “Come on Sticky, either we follow him or we’ll lose him forever. We never can settle Phil down.”
I start jogging after Charlie down the street and soon enough I see a large crowd of people standing on the side of the street. Phil’s waiting just beside it.
  “Guys, look, it’s a magician!” Phil leads us around to the side of the crowd and we can just see through the people. The magician is around his forties, and he is wearing dark black pants, held up with red braces over a chequered shirt, and he has a black, short-brimmed hat on his head, and he’s standing on top of an upturned milk-crate so that all the people around him can see him. The magician reaches down into a large, brown leather bag by the foot of the milk-crate and pulls out a pack of cards.
  “Pick a card, any card.” He says, fanning out the deck toward the volunteer in front of him.
  “I think I know how to do that trick,” Charlie says behind me, suddenly chuckling.
  “This old coot has just bought a magic book, and now he’s trying to get money from it. It’s ridiculous.”
I had thought the magician was pretty cool, but now that he mentions it, these tricks are pretty ordinary, Charlie’s right.
  “Yeah,” I pipe up “I think I could do some better tricks than that.” I say
I turn back to Charlie to see him smiling,
  “Hey, that’s a good idea. Sticky, you’re pretty good at making things disappear, why don’t you show him how to really do magic.” The idea sounds pretty good to me, performing to such a big crowd.
  “Alright then, I will.” I turn back to the magician just as the crowd is applauding. Before he can start his next trick, I push through the crowd to where the magician is and stand right next to him. I notice some disapproving looks from the crowd, and the magician even looks down at me from on top of his crate.
  “Excuse me, do you wish to volunteer?” he asks
  “No,” I say, suddenly noticing the edge of a bright, yellow scarf sticking out from his pocket, “I’m here to do magic!” I waggle my empty fingers to the silent, stone-faced crowd and then walk behind the magician. As I pass, I easily slip the scarf from his pocket and scrunch it up into my fist.
  “Ta da!” I call as I throw the scarf up into the air with flourish and catch it as it floats back down.
Some of the people clap, but most keep staring coldly, I think I hear one person murmuring loudly ‘Attention-seeking fool . . .’. The magician clears his throat
  “Isn’t that my scarf?” he says , stepping off of the crate, looking slightly cranky. I hold it out for him to take back.
  “I guess so,” I say as he snatches it back and puts it into his pocket.
  “Then, you are merely a thief?!” he cries out. I can barely keep a straight face as he gets more mad.
But, suddenly, his face turns friendly and smiley again as he turns back to the audience.
  “You are a thief, but I am a better one!”
I stare at him, confused. Did I just become part of his act?
He turns me to face the crowd
  “Ready yourself,” he says. Then, as I am facing forward, he walks behind me. I don’t feel a thing, I know he hasn’t stolen anything. I turn to my other side to see him announce to the crowd
  “Okay, I have now stolen something from you!”
I really don’t get it, I know he hasn’t stolen anything.
  “What? Don’t think I’ve taken anything? Are you sure?”
I start to check my pockets, just in case, my wallet, the $50 note, my detention slip . . .
Suddenly, I hear the crowd burst out in laughter and I look up to the magician. He’s holding up a pair of underwear.
No . . . he couldn’t have . . .
I put my hand down and check, just to be sure. Yeah, they’re there, but . . .
The crowd is laughing, Charlie and Phil are laughing, even the magician is chuckling to himself. It was all just a trick, but these people would never believe me. I’ve been made a fool of.
I turn to walk away, but the magician stops me.
  “Oh, don’t forget to take these.” He says, stuffing the underwear in my hand. I just take them and saunter through the crowd. I step up to the laughing Charlie and Phil,
  “Now THAT’S a magic trick!” Phil screams, and it sends the two almost rolling on the floor in laughter.
  “I’m going home.” I say, turning away from Charlie and Phil,
  “Oh, come on! Just ‘cause you got outdone by a 50-year-old? Come on Phil, let’s leave him to sook.”
They wander off, still laughing to themselves as they go. I continue on down the street, headed for the train station.
Damn it! All those people laughing at me, it’s all that Magician’s fault, how dare he laugh at me.
I look down at the pair of knickers in my hand.
  “What kind of sick paedophile carries around a pair of undies anyway?” I say, throwing the underwear into a nearby bin. That sick, old man, I should get him back. He should still be performing, I could just . . .
I turn back to look up the street, but I see the crowd has spread out, the act is over. Just my luck. I continue back down the Mall, cross the street to the train station, and start making my way to the platforms. How am I gonna get him back? Maybe tomorrow I’ll show up and ruin all his tricks, tell everyone how they’re done . . . No, I’ll just seem like a crazy heckler . . .
Maybe I could start my own magic act and . . . No, that’s just stupid.
I pass through the station and see my train’s on the platform. People are already on the train, I’m gonna miss it if I’m not fast. I jump down the tiled steps and leap through the doors onto the train. Phew!
The doors slam shut behind me and the train begins to crawl it’s way along, slowly speeding up.
