“Wow…” Annabelle heard Luna mutter in what sounded like indecisiveness, as if she had no idea what to make of what she’d just heard, “…that was something else compared to the previous two.”

“Pretty different, yeah.” Agreed Malcolm. “That’s not to say it didn’t do the job of keeping our minds off things, though – then again, what wouldn’t at this point…” he then quickly added at the last second after realizing what he’d said, “…but I digress. Good story, it really was.”

Henrik spoke next with some mild fascination in his voice, “I didn’t know you could do this well in the drama genre about as much as your typical comfort zone of horror.”

At this, Malcolm piped up, “That last bit, though – that was undoubtedly and precisely an Annabelle Deckard-esque thing. Excruciatingly detailed descriptions of a person being eaten and digested alive? Brrr… that’s probably gonna live rent-free in my head for god knows how long even after we’re out of here and safe and sound in the back of an ambulance.”

Annabelle obviously knew Malcolm was only trying his best to be funny for the same reason she was telling these stories in the first place. But at the same time she didn’t know how to feel about him doing so while occasionally letting slip reminders of their predicament that might rub the others the wrong way. Because no sooner had Malcolm finished his sentence, Luna immediately opened her mouth, no doubt to change the subject, “I’m kinda curious, was there any inspiration for making up a story like this one? Just asking, because again, this was a rather surprising but decent departure from what we’re used to seeing from you.”

Annabelle replied, “I was channel surfing at home this one day when I randomly turned on a movie channel that happened to be showing the first Harry Potter movie. It was during the scene where Harry tried to show his parents in the Mirror of Erised to Ron but all Ron saw was a reflection of himself as both Head Boy and Quidditch captain.”

“Ohhh.” Henrik said in a slow tone of realization, “I think I have a hunch as to where you’re going with this.”

Annabelle huffed a single small chuckle and continued, “I knew you might say that the moment I mentioned the mirror. Though it wasn’t until the scene where Dumbledore explains to Harry the functions and dangers of the mirror that I really got the gears turning in my head. Because if you actually think about it, the idea of people being consumed by their own desires to the point of forgetting to live in the now, or just life in general, is pretty terrifying on its own.”

“Mhm.” Luna mumbled, and Annabelle thought she heard her nodding against the headrest of her car seat, “I too remember Dumbledore saying that men either wasted away or went insane from obsessing over what they saw in the mirror.”

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“’It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live’.” Henrik recited the famous quote and said, “Words of wisdom to live by, if you ask me.”

“So you got the idea of people being consumed by their desires,” Said Malcolm, “and decided to take the ‘consumed’ part literally for your story?”

“In a nutshell.” Annabelle replied. Though there had actually been much more than just that to her story’s creation, she’d figured she might as well also bring a little levity of her own for all of their sake, hence the answer.

“When you put it that way,” Luna said thoughtfully, “I’d say you did put a nice spin of your own on the idea. Though I also must admit the story’s pretty hard to categorize as a specific thing, and thus somewhat harder to raise certain expectations towards.”

“Like say, you can’t expect a full-on drama story because then the ending will really throw you off, but then you can’t say this is a straightforward horror story either because it’s not really horror for the most part.” Malcolm added in agreement.

In response to that, Henrik piped up, “I guess there’s always the option of categorizing it as a supernatural drama with a dash of horror elements. Hell, add that to the high school setting and the girl-to-girl love thing, and I was close to start comparing it to that 1999 movie, Memento Mori.”

Slightly surprised at this unexpectedly random reference, Annabelle asked, “You’ve seen that too? I thought I was the only one out of us who did.”

For some reason Henrik remained silent and didn’t answer, while Annabelle instead heard Malcolm speak next, “That was what it reminded you of? Because I was thinking more of Coraline – you know, girl protagonist who’s dissatisfied with her current life, enters a world where everything seems the same except with certain things changed to her liking, said world turns out to be a trap set up by an entity who tries to eat her up… minus the happy ending.”

Having also been aware of these parallels back when she had first conceived the story, Annabelle asked as another sort of joke to lighten things up, “So you’re saying this story was just a version of Coraline where the Other Mother wins and sets her eyes on a next victim?”

Being himself, Malcolm returned the gesture, “Overall, nicely done story, but slight points off for falling short in terms of originality.”

“And I suppose zombies and creepy trees have never been done before?” Annabelle responded with yet another joke which, surprisingly, cracked all four of them up a fair amount – something Annabelle didn’t think they would’ve been able to do right now even if Malcolm had said the funniest thing ever known to mankind.

Nevertheless, Annabelle was grateful for that bit of laughter among them, no matter how short-lived it had been. Somehow, more than ever before, it gave her the much-needed reassurance that things were going to be okay in the end. Sure, no amount of laughter or distractions via storytelling could do anything like make help arrive faster or suddenly vanish the aching pain all over her body. But at that moment Annabelle saw this as a sign that they were enduring their crisis well enough. She now had more hope for all of them, that they’d most certainly pull themselves through to the light at the end of this tunnel.

Just then, Annabelle was brought back to earth when Malcolm spoke up in his most positive tone of voice since the crash, as if he’d been thinking the same things as her, “Well, I think this calls for yet another round to keep passing the time, don’t you?”

And for once, in her state of very mildly lifted spirits, Annabelle couldn’t agree more.