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My friends always said I was freaking funny. Too funny to just keep it with them. Find a place where I can show it off, make others laugh, maybe earn a living from it.
Recently out of a house and needing some gil, I thought it a quick and easy way to success. Not to mention the failings of all the other jobs I had tried my hands at. Thatâs when I saw it, some ruined piece of paper that had been pinned to the town board of the Touring Theatre group with a Tonberryâs Lantern as its symbol; Tonberryâs Lantern.
Simple name with a simple symbol. Maybe I could start there. Move up in the world while seeing the world.
Twelve above, I wish I had never seen that damned mud splattered flier.
Bright eyed and eager to make a quick gil, I went and saw their show. Back then I thought it was great. Pretty guys and girls coming out to dance the night away in costumes full of chocobo feathers. Overpriced drinks bought, as a person couldnât be bothered to walk all the way out of the tent and across the fair grounds to get something less. Cheap perfume that was too thick in the air from the locals trying to impress someone, while that said someone was too drunk to notice.
Less of a Theatre type and felt more like a circus act.
Found out later I was half-right. The fliers neglected to mention they were a part of it. Went to the ownerâs tent, saying I wanted to do some funny ha-ha on a stage. Owner was some old guy, wrinkled face and a long unkept beard. Must have been half-way through a bottle after several before it, as he rambled on.
âA stage must have its jester, heroes, and villainsâ. He drunkenly stated, asking if I knew what that meant. Rambled on about how it had to be done in that order. Warm up the crowd and have them relax, before the story could be told. Iâd be key. Asked me if I knew the âgreatsâ or whatever that meant. I gladly lied through my teeth, making fake stories up of books I had read, while muttering some made up author name and hoping he didnât notice.
Either he didnât care or he bought my shit, as before I knew it, I was signing my life away to this place. I saw what the people out there found funny, hell I could easily do better! Give them a laugh and then some!
The place I was staying at was once owned by my family, but now it was run down and I was going to fall behind soon on the bills. Screw it! Sold the place to get a nice lump sum before hitting the road to an easy gil and a traveling bunch of misfits!
Itâs amazing how in a year's time how quickly a group could go down the drain.
Canât recall if it started with the knife thrower missing the target and hitting a member in the crowd after taking to the stage drunk or if it was one of the dancers hurling their afternoon lunch on the stage and getting others sick.
One after another, shit kept happening. A damned worker got on stage and missed all their cues. Crooked smiles from the vendors who had started selling more than just overpriced drinks, to shifty-eyed looking people in cloaks. Some of the local towns blamed us for an increase in traffic of âillegal goodsâ.
The circus act part was falling apart, and our little âtheater groupâ wasnât far behind. People used to laugh and cheer when I first joined. A few changes later, and I was learning what types of fruits and other rotten goods people had paid the nearby man at the counter to throw at me whenever I told a bad joke.
âYa canât dodge âem all!â I was told, as it would be too upsetting for the crowd. Dodge a few, act cocky, then take one of the softer bits to the face and act like it knocked me out, while the crowd roared with drunken glee.
Even that wasnât enough to keep them coming. We were all homeless and things had started to get dangerous. Had to find other ways to make ends meet at times. Back alley deals with strangers I wish we never met. A stolen wallet here and there. I didnât like it, nor did the other remaining theater members.
Big meeting time.
Owner wasnât stupid, but he knew in reality the Twelve werenât about to descend and get us out of this mess either. Bickers and debates flew about, right after our last show turned out pretty poorly. Got a finger pointed at me as I had only one tomatoâs guts splattered across my clown outfit instead of a dozen. Told the boss only one person, a viera with blue hair in a tattered dress threw a tomato at me, then the âcustomerâ left without a word.
The owner started shaking a bunch of handwritten pages at us.
âMasterworks, all of âem!â He declared, making others on the staff roll their eyes. We all knew he had been passing the time reading some books of old. From classic fairy tale stories all the way to the sad, but true tales of people before our time.