Damn, I lost my train of thought. Where was I? Damn it! I dunno how to get him back. Suddenly, my eye catches something just in front of me. A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. Just my luck . . .
It’s the Magician. The Magician is on my train. How did he get here before me? Oh, who cares, this is just too perfect. My mind is racing a mile a minute, the old man can’t even see me, because he’s facing towards the other side of the passenger car. This is the perfect chance, I can’t think of anything, there’s so much I could do, but what can I get away with?
I suddenly notice a bag at his feet. It’s large, bulky and made of weathered, brown leather. It’s his bag, the bag full of his magic tricks. I can’t help but smile. This guy does magic tricks for a living, he couldn’t do that very well if he didn’t have his magic trick bag, could he?
I look around. Nobody’s looking, it’s now or never. As naturally as possible, I lean over, hook my hand through the handle and stand back up straight. I nearly fall over from the weight of the bag, but nobody seems to notice me. No reaction from the Magician, this is the easiest steal of my life. Now to slowly walk away . . .
I slowly turn and start walking to the back door, tilting slightly from the weight of the bag. I check behind me, but the Magician doesn’t even notice, the deaf, old fool. I pass through to another carriage and shut the door behind me. I try not to smile too much, but I can’t help it. I can just imagine the look on the old guy’s face when he sees his bag is gone, possibly forever. The weight of the bag is nearly dislocating my arm, so I slowly place it on the floor. Damn, what’s in this thing? Bricks? I lean against the wall to stay standing as the train begins slowing down.
Oh, damn! This is my stop. I really should pay more attention when it comes to public transport.
I lean down and grab the bag again. Wow! It feels heavier than before, I nearly rip my arms off as I try to pick the bag up, how does that old guy do it? I walk quickly off the train, not so much so that I can be home quicker but rather so that my arms don’t fall off before I get there.
As I’m, quickly making my way home, I get a thought in my head. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see some of the tricks in here? I mean, that crowd in the City was pretty big, just imagine if I could get attention like that, it’d be awesome. I drop the bag by the front door as I grab my keys from my front pocket. I’m suddenly really anxious to see what’s in the bag. It’s so heavy, it probably holds hundreds of tricks. I throw the door open and drag the bag through to the living room.
Mum shouldn’t be home yet, I should have heaps of time to check this thing out. The living room is pretty much two sofas, a coffee table and a TV. I grunt with effort as I drop the bag onto the coffee table, I can swear I hear it almost crack from the weight. Wow, I slowly lean forward and look at the bag, I wonder what’s inside. I take the two handles and slowly start prying them apart . . .
BANG! I quickly spin around. It was just the front door closing. I almost chuckle at my foolishness. The door, what am I so afraid of? It’s just a bag right?
I turn back to the bag and continue prying it open. Inside, the first thing that catches my eye is a large book, it’s decorated with red and gold colouring. It must have all his magic tricks in it. I pick it out and read the cover:
Les Livre de Magique
& pour le Magicien entraîné ou le expérimenté prestidigitateur
I stare open-mouthed at the cover of the book,
  “French?!” I throw the heavy book onto the coffee table with a bang. “How the hell am I supposed to read a French Magic Book?!” I think for a moment. Perhaps it’s just a ruse, to stop people reading it. I flip through a few pages
disparaître sort . . . Sort de mille oiseau . . .
  “Damn it! Just my luck he’s an immigrant . . . French . . .” I slide the book from the table onto the floor in anger. But then a thought occurs “I don’t need a magic trick book to tell me how to work magic props, I’ll work it out myself . . .”
I look into the bag again. There’s a small, wooden rack full of glass jars, a few bundled up silk bags, all sorts of strange things all around it. I reach in and start to move stuff around, and I see an old-fashioned top-hat. It’s interesting because it isn’t crumpled even from being carried around in the bag, it must be a trick hat. I take it out and inspect it.
It weighs the same as an ordinary top-hat, at least I guess so because I’ve never seen one before.
I look at it all over, but I can’t see any secret compartments or hidden sleeves. It seems normal, but why isn’t it crumpled up? What’s it made of?
I hold it by the brim and tap it on the table. It knocks on the wood the same as a rock would.
  “What’s so good about a rock-hard top-hat?” Suddenly something white jumps out of the hat into my face. I jump back and start swiping at it with the hat.
  “HEY! Get off!” It flutters around the room madly then comes to a rest on the table, cooing softly. The perfectly white dove starts pecking at the coffee table.
  “Whoa, a dove out of a hat.” I look at the hat again. “Where the hell did it come out of?” no secret compartments, it’s too thin for a dove to have hidden inside of, and how did it come out anyway.
Cautiously, I lean over again and tap the table again with the hat, then point the opening away from me. Another dove flies out and circles the room before coming to rest beside the other dove.
  “Wow, now that’s magic.” As soon as I say it, I realise it sounds stupid, but it’s the only explanation.
  “Damn! That Magician is cheating! He’s using real magic.”
I drop the hat on the table and start searching through the bag again.
