SMILE! GAMES ARE FUN!

The next morning I woke up with my face very, very sore. I reached up with my hands to feel it, and the muscles felt stiff, and unyielding. Aleister was not sleeping next to me, as had become his custom. Why was that?

Like a bag of rocks, the memories of the day prior fell on my chest. I had chased the poor, frightened cat all over the house! And, the worst part was I knew exactly what I would have done if I caught him.

My face spasmed with pain, and I rolled over.

I tried massaging my face, but nothing happened, and as my hands glided over my skin, I started to feel pinpricks of fear. Something was wrong with my face.

I got up, still half asleep and slouched to the bathroom, to see what was wrong.

I turned on the lights, and stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t scream, but I wanted to. My face was stretched into a horrible grin, too wide for my face, the teeth jutting out monstrously. I did everything I could to make my face go back to normal, clawing my own cheeks to make them yield. The scratch marks slowly oozed blood.

Tears leaked out my eyes, which I could see were open wide in fear and desperation, as I tried to wrest control of my frozen facial muscles.

I started screaming then, but it came out muffled through the clenched teeth, and my tears spilled over my lips, which were reddened from the exertion of the horrible rictus smile, little wounds appearing where the pink skin was stretched beyond endurance.

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I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, my mouth went back to normal. I was rocking myself on the bathroom tile, trying to remain calm, when I finally felt my face slacken.

DO YOU SEE?

Nope, nope I sure didn't. I didn't see anything, as I shut my eyes, and shook my head with denial.

YOU HAVE TO PLAY. YOU HAVE TO.

Goawaygoawaygoaway I rocked and rocked on the bathroom tile, clutching my arms around myself, trying to find some solace in the warmth as I cradled myself to and fro.

HA HA

I stood up on unsteady legs, my face stinging with the self-induced scratches, and the muscles, finally slack, still on fire from the exertion.

I had to do something. I had to figure out something.

I shambled back into the kitchen and called my only companion.

“Aleister…are you there?” For a moment, nothing. Half of me was frightened to death that my only friend had fled during the night, and the other half dearly hoped that he had run away, so that I couldn’t hurt him if I lost control of myself again.

“Up here.” I spun around, and saw the cat perched above the cabinetry, which was usually Cheerful’s roost. The cat was hiding from me, I realized. Good.

“That’s alright, you should stay there, out of reach.” I said weakly. The cat didn’t answer.

I paced back and forth in the kitchen, my legs barely holding me up. But the motion calmed me, and I began to think more clearly.

My mind was circling round and round. How do I get rid of it?

No way, no way to get rid of it, besides PLAYING the game, I had to play the game…

I shook my head.

I had to do something, do anything, but just giving in and playing the thing’s game was not it! I got a brief flash of three Sorcerers coming into this house, and carrying out my limp body, which as it turned out, was already several days dead, like Mr. Finley’s had been.

The image, even though it was imaginary , chilled me to the bone. Was I already dead? Was I walking corpse, shambling about, like in Aleister’s story?

I couldn’t think like that! If I was already a corpse, why had blood come out of my cheeks when I scratched them? Why was I panting so hard now? Why did it feel like my heart was ripping out of my ribcage with every thumb of my pulse?

The Sorcerers in Aleister’s story; my mind kept circling around and around, and coming back to that. To Meredith, the Tiny, who kept herself eternally childlike.

Why was it so important?

Aleister said she was the only one who seemed unperturbed by the darkness of Mr. Finley’s house. But why?

“Aleister, do you remember Meredith? You told me about her the other night?” I asked, still pacing.

“Yes?” Came the cat’s reply, from above.

“You said she kept herself eternally small. Why was that?” I asked.

“She’s the only Sorceress I know under the sign of Pitchfork.” Aleister replied, but that didn't make any sense. Perhaps sensing my confusion, the cat continued. “The patron of her Sign is a Scarecrow, named Gillygad. I don’t know exactly why, but Meredith retained the form of a child to gain his favor. Only…”

“Only, what?”

“Only, I’ve heard, and this is more recent news, that she has reverted to an adult, saying she’s done with all that. Everyone knows the Scarecrow is fickle. I suppose she couldn’t keep his favor. Anyway, why does it matter?”

“I don’t know…” I said honestly.

Gillygad. What an odd name. Where had I seen it before?

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I paced back and forth, thinking about the name, trying to remember. Gillygad, Gillygad, really it was a very silly name.

And then it hit me.

I opened Old Toad’s Grimoire, which was mercifully still available to me. I closed my eyes and thought: something to help me win a game.

As before, only one entry showed up.

Silly Gillygad

Was that the reason Meredith came out of Mr. Finley’s house with nary a scratch on her? Did she brew herself a potion to help her win a game against the thing that wore Mr. Finley? A potion that needed the Sign of Pitchfork to be in accordance?

“Aleister, listen, you said that the Scarecrow was in charge of games…” I said, my thoughts catching up with me. I was starting to formulate a plan.

“Yes, I did. Games, specifically children’s games; also trickery, laughter and delirium. Why?”

“There’s a potion, it’s called ‘Silly Gillygad,’ maybe if I…”

“Don't bother with the Scarecrow, or his potions.” Aleister interrupted.