âRebrand!â The old man cried, thumping his hand against the tentâs wall where one of our fliers was pinned. Yellow and out of date, the only thing that could be made out was the name. The same name I had seen a year ago and thought I could make it.
Thunder roared in the far distance. A storm was rolling in. He was getting riled up, noting the cries of the clouds above and using it as some hogwash excuse to say this is where we were, but after the storm comes clear skies.
I could smell the rain even from within that musty old tent. Most of us had gone silent. Then, the owner pulled out another book, but it was different.
An old blackened leather bound book, yet it looked well taken care of. It felt like something my grandfather would have on his shelf from his days as a boy, but brand new. It looked like it once had a latch, but it was missing. Something from well before my time among the living. I felt myself frown when looking at it, but I didnât know why. I figured it was because of what he said next, thumping the book and saying he was going to get our ticket to fame. To trust him and take a leap of faith.
A few left that night, not buying it and deciding to try their luck elsewhere. Most of us remained, with little to no choice in the matter. I wasnât sure if it was because of those smart people that left or the defeated look in our eyes, but something made the owner come to a choice. He didnât say it, but we could sense it. Ticket to fame or not, he was planning something. It was big. I was curious. Fucking too curious.
He saw it and shooed the others away, before calling me to the back of his tent. Told me to wait there and heâd be back soon. He took with him a large almost comical sized briefcase and that blackened book, paused as if deciding on something, then strolled out the front of the tent.
He was back within the hour, dragging the case he had carried with ease now across the ground behind him. I went to help him. It was oddly heavy, but I could handle it. Traveling had made me gain some muscles, along with dodging so much trash thrown up on stage.
The crazy old man grabbed a shovel and thrust it between the leather handles connecting to the briefcase. Carried it by gripping the ends of the shovel and hoisting it up on my back, told me to follow him. I was still in my old clown outfit, but I didnât care. Whatever it was, it had to be better than whatever the last year had done to me.
Oh gods, how wrong I was.
There was a forest nearby that led to a mountain, where the trees had no leaves and everything looked as if it had been burned years ago, yet still remained. The storm was closing in, with small splatters of raindrop hitting the tip of my nose and the top of my head. The thunder rumbled far overhead, closer than before. Whatever was inside the thing I was carrying felt off. It was heavy, but it didnât feel as if it was stuffed with things, just one thing. Large and lumpy.
âFortune didnât come to those who waited!â I was forced to hear the old cootâs ramblings as we traveled through the nearby forest, where a cave awaited us in the distance from what he told me.
âMy father made the name, Tonberryâs Lantern!â The owner declared with pride, going on without pause. âRaised in it myself! Wonât see it go down. Not like this! Not like this! No, no - weâll get it right back to fame and glory!â He patted the damned book again, as if it would solve all his life's woes. I tuned out most of the rest, annoyed at the weight on my back, but I couldnât help myself. Figured we were going to meet some big alley bigshot in the cave, do a trade, get some money, and maybe restart it all.
The moment I stepped foot inside that cave, I knew at once something was off. It was wrong. The very ground beneath my feet to the air I was breathing. My body urged me to stop, with the old man noticing it.
âGonna make me carry it all by myself? Fine, thatâs fine! Give it âere and you can go back and pick the âFRESHESTâ of rotten tomatoes for the crowd to throw at you next week!â
I glanced down at where the blue-haired woman had thrown her single tomato at me before leaving, recalling what I had done the previous year.
I forced myself to keep going, earning a nod of approval from the boss. Go to hell.
Deeper and deeper we went, where the faint dripping sound of water was heard. It was hard to see, with brief flashes of lightning from outside helping to light our way for a time. The old man pulled out a lantern and lit it, giving us the additional light we needed to see the rest of the way through.
âHere it is!â
I stopped after what felt like forever, tired and panting from the weight I was carrying as we had arrived deep within the cave. A large lake was before us, stretching deeper within the cave and into the dark abyss further within the lake. A rotten half broken pier was there, with a large wooden boat.
Didnât know if he had bought it himself or if it had always been there, but I was glad to be rid of my baggage the moment he told me to put it in the boat. The uneasy heavy weight of the case caused the boat to rock, before it became still after just a few moments.