  “What else could be in here?”
My fingers grasp around something metal, like a wire-mesh. I pull it out and hold up a small, metal cage, which is just a bit bigger than a tissue box. It’s like what people use to hold guinea pigs or small pets in, but why does this guy have one?
I start fiddling with the cage. It’s pretty normal, the only thing that moves is the little hatch which opens so you can put the animal inside, I also see a little sign on the side of the cage which says:
Nibbles
  “I don’t get it.” I move to put the cage down on the table, but just before I put it down, suddenly it feels like it’s being pulled out of my hands.
It hits the table with a clang and starts . . .squealing?
I look down at the cage again, there’s a small, brown rabbit inside, and it seems a little upset about being dropped. “How the hell did you get in there?” I lean down and look at the rabbit. It’s definitely real. I look into its black, beady eyes. Suddenly there is a faint pop!
The cage is empty. I stand back up and look at the empty cage
  “Oh my god, a disappearing bunny.” With another pop! Nibbles the Bunny reappears in the cage.
  “For the Rabbit in the Hat trick, I get it.” I pick the cage up, I can now feel the weight of the rabbit in the cage. “This is too cool, what else is there?”
I move to put the rabbit back on the table, but realise that there isn’t any room. The table is covered with a dozen cooing doves.
  “What in the world?” I see a thirteenth dove suddenly jump out of the hat and join the rest.
  “Hey, Get off!” I shoo them off and send the doves flying all around the room, spreading feathers and such. I put the now empty cage back on the table, then grab the hat and flip it over so that the opening is face down. “There, that should do it.” I turn back to the bag. I reach in and grab one of the little, silk bags.
  “What’s in these?” I undo the little draw-string and reach into the bag. Inside are just three rubber balls. “These must just be ordinary props.” I pack the bag back up, put it back and grab another bag. It has a pack of cards, another holds a small coil of rope.
  “Boring.” I move to get more stuff but I’m distracted by a shrill squealing from the small rabbit cage.
Nibbles is fidgeting back and forth in the small cage. “How could that cruel old coot keep you locked up in a cage so small?” I say, surprised myself how caring I sound for a freak-of-nature vanishing bunny. I open the cage and take the little bunny out, holding it carefully in my hands, it feels so soft.
Suddenly, it disappears with a pop!
Hmmm, that’s a weird feeling. I decide to let Nibbles roam free, and so I turn back to the bag.
Stuff the props, where’s another magic spell. I move the stuff around, looking for another good trick. Then I see it. A small, black stick hidden within the little bags. Along the stick in small silver letters it says:
Léviterbaton
  “What the hell does that mean? Is this a magic wand?” I take out the stick and try waving it around.
Nothing seems to happen.
I try to bend the stick, but it seems to be just as strong as the hat.
Then I think . . . that hat worked when I tapped it on the table . . .
I lower the stick and give it a sharp tap! on the table.
I stand up straight and wait to see what happens. The table seems to be moving, I lean closer. It seems to move more . . .
Suddenly the bag starts to slide off the table. I jump forward to catch it, but as I grab it, birds start flying in all directions from the table. I stand perfectly still and wait for the birds to settle down. What startled them?
Then I see the table, it’s standing on two legs, now with the top-hat and Nibble’s cage on the floor. What the heck? What did that wand do. I put the bag back on the ground and bring the wand up to my face.
CRASH! the table flies up and slams into the ceiling, cracking the plaster and smashing the light.
  “ . . .Whoa . . .” I look at the wand again. I moved the wand up, and the table went up . . .
  “The wand moves stuff! Cool!” I slowly lower the wand and make the table float back to the ground, to reveal the large crack in the ceiling and the broken light.
  “Damn! I’ll have to deal with that later . . .” I jiggle the wand and watch the table shiver.
  “Really cool . . .” But how do I stop it? I point the wand down and walk closer. As I get close enough, I let the wand go. The wand drops on the table, it seems to have stopped.
  “What else is in there?”
I turn to move back to the bag, only to realise my path is blocked by a flock of cooing doves.
I wave my arms to move them out of my way and slowly make my way back to the bag.
As I finally get to the bag and start to move things around, Nibbles appears inside the bag with a pop!
  “Come here you,” I say picking it up “You stay out of there, maybe I should put you back in your cage?” at that, Nibbles wiggles his nose and disappears, pop!
Then I start thinking again, I don’t usually think so much in the afternoons.
  “This is full of magic tricks . . . so that French Magic Book . . .”
The book is sitting on the floor besides the now slightly cracked coffee table, that could be filled with some crazy cool magic tricks, maybe even something that can fix the roof and the coffee table.
I shuffle through the doves toward the book and pick it up.
  “I can only hope I can understand some of this French . . .”
I start flipping through the book, all the pages are slightly crinkled around the edges, but all the words are there, all the freakishly twisted French words. I look at one page that catches my eye because it is so short and I understand most of the words:

Sort du Vivre

Appliquer Transition Potion sur la animal apprivoisé. Ensuite agiter Léviterbaton au-dessus de désir objet (par exemple – table) à l’époque réciter:

Unir le vie tu le n’est pas vie

“Okay ‘Transition Potion’; ‘Animal’; ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Recite’. That sounds simple enough, I just got so see if he’s got this ‘Transition Potion’ and we’re in business.”

I close the book as I turn around, wander through the thickening flock of doves and look in the bag again. The small wooden rack catches my eye, and so I grab it and pull it out. It’s like a wooden toolbox, but it seems to be full of small, glass jars and bottles. On the side it reads:
Magique Potion Étagère: N’est pas pour public utilisation
  “Magic Potion ‘Etager’, this sounds like what I need.” I say, opening it up.
Each little bottle is about as tall as my thumb, with many variations on shape and width
& . . . séparer breuvage . . . Vingt-Minute Poison . . .
  “Ah, here it is, ‘Transition Potion’” the bottle is like a tiny, little wine bottle, it’s even got green-tinted glass like they have, except it has a small bottle cap instead of a cork. I close up the case, put it back in the bag and close it tight, just to be safe. Then I open the book and look at it again
  “ ‘Appliquer’? I guess that means apply . . . to an animal, what animal? Where’s that rabbit?”
I start to look around, but think to ignore it, because there is a flock of doves at my feet, and it would be too hard to catch Nibbles, he moves too fast.
  “Well, I hope this gets one of you . . .” I say, flicking the bottle around. The small amount of bright, green liquid spills out over the doves, and when it hits them, the birds start fluttering around again, flying in all directions, spreading out.
“Whoa, that definitely got some . . .” I say, turning back to the book “ ‘Leviter baton’ . . . where’d I leave it?” I slowly push my way through the birds, it’s now getting harder to move through the flock without stepping on them, I have to be careful. Eventually I get to the coffee table with the ‘Leviter baton’ and pick it up.
  “ ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Reciter’ . . . Okay, I’ll just.”
I start waving the wand over the table, making it shiver slightly, and start reading out the words in the book as best as I can
  “ You-near, lee vie too lay nest pass vie!” I say. Suddenly, there is a loud BANG! like a balloon popping, and the room starts raining white feathers. “Oh no! I think I killed all the birds!” I drop the magic book on the floor and start making my way through the feathers, which are slowly settling onto the ground. I can’t find the birds, it just seems to be their feathers . . .
Suddenly, all the feathers settle like a blanket over the living room “I made all the birds disappear . . . huh?”
I walk through the carpet of feathers, when I hear something like shuffling behind me. I quickly turn around . . . Nothing there but the couch. Was it always that close to the coffee table?
Then I hear shuffling from the front of the room.
I turn just as the noise stops to see the television . . . did it just move?
I move slowly closer to it to touch it . . .
I lightly place my hand on the television . . .
Suddenly, the television runs sideways out of my grasp and around the room to group up with the couch, which starts shuffling along to make room for it.
  “Holy mother of . . . the furniture is alive.” The coffee table starts edging its way towards the bag and magic book, which are now in the centre of the room.
  “Hey NO!” I shout running forward.
As I approach, the table recoils to group up with the TV and the two couches.
  “Now Stay Back!” They seem harmless so far, but I’m guessing that being run down by a couch is equivalent to being run down by a small rhinoceros.
I lean over to the bag, when I hear a faint pop! and look up in time to see Nibbles the Bunny appear on top of the table.
The coffee table starts shivering in fear . . .
  “Oh No!” I scream, grabbing the bag, just as the table runs straight at the wall, in effort to get the bunny off. Nibbles safely disappears in time to avoid the collision . . . BANG!
The loud noise sets all the furniture off in blind panic, and they start running around the room.
I run as fast as I can out of there, in time to hear the sudden cacophony of collisions
BANG! CRASH! BOOM!
I turn around and look at the living room, the furniture is destroying itself and its shredding up the walls by ramming them in the manic furniture stampede.
  “They’re going to take the house down if I’m not careful . . . How do I stop it?” I start to recall.
When I did that spell, the doves disappeared, then the furniture started moving . . . the doves must have somehow become part of the furniture . . . I’ve got to separate the furniture from the doves . . . yeah, separate . . . didn’t I see something like that?
I drop the bag, rip it open and take the potions ‘etager’ back out. I open it up and start scanning the little shelves
& . . . arc-en-ciel peau lotion . . . changer le face . . . séparer breuvage.
  “AH! Here it is! ‘Seperar Brewvidge’ sounds like ‘separating potion’ to me.”
The thin, vial-like bottle seemed to be filled with bright-red paint, and was corked with a little, rubber stopper.
  “I’ll just put this stuff on the furniture, and the birds should come out . . . I hope.”
I try to take the little stopper off . . . but it’s hard to get a grip on the little bottle.
I hold it tight in one hand . . . crunch!
The red liquid squirts out as the vial crushes in my hand and squirts out over me, even some of the glass cuts into my palm
  “AH! Damn, that hurts, and this stuff tastes like turpentine . . .”
I rush into the kitchen and put my hand into the sink and start the water running. The stuff seems to wash off easily, taking the glass shards with it into the sink. As the water’s running, I look over at the living room door, which leads from the kitchen into the side of the living room. I can see some of the feathers fluttering out through the door, obviously stirred up by the furniture running around.
