Falling through the dark chute was the least of Ashlan’s worries. Everyone’s dead dreams would provide a soft cushion for her body. It was the looming feeling she couldn’t escape Mena that dogged her. Ashlan dropped out of the chute and plopped onto the soft, sponge-like dreams. She had a brief moment to observe the finished basement of Mena’s “pet golem” as she called him. As always, Rocksworth was in his lavatub, singing a Rockestra hymm from Steelfordshire and dabbing lava beneath his armpit.
“A student,” the golem exclaimed. “How did you get down here?”
Before Ashlan could explain, a pool of jet black bubbled up from the floor, and Mena or whoever she was now, emerged, dripping like she was dipped in a vat of Quillington’s finest ink.
There was a darkness in her pupilless eyes, “Give me that book…”
“Why?” Ashlan asked. “Who are you? What became of the Rainy I once knew?”
Mena closed her eyes as her hair changed to liquid and covered her face. She raised her left hand, and suddenly, the cover of the book in Ashlan’s hands shifted from a handsome warlock to a hideous pair of red eyes and a wrinkly mouth. “I’m a book demon,” it cawed from Ashlan’s hands. “Or a specifically, a Marisou. I latch onto my prey and transform them into sheer perfection.”
The book let out a sickly, slimy giggle. “The only cost is…their autonomy.”
“So, you’re nothing but a parasite,” Ashlan growled.
“Oh, but I’m doing the bidding of someone else,” the Marisou said boastfully. “But combining myself with the key to this universe, was eassssy. Her desires were so easy to corrupt: a simple promise of being loved and adored by all in her moment of darknessssss.”
The Marisou caused Mena to click her neck and give a devious grin.
Ashlan threw her head forward, her fiery mane bristling. “You latched onto the wrong girl. I’m going to get Rainy back.”
She paged through the book again, prompting Mena to howl and spit blots of ink at the lioness. Ashlan gasped and sprinted around the room. The ink splattered all over tables of rock sirloin dissolving it. “Good heavens,” Rocksworth cried, raising his hands in a panic. “My dinner…”
Ashlan ducked behind a lampshade, but a blot of ink dissolved it too.
“My mother gave me that,” Rockworth said, his hands now on his face.
The tiled dance floor was next to dissolve. Ashlan pranced on the tips of her toes, avoiding the puddles of acidic ink. She hopped off as it dissolved into the concrete. “How am I ever going to do the Rockstep after this?” the golem wailed.
Ashlan ran over to the hot tub. It was bubbling vicariously with lava and flames
Mena glided over, black ink dripping from her mouth.
“No where to go,” the book demon snarled. “Either submit to me or I’ll dissolve you into an unwritten story.”
Ashlan touched the book again. She was in point blank range of Mena. “Don’t touch me,” Mena screamed.
Ashlan heard the churning of the lava beside her and a crazy idea passed through her mind.
“Ok…” Ashlan said, puffing hard. “I surrender…as long as you can catch.”
Ashlan hurled the Marisou into the lava tub, prompting Mena to hiss “NOOOOOOO.”
Mena leaped to the top of the pool, but it was too late. Love Across Dimensions burst into flames and sunk into the lava. “My perfection, my perfection,” Mena screamed as she wobbled back and forth about to fall into the tub.
“Mena,” Ashlan yelled and grasped her friend.
Mena struggled, attempting to jump in the lava, but Ashlan held her back.
A specter of black ink emerged from Mena’s body and flew up into the air towards the high ceiling.
“I….” Mena gasped, on the brink of consciousness. “I only…wanted…everyone…to like…me.”
Mena’s body went limp, leaving her unconscious in Ashlan’s arms. Rocksworth stared silently as Ashlan hugged her friend tightly.
“She’s waking, she’s waking,” a squawky voice called from outside of Mena’s consciousness. Mena opened her eyes and found herself in the Lollypop infirmary.
Gemini, Janus, May and even Ashlan stood before her as she came to.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
She was once in the dark hospital ward at the start of her first year, but now the room seemed even darker and oppressive. There was a strange tube that was connected to her arm, and it seemed to syphon out a dark ink like substance from her body. It extracted itself from a nearby machine where the viscous dark liquid foamed and frothed in a circular jar.
“Uhhh…guys,” Mena moaned. “What happened? What is this machine?”
Gemini walked over merrily and tapped the glass. “This is the Jar of Despair. It removes your darkest, most tainted emotions from your body and keeps it a handy dandy location for later observation.”
May’s rosy cheeks puffed out as she took a deep breath. “Would you believe it, Mena, if we told you that you were slowly submitting your consciousness to an evil book demon in exchange for the acceptance of a bunch of students and teachers you never even talk to? Along with the sheer nerve to turn your back on your true friends? The people who have stood by you since the beginning. Would you believe that?”
Mena rubbed her aching head. “That sounds about right…”
Her memories of the past few nights were like shadows perpetually dodging every attempt to bring them to the light. But all she remembered deep inside her was a hunger for attention and a deep sorrow over the loss of her caretaker. As Mena burrowed deeper and deeper into her head, she came upon a sentence she never agreed to when she accepted it: “Life isn’t always perfect, but it can be, when you become its author.”