âWhen I return, all our bad luck will be as good as gone!â He told me to stay here, which I didnât question why. As much as I disliked being in the cave, there was a stronger part of me that wanted to avoid traveling across the lake. Be it because the lake looked deep, I didnât know what was in it, or that it seemed to have the very faint touch of an eerie dark green glow to it.
Gripping a paddle in hand, he grunted and with me helping to kick the boat away, he was off - vanishing into the darkness ahead as he traveled across the lake. His lantern was left behind next to me, with a mere statement of âtoo much lightâ.
I waited by a rock, back against it. A part of me was tempted to leave the cave, but the crack of thunder and the howling wind outside made me decide to stay where I was. I felt itchy.
Reaching about, scratching at myself, I felt something on my back where the large case had rested while carrying it, and checked my fingers. In the dim light of the lantern I saw a smidge of red against my finger tips. Unsure, I held it close to the rotten tomato on the front of my shirt.
The red on my fingers looked more fresh than the dark rotten tomato remains on my shirt. Different too.
Brushing it off against the rock, I tried not to overthink it, resting as I waited for him to return. . .
I must have fallen asleep, as I felt something kick my boot, startling me awake.
âGit up, git up!â Iâm not sure how long I was out, but judging from the lack of wind howling and the faint thunder in the distance, it seemed it wasnât a short one. The boss had returned, but he wasnât alone.
She was dressed in a tattered dress, lacking any shoes, and a fair bit of dirt all about her. She was tall and beautiful, as were most viera, but she seemed to be much more than the norm. I could tell beneath the dirt and dress she was in good health; peach colored skin without a single scar or blemish to be seen. Curvy as well, which the dress did little to hide. Dark blue hair that went all the way down to her waist.
However, the moment she looked at me and smiled. . .it was all wrong. Perfectly set teeth, white in color, yet something was off. A faint alarm bell was heard in the back of my mind, but I was too dumb to heed its warning. She was charming and told me her name was âCafraâ, her pale yellow eyes looking into my own, as I heard the boss rambling again.
Claims of being a long last family member, who had agreed to join the âfamily businessâ and help it succeed again. One look between the two, and you could tell there was no way they were related. Must have been through some marriage or something, even if I had felt like I had met her before. I was too tired to think right.
It wasnât until we were out of the cave that I noticed the shovel and bag were missing, but I didnât care. Young, dumb, tired, and blinded by her beauty I felt an odd sense of hope we were going to bounce back.
Boy, let me tell you. Looking at the last year to the year after that was like night and day.
Within the first month of rebranding as just Tonberryâs Lantern without the circus and now focusing on stage play, people were already talking about the lead actress Cafra. How beautiful she was. She could dance. Sing. Her roles were without fail. Women and men alike were in awe of her, with a handful trying to run into her after the show and ask her out. She turned them all down, yet they left with a dumb struck grin on their face, sometimes a lipstick mark left on their cheek.
Month after month, the seats became more filled. Ticket prices went up, yet they kept coming. We got a better stage, better set pieces, outfits, and even able to swing by the big cities where we could perform inside the city limits, not on the outskirts.
There I was, once dressing up in some colorful clown outfit, to a more regal black and white jester outfit. I was the opening act to warm people up, then left as the real play started. I didnât interact with Cafra as much as the others, but boy did I have to talk about her a lot. The crowd loved hearing what her role was going to be, which she was doing it all. The damsel in distress, the hero, or even the villain depending on the tale.
They could give her a minor role, but the damned crowd would eat it up, applauding and wishing for her to do her lines again just for her to remain in the spotlight a little longer.
Yet, everything had a start, and I couldnât tell if it was the snide mutters of a woman in a crowd claiming Cafra padded her chest or if it was from the dumb town drunk who had somehow gotten a ticket and puked when Cafraâs que to appear on stage happen. Maybe it was the faint talks heard at the exits about how it was âalways the sameâ.