Suddenly, something cold, wet and metallic slaps into the back of my hand. I look down at my hand to see what it is . . and I nearly scream
  “Oh my god! Where’s my hand!” at the end of my wrist, where my hand usually is, there is slightly rounded stump. I look into the sink, and see my hand is lying under the running water at the bottom of the sink.
  “Oh No!” I try wiggling my fingers, and the hand in the sink obeys. “Oh, gross!” I grab my hand out of the sink. It’s so strange, I feel like I’m holding my hands together, but it’s not connected.
  “Damn, it’s the separating potion!” I quickly wipe my hand off with a towel, which is hard without two hands, and start searching through the kitchen drawers for something to keep it together.
I find some masking tape and put it on the kitchen bench.
  “PERFECT!” I say, as I pick it up, suddenly the world start to topple over . . . oh no!
I grab tight on both sides of my head with my hand and my . . . stump.
  “Not my head! No!”
I hold my head straight with my handless arm and start wrapping the masking tape around my head.
I go around about five times and let my head go.
It feels a little crooked . . . oh god!
I take the tape and start taping my hand back on, when I feel something cold and hard slap against my thigh, and I lose my balance. I fall onto my backside and see my right leg, from the knee down has disconnected and is sitting on its side.
  “I’m falling apart faster than I can fix myself!”&  I scream, scrambling over to my leg and setting it back in place with the sticky tape. I wrap it around and around, when my left arm, at the elbow, hits the floor right on my funny bone.
  “AAGH! This is hell!” I scream. I try to peel the tape off one handed by using my teeth, but that nearly dislocates my head again, so I try using my fingers to slowly pry it out. I finally re-attach my arm when my left foot falls off and slaps into the tiles.
I try to get more tape, but the roll is empty.
  “No, no no no no no . . .” I grab my foot in one hand and start walking, with one leg shorter than the other, and the other held straight by masking tape, hobbling back to the front entry for the magic bag. I lie down next to the potion rack thing and start scanning through it.
  “Come on, there has to be a fixing potion!” I look through the rack and quickly pick up a little, white bottle which looks like a small jar which says: Solution Potion
I quickly pop the cap and swallow it. It tastes like olive oil. I swallow it, but it feels really strange, and seems to get stuck in my throat.
I try to swallow, but it feels like it’s choking me. I lean forward and cough it up, spilling it onto the tiles. No! It won’t work! My head isn’t connected to my body! I can’t swallow it!
Suddenly, behind me, I see the coffee table charging into the hallway.
  “No!” I scream.
If that thing runs into me, It’ll snap the masking tape apart and I’ll never fix myself!
I can’t try running around the house, I’ve got to get out of here!
I quickly jump up (as best as I can at the moment) and quickly hop out the front door and slam it shut behind me in time to hear something CRASH! into it.
I look down the driveway, and see something I wasn’t expecting.
A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. The Magician.
  “Hey! It’s YOU!” I shout, I try to point, but the masking tape is too loose, and my hand dangles lamely toward the ground.
The Magician chuckles to himself.
  “I see you’ve found my magic bag.” He says, smiling “You’re really quite amusing, I especially enjoyed the part when you tried to read French, very amusing.”.
  “You!” I scream “You have to fix this!”
  “Have to fix this? You made this mess all on your own, why should I fix this?” I know he’s right, but I don’t dare say that.
  “Please then, you can’t leave me like this!” I says, my head becoming more crooked by the second, and I even feel my right shoulder starting to loosen.
  “Alright then, I guess I’ll fix it . . .” The Magician claps his hands together, and there’s a blinding white light. I hear a loud scraping like a million chairs being scraped across the floor as the house rearranges itself and banging and clanging as the walls fix themselves. Suddenly, I feel my whole body tingle and start to straighten out. My bones start cracking as they connect back together. And finally, I’m whole again. The light dissipates and I look over at the magician.
  “There, both you and your house are fixed again. However, you stole my magic bag.” He says, suddenly frowning, “I’m afraid that’s very bad.”
I feel my whole stomach start to turn, this must be that ‘guilt’ thing
  “Uh . . . I’m really sorry Mr . . . Magician, I won’t do it again.”
The Magician waves his hand, and the front door opens and the magic trick bag starts floating out
  “Oh, I know you won’t. See, you stole my magic bag, you know my secret . . . and I can’t have that, if people knew that I was a real magician, things would get very . . . difficult.” He takes hold of the bag, and with a faint pop! Nibbles the Bunny appears on his shoulder, twitching his nose.
  “I said I was sorry.” I say, trying to sound as apologetic as possible
  “Sorry isn’t good enough my boy.” He says, walking up to me so that he is just a metre away.
  “You’ve been stealing for quite a long time, but today, you stole from the wrong person. I’m afraid that, now that you know my secret, I can’t let you stay. You’re going to have to disappear.”
Oh no, by his face I can tell he is serious
  “But, I’m sorry.” I mumble weakly
  “No, dear boy. I’m sorry.” The magician raises his hand, and clicks his fingers. And with that, in that second, in that very instant, the boy known as Darren Reynolds . . . disappeared.
The Magician sighs deeply “Oh, Nibbles, children these days, how will they ever learn . . .” He turns down the driveway and begins walking toward the road, as he walks, he begins to fade into nothingness, until finally, the Magician, Nibbles and the Bag of Tricks . . . were gone.