“Why? Can you tell me more about this potion?”

It took awhile for the reply to come, as Aleister seemed deep in thought.

“There’s been talk of banning it for many years. Whenever someone wins too many hands of cards, it always gets brought up. It helps one win games, you see.”

“Yes. That's exactly what I need! I need to win a game!” I said. Maybe there was a way out of this!

“But they never did ban it, because so few Sorcerers use it.” Aleister finished.

“Why?”

“It's dangerous.”

Of course it was. This whole magic thing seemed to be one danger after another.

“Why is it dangerous?” I asked cautiously.

“Because Gillygad is…particular. He only helps innocent and defenseless things. Little kids, puppies, old ladies.” Aleister looked me up and down, maybe considering if I fit the bill or not.

“I see…” I said slowly. Was that why Meredith kept herself tiny?

“No, you don’t. The consequences of brewing it, and having the Scarecrow decide you’re not worthy of his help, can be disastrous. I have heard some Sorcerers lost their minds after an attempt...”

“It’s the only solution I have.” I said, with finality. What else could I do? Risk myself against some Scarecrow, or go against an evil spirit that can take complete control of me? The choice seemed simple. Surely, Gillygad wouldn’t take control of my face and force it into a hideous and painful grin?

“I have a solution, too.” Aleister replied.

He kept that quiet! This whole time I was spinning myself in circles, trying to find anything to do against this monster that now lived inside of my skin, and the cat had an answer all along!

“What is it?!” I asked.

“I've sent for Mistress. You just have to survive until she gets back.” He said.

That was a sensible solution. Get the full-on Sorceress, experience and all, to come help me. But there was just one problem.

“How long do you think that will be? Before she comes back, I mean?”

“I really can't say. She travels extensively. It could be several days. Maybe longer.” Aleister said, unhappy at the prospect of waiting so long.

I knew in my heart that I did not have several days.

“Look, even if I thought I could survive several days, we’re almost out of food. We might starve before she gets back.” This was true, although it wasn’t my main concern. The lentils were all but gone. There was one jar of pickled vegetables, a handful of beans, and the Dandelions, which Cheerful brought.

Aleister didn’t have a reply for that.

“Aleister, I know you don’t like it, but I really feel, somewhere deep inside of me, that the answer lies in getting to this Gillygad guy. Brewing his potion, and seeing what happens.” I said, and it was true. Something was calling me to reach the sign of Pitchfork. I really felt like I was on the right track.

“You could barely brew two simple potions. What makes you think you could pull off Silly Gillygad? And I’ve never seen anyone brew it. I would be of no help.”

“That’s alright. That’s fine, actually, I think you should get out of here.” I said, my voice trembling. I hated the idea of being locked in this house with only myself and whatever dark thing was sharing my skin. But I had almost caught Aleister yesterday, and I didn’t want to risk doing that again!

Aleister didn’t say anything.

“Seriously. You need to go.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strict and commanding.

“I can’t just leave you.” The cat finally answered.

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The cat was still trying to convince me that the right thing to do was sit tight and wait for the mistress of the house to return. I had other plans.

I opened Old Toad’s, and pulled up the entry for Silly Gillygad.

I expected to have to face a riddle, and was pleasantly surprised that, like Nestor’s Bitters, the entire page came up. I didn’t have time to mess with riddles and puzzles to unlock things!

Then I read the entry.

It appeared that the entire recipe was a riddle of sorts. The instructions gave no clear direction, and I would have to go line by line to figure out how to brew it.

I frowned. Aleister was right. I could barely brew two relatively simple potions. How could I even attempt this?

“Mistress will know what to do.” Aleister tried consoling me, “Maybe try to sit and relax. Take deep breaths and still yourself.”

I tried his advice, and took even breaths, counting between each exhalation. For a few minutes, it helped.

With the stillness, came mental clarity. And with mental clarity, I came to a horrid realization.

The thing took control of my mind yesterday. It took control of my body, today. How long did I have? Thinking about it, still trying to count my breaths to quell the panic, I came to the conclusion that I probably had one more night left. And then?

What would happen to me then?

Would the thing take over my body completely? What would that be like? I got a little taste, when my face had stretched into that hideous smile, of how unpleasant the prospect would be.

“Aleister, I’m really scared…” I said softly.

“Don’t be scared. We'll make it through yet.” The cat tried to comfort me.

I don’t know if it had been my thoughts that brought it in, but suddenly my hands spasmed, turning claw-like and rigid.

“You need to leave!” I gasped, my voice shaking with terror. “Aleister, run now! Don’t come back, please!”

“No I can’t…” the cat had started to say.

I felt my facial muscles spasm again, as the rictus grin stretched over my cheeks. I moaned in pain. The muscles in my face felt like they were being stretched to their limit.

Perhaps it was the horrifying view of my unnatural visage, but Aleister finally changed his mind.

“I can go get help…” He said, unsure of himself.

I tried using my arms to wave him to the door. Go, I wanted to shout. Get to safety! But my face wouldn’t yield, and I could make nothing but muffled half noises. No words.

I rushed after the cat, intent on bodily putting him out of the house.

Finally, Aleister bolted.

FINALLY! TONIGHT!