I was off to the side, watching Cafra perform in a shining suit of armor, after having just saved the princess, but something was different. It wasnât how she spoke, held herself, or even in her eyes. She seemed fine, but it was when she smiled that was the problem.
It felt a bit more cold.
Even though we were making it big, the other performers on stage had taken a dislike to Cafra. Some said something was off about her, but most chalked it up to being jealous. Many were, as she never missed a beat, even if someone else goofed, she was easily able to work it in and have the crowd chuckle, even if it cast the other performer in a bad light.
I heard some of the others were playing tricks on her, but only saw some.
One guy in charge of the curtains decided to be a smartass and close the curtain early on Cafra when she was taking a bow, the tips of her ears being met with the heavy red curtains before she was allowed to even stand back up.
Another had put on the knight outfit Cafra was supposed to wear, claiming there was a âsudden changeâ in roles, with bets being placed if Cafra even knew the lines of the others. She did, naturally, only causing the other actors to glare at her as she danced about in her dress without missing a step.
âCome on, ainât you tired of her? She ainât nuffin without us!â
I forgot who it was, but a few of them were trying to get me to get in on it. I didnât want anything to do with it. I was happy making my gil, but also felt things were being taken too far. Why mess this all up? I hadnât been around her nearly as much as the others, but something had caused a stir. The women were green with envy, while the men felt themselves outdone in every way.
No matter where you turned, people often turned the conversation to finding a way to trip Cafra up, be it a light joke or a serious talk.
I figured the boss man would put a stop to it, but he seemed lost in his cup and wealth. His beard was well kept, fancy new outfits and shoes. He spoke with some faint fake accent I ainât ever heard him use before now, and had just gotten a massive set piece ready. It was a massive wooden dragon that would be used on stage, with fire that breathed from its mouth from some odd contraption within. The eyes lit up as well when it roared, enhanced by a massive horn one of the stage hands screamed into.
The day before the big play, Cafra pulled me aside after we bumped into each other backstage. The curtain was in place, with the massive dragon behind us - most other things pushed to the back as they had run some tests earlier.
It was the first time we had ever been alone, despite working at the same place for the last three years. She was dressed in a rather wicked set of black and purple robes - the attire of the wicked witch who could turn into the dragon. Her long beautiful blue hair pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. I noticed a splotch of yellow paint on her shoulder, fresh, but before I could comment on it she spoke to me.
She told me to meet her after the show, where the dragon would be.
âI want to practice my lines. Better off trying them with someone thatâs never seen them, get good feedback!â Is what she claimed, while I looked at her dumbfounded. âTom had to call in, he was sick.â Tom was one of the Kingâs men in the play, whose role was the best friend of the knight that was going to slay the wicked witch. I hadnât seen him all day.
I guess I said yes to her, as she gave me a smile, less cold than the one I had seen on stage, but it bothered me all the same. Why? Why did it bother me so much?
She said something else, but I couldnât recall it as she turned to walk away. I felt my heart beating in my chest, as if I had just missed an arrow aimed at me. Like I had been in danger. I was getting the jitters, but I waved it off as stage fright. It happens now and then.
The night went on as planned. I warmed up the crowd. Got them fired up in their seats when I noted this was new. Daring. Larger than life! That night would be a show theyâd never forget.
If they did, I sure as the fuck didnât.
Something had gone wrong. I heard it backstage. A woman screaming in the crowd, some shouting. . .then. . .applause? The show went on, but something had happened.
I heard the roar of the âdragonâ and the ending musical note to the play. It was a smash hit. People were screaming at the top of their lungs over a den of clapping.
âEncore, encore!â They cried, with someone on stage telling them this would be a once-a-month special and tickets were limited. We had the next year booked in a heartbeat.
It wasnât until Cafra had already passed me, that I noticed something was wrong. She hurried by me without a word, with others staring after her with a hand placed against her stomach - as if she had grown a second head. The actors were talking in harsh whispers, with one of the knights gesturing with their spear. The tip of it had blood and I could tell it was not a prop.