“Guys…” Mena sobbed, the memories rushing back. “I’m sorry. The book promised me that I could make life better…and as you know, it had gotten so much worse for me…but… that’s no excuse.”
Janus put a bony hand on Ashlan’s shoulder, causing the lioness to flinch. “You’re lucky that the least likely person in the whole school saved your life: your arch-frenemy.”
Ashlan flinched again, looking back and forth, before pressing her paws together. “Yeah…I save you.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Gemini said with a smile and began cavorting around the room. “Rocksworth told me how you boldly dodged oncoming projectiles of highly corrosive ink, spat at you by your own ex-roommate. It caused all of his furniture to dissolve along with the taxpayer cash invested in Rockworth’s finished basement”—Gemini held out his hand dramatically before his head sunk low—" The only tragedy incurred that day was the loss of our school funding for a whole year.”
Mena squeaked. “Sunny, did you really do that for me? Do you really care about me that much?”
“What?” Ashlan roared before turning bright pink. “No, I happened to be in the right place at the right time…but I’m glad you’re alright.”
Mena’s surveyed her room. “Where are all my teacher friends? Stellaris? Caligari? Nebula?”
May shook her head. “They don’t want to see you.”
“But…” Mena said, her eyes widening. “Why?”
“Caligari,” May began. “Won’t come out of the shadows after you told her all those mean things about why Gemini doesn’t like her.”
“Oh my,” Mena said, her face turning pale. She vaguely recalled those pointed words aimed at the phantom professor.
“And for a matter of fact, witchy-poo,” Gemini said with a raise of his gloved hand. “I do like women with mustaches. My mother and I have a very good relationship.”
“Stellaris,” May continued. “Is upset you conned her into becoming her assistant teacher.”
“And Nebula?” Mena asked. “How did I upset her?”
“You didn’t,” Janus giggled. “She’s still finishing 60,000 reps of bench presses.”
“Miserable Magicaps,” Mena whined, sliding beneath her sheets. “I really mucked up this time.”
A posh voice echoed from outside the room, “Oh yes you did, you terrible child.”
Poshleen and her family walked in. Her father grasped her daughter by the hand and dragged her along. She had an uneasy expression on her face, like she knew she would be in dire trouble much later.
Mr. Dubois with his curly mustache pointed with great ire at Mena. “Somehow I knew my retched daughter would be the undoing of us. Leading us to this uncouth school so we could be brainwashed by a possessed child. It BOGGLES the mind.”
Mrs. Dubois was equally furious. She belted deeply from her throat, “We have magically contacted WCAL and they have barred you from the contest, Phenomena Willow.”
Mena started to cry. That was her only way to Wormwood for the writing contest and to see her auntie.
Mr. Dubois pulled up Poshleen’s hand, lifting his daughter up above the ground. “And not only that, LAWYERS. We shall hire a cabal of lawyers and sue you for all your worth.”
Gemini paraded himself over to Dubois with a glare on his face. Dubois was so alarmed by the Clown Prince of Dreams that he dropped Poshleen and stood eye to eye with the surprisingly serious Gemini.
“Phenomena Willow,” the headmaster proclaimed. “Is in my student, and so, you will have to go through this school AND me in order to get to her.”
“Very well,” said Dubois, slightly backing off. “If that’s how I must. I will mug this school for all its worth.”
The Dubois stormed off as Poshleen cast one last tentative glance in their direction. “Thank God, that poor girl is homeschooled.” Janus said at least. “Those snobs make Miss Lion over here look like Miss Modest.”
“Guys,” Mena sobbed, as her friends and frienemy all crowded around her. “I’ve ruined everything.”
May and Janus reached over and embraced Mena from her bed. They couldn’t disagree with what the young witch had done, but much to her relief, their hugs meant they still had her back. They were the people who still loved her even after she was so bad to them. Unlike the girls she brainwashed, they knew her name and the place she was truly coming from.
And even as Mena looked towards Ashlan who squirmed uncomfortably as the young witch smiled at her, she knew that all was not lost. She still had her friends and frienemy in this time of needless despair.
Mena bid everyone farewell as they left her to rest. She stared at the repulsive bubbling liquid in the Jar of Despair and cursed it out. If it weren’t for that 'dang muck' and her own stupidity, believing it could fill the empty space inside her, she wouldn’t be in this miserable mess. Mena closed her eyes to the sound of her own bubbling malevolence.
Mena awoke in a veil of fog, grass tickling her arms and legs. Mena’s long hair flowed out onto the ground of the misty meadow. As she slowly rose, she craned her neck, but beyond the fog was nothing but darkness. She heard a gentle humming and watched wordlessly as a woman in a chartreuse sun dress passed her by. Her head was turned away, but Mena immediately knew who it was. “Dede,” she stifled a cry, but the woman refused to turn around. Walking off into the depths of the fog and then into the deeper darkness.
The light turned on and Mena awoke in infirmary. Much to her surprise, however, the tube attached to her arm was gone. She looked over at the Jar of Despair, but it had vanished too. All that was left was an enormous blot of ink on the table.