THE END

So Very Close

Paige’s suitcase was packed and sitting beside the balcony door. Her passport sat on top, with her cell phone. She was sitting beside her computer, plugged into her virtual console. The printer on the other side of the room started blinking, then began filling the output tray. A printed ticket with travel time, destination and cost; On top of that slid a printed map & on top of that, a typed out note. It read:

Dear Mom & Dad,
Stay calm, I’m okay, I haven’t run away. I’ve
gone to see Mohamed. He’s in the hospital
because he was shot. I need to go see him.
Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I’m taking the drone
with me Please whatever you do, don’t panic.
From Paige

Disconnecting herself from the interface, Paige ran over and grabbed the pages, then the bag and everything atop it. She extended the handle, then wheeled the bag behind her as she headed to the kitchen. Finding a stray magnet, she posted the note on the front of the fridge.
Stuffing the other pages in her jeans pockets, she headed over to the white, squat quadrocopter; a flattened cube with lots of slots and components, and round, shiny, metal edges sitting on the end of the bench on its charger.
  “Hoverfly, wake up,” she said. Two little blue eyes on the front of the Rusties™ Hoverfly switched on and glanced around. The propellers started up, whirring softly, and the drone lifted off its charging station and hovered in place.
  “Hoverfly, I need you to chaperone me,” said Paige. The drone tilted forward, as though nodding, a little green light beeped and the drone flew up and hovered a few feet behind her shoulder. Ever since the legalization for automated drones, they had become very popular since they were relatively cheap, especially within the film industry and delivery services; but for families with latchkey kids, it brought a whole new meaning to the term ‘helicopter parent’. Paige headed for the door, with the drone following behind keeping her in its sights. Paige grabbed her vest from the coatrack by the door and headed outside.

From her apartment, she went downstairs, across the street and started heading towards the Long Beach seaport. It wasn’t too far, but it felt like miles as thoughts kept spilling through her head. What if he’s seriously hurt? Will this be the first and last time I see him? Or, what if he’s fine? I’ll get in so much trouble spending my savings if I’m just worrying over nothing. I hope Mom and Dad don’t freak out when they see I’m missing. They can track me on the Hoverfly, so they’ll see I’m okay . . . I am going to be in so much trouble. It’s weird though, I don’t care. I usually care, but it’s not like I have a choice. Moh needs me, and I can’t leave him alone at a time like this.
Paige headed for the seaport and saw several excited people with cameras and bags clustered on the concrete docks around cafes, spilling orange light through the blue dawn, or taking photos of the set of aqualiners that lined the shore; each one looked like a mix between a jet ski and Concorde. Made by Rolls Royce®, the latest update in seaborne travelling was the speed-cruise ship, a jet-boat the size of a cruise liner which was fast enough to hydroplane. It still isn’t as fast as a Boeing 747, but what it lacked in speed it made up for in luxury. Paige wasn’t looking for luxury, though. Due to the war in Africa, Somalia was a no-fly zone, the only ways to get there internationally was to fly to Europe and drive down, or go by sea.
Although her worry made her feel sick to her stomach, Paige was tired and hungry and the liner wouldn’t leave for another 15 minutes. So, she bought a small coffee and a ham ‘n’ cheese croissant from the cafe and stood by the concrete pillars and chains separating the people on the dock from the water’s edge. She watched and waited, her tears stifled. She wasn’t scared anymore, because she had a goal. She was going to see her Mohamed, and she was going to kiss him. It was the promise she had made to herself, and she intended to keep it.