âI STABBED her, I swear I did! Right in the gut!â The knight whispered to the others, but they didnât sound worried, rather. . .confused and mad? I left right after, sensing the mood was a dark one. Heard passing talk of the old man going off on the actors, a big bicker happened.
During all the drama, I almost forgot my promise to Cafra. It was well past the time, but I figured it was a good chance to ask what had gone on on stage. Still in my black and white jester outfit, hat included, I made my way into the theater, everything now dark as the lights had been turned off. I peered behind the curtain, but Cafra wasnât there, nor was the dragon. Everything was dark, and almost all the set pieces were gone.
âCafra?â I whispered, looking left and right - as if expecting her to appear from thin air.
It was then I heard a heavy muffled âsloshingâ side above me. Like a tankard full of ale that was moving from side to side with a half-barrel of liquid still inside it.
If I had one wish, aside from wishing I hadnât seen that damned flier, it was that I never went to the stage that night, nor that I looked up.
Two massive yellow âlightsâ peered down at me from the darkness, a soft glow to them. Then something briefly covered them, before I saw them again, only to realize they werenât lights, but eyes the size of a theater spotlight.
As if something had become aware of me noticing, I could at once see the outline of a giant woman crouching over the stage. It was hard to make out what they were wearing, but I didnât care about that. Whatever it was, it was looking at me. I couldnât make out its expression, but I saw their fingers were gripping one of the thick ropes we used for moving things up and down on stage.
It was attached to the ceiling, held between its fingers, with the other end of it inside its mouth. Their lips were closed around it, like when you saw someone mid slurping a string of spaghetti. For some reason, I briefly wonder why someone would ever want to eat some old rope.
Then something moved. Something inside her mouth against the cheek. It was dark, yet I could see the outline crystal clear for a split second.
It was someoneâs hand pressing against the thingâs cheek from within its mouth. The rope jerked slightly, as if something was wiggling on the other end of it. My blood ran cold and I froze, as I swore I could hear a muffled scream.
The giant thing looked down at me, as if considering something. Then, it started to tug on the rope, slowly bringing it out of its mouth. The parts that were inside its mouth were glistening, as if it had been suckling on the rope for a while now. Couldnât tell if it was spit or slime coating it, but I didnât care once I saw what was on the other end of the rope.
It was a person. A coworker. One of the actresses that played the part of a maiden type or villagers, who had one time thrown on the princess outfit and told Cafra there had been a last second change, and that she would be playing the âstar roleâ tonight. The rope was tied around her waist, preventing her from falling as she hung somewhat limply in the air.
Her dress was in tatters, soaked with saliva and a bunch of cuts all over. Too dark to make out the finer details, but I honestly didnât wanna see. They were breathing, a slow trembling breath heard, as if they were too scared to make noise.
I started trembling. Like a fucking leaf in the wind. Twelve above, I was scared. More scared than I had ever been in my life. I looked down at my own hands, shaking without any hope of steeling myself. My hat must've fallen off, as I saw it on the ground nearby. The area became darker, as I heard something heavy above me, as the giant thing shifted.
I peeked up, saw a hand slowly reaching for me, and squeezed my eyes shut. Too frightened to move. I felt cold. Alone.
The fingers were so close to me, I could feel the warmth radiating from them. That single hand could easily snatch me up, no problem. I somehow knew if I ran, it could catch me without even trying.
Then, I felt something push down on my head, and heard the soft jingle of bells. The bells from my hat.
Dumbfounded, it dawned on me what it had done and looked up. That dumb hat was back on my head, as I saw its fingers pulling away from me. They gave a slight wiggle, as if bidding me farewell. Then I saw its eyes move, as the thing glanced from me to the woman on the end of the rope. Back to me. Staring down at me. What it did next chilled me to the bone, and I realized what I was looking at.
Cafra smiled down at me.
It wasnât in the eyes, the movement, or the way they talked. It was that damned smile. Just a touch too clean. A tad bit wider than how a person should smile. It didnât look unnatural, but I was too aware of it. That same alarm bell I heard in the back of my head back at the cave was ringing again. I knew I couldnât outrun Cafra if I tried, yet it wasnât doing anything to me.
I stared back at it as it smiled, wishing to look away, but felt if I did something wicked would happen to me. Some sense of it not being allowed at the moment. In the back of my head, I noticed there was a very thin trail of saliva connecting its lower lip to the actress on the rope. The smile didnât break it.
Then, those glowing yellow eyes slowly looking off to the side, with my own gaze following it. The exit. It wasnât the curtain I had snuck around to get on stage, but the proper stage exit where all staff were told to go through once the show was over.
Those eyes slowly returned their focus to me, with me staring back.
I found myself able to move, be it out of fear of wanting to escape or maybe I just wanted something to change at long last.
I took a step. Cafra kept smiling.
I took another. Then another. Another. I kept moving, staring back at its smile. The giantâs head tilted to the side in the darkness, a few strands of hair covering its eyes. Like a creature peeking out at something it found amusing from behind the tall grass. I kept going and going, until I at last willed myself to look away right as I reached the exit. I walked out and felt as if the overwhelming pressure was gone, but it lingered nearby. Threatening to engulf me in it at any given moment.
I wasnât sure when I made it back to my room. I didnât bump into anyone as it was late. Didnât want to. I felt as if some primal desire was at play, my feet leading me back to where it was safe. Under the covers of my bed. I didnât change out of my clothes, but I pulled the covers over me after locking my door.
I was in and out of it. It felt like hours. Restless and wondering if I was even experiencing the moments.
Iâm not sure when or how long, but I had fallen asleep only to be awoken by three thick thumps against my door. I could hear birds chirping outside. It was morning. I felt lost. Confused for a moment. Another three solid thumps after a few moments was enough to get me out of bed, still dressed in my jester outfit.
When I opened the door, it was the actress. The one I had seen in the princess outfit, but she looked fine and was wearing her normal attire whenever she had a day off.
She smiled.
Everything came rushing back to me the moment I saw that smile and I felt like I was underwater when it next spoke. Telling me she wanted to say goodbye to her coworkers before leaving. I was pretending everything was alright, that it was her. It said her and Cafra had made up and had got to talking the night before. Big plans. Was going to hit the road and write us post cards. Saved up some gil over the years, thinking about it on and off.
I smiled and laughed whenever it did, as if we were in a play. I knew what needed to be said, what joke belonged where, and it enjoyed it. With a few parting words I canât even recall, it turned and waved with a pearly white smile as I waved in return.
The moment it looked away I closed my door and felt my heart thumping against my chest. I was young and dumb, but not quite as young and dumb as I used to be. I missed it. I wish I could go back and be that person again before last night.
Later on at lunch, the others were talking about how they were going to miss her. Two people said they overheard Cafra and her talking in a room, as they had âmade upâ as it were.
I didnât have the heart nor the proof to say otherwise. I sometimes caught Cafra giving me a glance, but as if it was allowing me to notice it. I didnât say a word.
Over the next few years, I kept my distance. It went back to how it used to be, but now I felt like I was pretending to be someone pretending to be another person. I was acting whenever I got up on stage, not like before where I enjoyed it. Thinking of something to really make the crowd laugh, but now I seem to do it with such ease, I had them eating out of the palm of my hand.
I didnât feel a single thing from it after that night.
Over time, I got older. I avoided it. Not a word spoken about that night. Even when I checked the mail every week when it arrived, I didnât once see a postcard from her. Now I am just old. No longer young and dumb, yet I still checked. I couldnât tell what felt like part of the act and what was part of the real me. The person who wanted to run away, but wasnât allowed to. Too scared to go until I saw a postcard. Just a single one.
Then, when checking the mail I saw it.
It was addressed to me, but that was it. Just my name and the address of the theater. It was a blank postcard, but there was an image of a beach imprinted on it. A resort many people my age always talked about going to.
It was time to leave.
The old man, the boss, was older. So much so he couldnât make the choices on his own anymore. Cafra helped with that, all the while having not aged a day. People thought it was make-up. Magic. I knew better.
Because of that I had avoided the boss, but I knew when I knocked on the door and heard its voice I wasnât seeking his permission to leave.