When she boarded the boat, it was surprisingly easy. She thought that the people at reception would be suspicious of a sixteen year old travelling alone. But thanks to the chaperone drone, everyone let her straight through, barely batting an eye. She headed on-board the aqualiner, named Silver Goddess, and headed up the stairs to the flush deck, and headed to the aft theatre. She was one of the first on-board, so she sat in a velvet seat near the back of the room.
  “Hoverfly, I need to put you away,” Paige said to the drone, and she held out a hand. The drone blinked its blue eyes, then flew to her hand. The helicopter blades spun down, then the extended propeller arms folded in and collapsed within the body of the drone, leaving just a little white box in her hand, about the size of a whitebread sandwich. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry. I just don’t want you to fly into a wall from the momentum.”
The drone beeped, then went on standby, She tucked the drone into her bag, then stowed the bag under her seat.
The ship was boarded efficiently, and soon the entire group of passengers was aboard and people filled the theatre, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. The ship’s MC stood on the stage and introduced himself, giving the safety demonstration, but Paige was uninterested. She’d been aboard an aqualiner before, so she merely did up her seatbelt and waited. She felt the ship begin to move as the MC gave his presentation. After 20 minutes, the audience applauded and he left the stage to sit down and do up his seatbelt as well. Everyone was strapped in and waited. There was an announcement from the captain over the PA system, he gave a brief weather report, wished everyone a safe trip and warned everyone that they were about to accelerate and that they should be seated with a belt on.
Then, after a few seconds, Paige felt the jolt of the ship’s jet engines, then severe turbulence of the whole boat getting up to speed. It lasted for two minutes before the boat successfully managed to aquaplane and everything smoothed out once more. The captain announced that they could remove their seatbelts, and wished them a good day. Paige merely headed straight for the lido deck. The top deck was surrounded by a bar, a stage and several deck chairs as well as a pool in the middle. Because of the speed of the ship, the top deck was surrounded by a sleek, glass dome to protect from wind shear, but the view was beautiful nonetheless. The ocean whipping past like rolling, blue fields and the seaport behind them slipping into the horizon. It was so dark in the early morning, and although it was peaceful and beautiful, all it did was remind Paige of how far away her boyfriend was. It was early afternoon in Somalia, and she probably wouldn’t arrive for a whole day. She hoped that Mohamed would be okay. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a piece of paper. It was covered in scribbles and crossed out words, but it had two lines of poetry which weren’t scribbled out, written in Somali. She had written it for Mohamed, and last time they spoke, she wanted to read it to him. He loved her so much; he had put most of his effort into speaking English, just to speak with her. At the very least, she wanted to return the favour by trying to learn some Somali:
  Labada Waxaan aad u fog, oo weli laga dareemayo si dhow;
  Bishii riyadeeyda, adduunka inagu dhexeeya kuma jiro
Even if it was a terrible translation, she still wanted to read it to him. The last time they spoke, he said he wanted to read it, but then he’d had to go to the hospital. She put the poem back in her pocket and went to lay down on one of the deck chairs by the pool.
She opened her bag and took out the Hoverfly drone once more.
  “Wake up, Hoverfly,” she said, holding it out in her hand. The drone extended its arms once more and, whirring softly, flew up in the air to keep an eye on her. Then Paige laid back, and looked up at the sky, wondering whether or not Moh would be alright when she finally found him. But it was so late, she’d been up all night playing a v-game with her friends, she hadn’t slept. Then this had happened, she hadn’t been able to sleep, but now she felt so tired. Her eyes started to close . . .

Paige opened her eyes to the sound of her ringing phone. She rubbed her eyes, and felt her face, stinging red from the heat of the sun. She was sweaty from her jacket and threw it off herself, then rummaged through it before she found the phone. She read the screen: ✆ HOME
Paige hesitated. It was her parents. She didn’t want to answer the phone, unsure what they were going to say, she might be in trouble. But, she’d probably be in worse trouble if she didn’t answer the phone. She tapped “answer”.
  “Hello?” she said.
  “Paige?” said her father. “Paige, where are you right now?”
  “I’m on a cruise liner,” she replied, rubbing her eyes, “did you read the note I left?”
  “We read it, what does this mean? You’re headed for Africa?”
  “Yes, I’m heading to Somalia. I’ll be back soon enough, I promise.”
Her Dad didn’t respond for a moment, but she heard a crackle in the speaker as he sighed.
  “Paige, we want you to come home. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is in Africa?” asked her Dad.
  “I’ve got Hoverfly with me,” I said. “And it’s not like I can turn the liner around. I’ll be at the port in less than a day, and the return trip isn’t for two days. I’ll go to the hospital to see him in that time.”
There was another pause. Then she heard her mother’s voice.
  “What were you thinking, Paige? You leave in the middle of the night; you take a suitcase and run off to a warzone?! how can we even pay for this?”
  “I used my savings, but I can make it back, I promise. Mom, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to make sure Mohamed is okay. I’ll be back in a few days, I promise. I love you.”
Paige hung up the phone. She felt ashamed, but trapped. She didn’t feel like she had any other choice, she had to go, she had to find him and make sure he was okay. She stared at her phone, anxiously, but her parents didn’t call back. Perhaps they knew they couldn’t talk her out of it, or they knew it was pointless, since she couldn’t turn the boat around, or perhaps she’d convinced them, but that was unlikely.

Paige spent the rest of the cruise wandering around the ship, taking lots of photos on her phone. She even managed to watch some of the theatre shows and observed some of the on-board activities; as she got closer and closer to Mohamed, the tight knot in her stomach felt like it was beginning to loosen and it felt okay to enjoy herself. No matter what, things would be better when she could finally see him, and hear his voice. And she looked forward to telling him what it was like on an aqualiner and showing him all of her photos, since he’d never been on one before. On the night before their arrival, there was a party on the lido deck. Paige didn’t want to dance, but she had a mocktail and sat by the pool, with Hoverfly nearby, listening to the music. Some of the young boys asked her to dance, and she couldn’t help but smile when she refused, saying that she already had a boyfriend.
After the party, Paige had trouble sleeping, she was too excited, so she walked around the promenade deck and looked at the night sky. It was like an infinite black, stretching onto the horizon, as though ship were speeding through shadow, but above her the stars shone brighter than she’d ever seen from her apartment window. She watched the water flying past, and couldn’t wait to see Mohamed’s homeland.