It was Cafra sitting behind the desk, a tailored custom tailcoat; black suit with rolled up sleeves, a black button vest and a dark blue tie. I took a seat before it, staring it in the eye as it gave me a simple smile - not showing its teeth.
One last act, that I knew I couldnât slip up.
It asked me about my day. I made a joke, and got a laugh in response. Steady.
It asked me about who I thought was up and coming, which I noted Cafra of course as a joke.
The smile got smaller. I needed to reel it in on the jokes.
I gave my honest thoughts. Names that I didnât connect with flowing from my mouth, while it gave me a serious look, nodding and treating my words as if they had weight to them. Then the topic switched to my act, with me noting a pair of twins that would be perfect to replace me with. They had worked on stage the last couple of years and knew how my act went.
It gave an approving nod in agreement at that, while I noted I felt it might be time for me to step down. Made another joke after waiting long enough, saying I wanted to relax on the beach and watch the grandkids I didnât have play some silly game there.
Almost there.
For the first time in years, I felt like I was close to breaking the surface and not feeling as if I was under water. Hiding myself away. I got too eager.
Standing up from its chair, Cafra turned towards the window with the curtains open, daylight pouring in and held its back to me. Hands behind its back, loosely gripping its own wrist. Every word was crystal clear for a moment.
âI must say, you are quite the shrewd fellow! Having yourself a little family without the others knowing? Theyâd be shocked I bet!â It said in a happy, but amused manner, as if what I just said was something they felt âfitâ the story best. âWho would have thought it. . .â
I was so close that I stumbled near the end.
âWell, you know, everyone needs to have their secrets!â
If someone had dropped a pen in the next room, I would have heard it clear as day with how silent the room I was in became.
It didnât move, still facing away, but I could sense it. A looming sense of dread. A hand reached out and closed the curtain to the window, causing the room to become darker.
âYes. . .everyone must have their secret.â
As it started to turn towards me, I got up to leave. I didnât have its permission.
I heard something like a tree branch snapping, but I didnât look back as I tried to simply walk away.
Three more snaps, with the sound of a wet paper bag being torn in half. It exhaled as if it was taking something off it had worn for far too long.
I hurried towards the door.
There was a heavy thump as I heard something jump over the desk and skitter towards me. My heart leapt into my throat as I broke out in a run towards the door that seemed so far away on the other side of the room. Eight rapid thumping sounds against the wooden floor were heard. I reached out, grabbed the door knob.
I could feel its hot breath against the back of my neck.
I turned the knob, opened the door, jerked myself forward, and slammed the door behind me. Only it didnât close fully as something prevented it from closing. I was leaning against it, with only the sound of my heart threatening to explode from inside my best to the heavy breathing emitting from me.
âYou dropped this.â
A white gloved hand was peeking from around the slightly closed door, fingers gently pinching the postcard I had dropped. I saw what was connected to the hand, but didnât want to notice it. Didnât want to focus on the tone or what it sounded like behind the door. A thick oak door that felt as thin as paper at that moment.
âThank you.â Despite how calm I sounded, I felt as if I was about to faint from how out of breath I was. I took the postcard with care and gave a nod, with the glove hand and whatever it was attached to, and retreated behind the door.
The door closed and I was free.
I packed my things, now that I was allowed to. Made sure to take only what I needed. I didnât run into anyone else. I knew it would want to do that for me once I left and enjoy prancing about as me.
I wanted no part in it.
Took a seat in the carriage I had paid for once I was outside the theater, and didnât once look back to see anything. I knew without looking it was peering outside the window at me, as I heard the soft chirps of the chocobos and old wheels turning as I left the place I had worked at most of my life.
As much as I wish I could say I left it all behind on that damned day, I knew that wasnât the case. What I saw that night. In the cave. On stage. What that gloved hand was connected to.
On the floor of the carriage was a mud splattered flier.
âTonberryâs Lanternâ was the only thing I could make out through the mud.
I did my best to think of the warm beach sands ahead, knowing it was no use feeling pity for those left behind.