†

Mohamed woke up feeling a soft ache in his side. Although dulled by anaesthetic, he could still feel a warm pain through the numbness. He could hear a soft buzzing sound. He opened his eyes, and when he saw the white ceiling, he quickly remembered that he was in the hospital. Taking a deep breath, he stretched his back and rolled onto his side to get more comfortable, but then he saw her. She was sitting at his bedside in a plastic chair. She smiled when he looked at her, and it took him a moment to recognize her. So used to her avatar with the pink and purple hair and the cherryblossom dress, he was surprised to see her beautiful red hair, and wearing jeans with a light blue, long-sleeved shirt.
  “Jeclahay?” he said.
  “Mohamed,” she said, scooting her chair closer. “Hey, it’s good to see you’re awake.”
  “Come here,” he said, and he coaxed her forward with a gesture of his hand. She leant down and he raised a hand, he touched her cheek. It was colder than he expected, but soft, smooth and most importantly real. “What are you doing?”
  “I had to see you,” she said. “I didn’t know what had happened to you. And when you said goodbye. When you left for the hospital, I realized just how precious our time is, and just how much we would miss out on if one of us were lost. So, no matter what happened with you, I decided to come here, and kiss you. To make sure that we wouldn’t miss out.”
  “Then, please,” said Mohamed, “Don’t wait any longer.”
Paige bent down and pressed her lips to his. Mohamed ran his fingers through her fiery hair as he finally kissed her for the first time.
When they finally parted, there were tears in Mohamed’s eyes.
  “Thank you,” he said. “I love you, Jeclahay.”
  “I love you too, pumpkin,” she said. And she took his hand to hold it in hers.
  “Did they tell you, though?” he said.
  “Hmm? Tell me what?”
  “I’m fine,” he said. He wriggled back to sit up on his pillow, and lifted his shirt with his other hand to show the bandage on his hip. “I need to stay, to rest. I was shot kidney, it was . . . cudurka. Hurt bad, broken up. They took it out.”
  “Did it hurt?”
  “No, not so bad.”
  “Oh, that reminds me,” said Paige. “I wrote you a poem. I wanted to share it with you.”
  “A poem?” he said.
  “Yes, promise you won’t laugh, the translation might be a bit bad,” she said, taking the note out of her pocket.
  “Never at you,” he said.
Paige cleared her throat, feeling a little nervous:
“Labada Waxaan aad u fog, oo weli laga dareemayo si dhow;
Bishii riyadeeyda, adduunka inagu dhexeeya kuma jiro.”
  “We both so far, yet we feel so very close;” Mohamed translated, with a smile. ”In my dreams, there’s no world between us.”
  “I hope it’s not dorky,” she said.
  “It’s not dorky,” he said. “It’s beautiful . . . like you.”
  “Aww . . .” Paige swooned.
After a moment, he glanced up in the air and frowned. “What is that?”
  “Oh, that’s Hoverfly,” said Paige. “He’s my chaperone drone. Just keeping an eye on me to make sure I don’t get into trouble.”
  “It’s watching us?” he said.
  “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s cute and clever, but it’s just a robot.”
  “Okay. Could it go away? So we can have privacy. I don’t want any more technology pulling us apart.”
  “It won’t,” said Paige. “But if you want . . . Hoverfly, Sleep.”
The robot flew down to the foot of the bed, switched off with a beep and folded up its propellers. Paige picked it up and put it in the bag under her chair. Before she sat down, Mohamed spoke.
  “No don’t sit,” said Mohamed, shuffling over in the bed and patting the sheet beside him. “Come, join me.”
  “What?”
  “The chairs are not comfortable, come on,” he said.
With a smirk, Paige climbed onto the bed beside him. As she settled in, Mohamed took her hand in his.
  “I have to tell you,” Paige said softly, so only he could hear, “I do have to go home in a few days, when the boat leaves.”
  “I don’t mind,” he said. “This, now, is as close as I feel to you. Always. So very close.”
  “Yet, so far,” said Paige.
  “It is good to finally kiss you,” said Mohamed.
  “We can do more if you want,” said Paige. “How long do you have to stay in the hospital?”
  “They should let me go home today.”
  “Then we can have our first date,” said Paige, excitedly.
  “So long as it’s safe,” said Mohamed, with a frown. “I wouldn’t want you to get shot.”
  “It’s okay, I thought of that,” said Paige. “When I got directions to the hospital, I asked one of the staff on the ship about coming aboard. They said that they can give you a visitor’s pass. You have to leave before we disembark, but we can visit a restaurant or cafe on the ship, so long as it’s not the buffet.”
  “That would be perfect,” said Mohamed. “I’ve never been on a ship before.”
  “Oh, right!” says Paige, taking her phone out of her pocket. “I wanted to show you my trip.”
She took the phone out of her pocket and opened up her photo album, then began showing it to Mohamed, with commentary on each image as to what she had done. She nestled her head on his shoulder and leaned towards her so he could see each picture . . . and the two of them couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

The End