Sort of Deadly

33 - A Whole Lotta Reallys

Marra's POV:

I really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

really

REALLY

REAAAAALLLY

wish Uncle were here right now.

This is way scarier without him.
Trees spirits (dryads, I believe they’re called) are calling out to us. At least I think so. Whenever we – we being Aar, Niffy, Es and me – move too close to the trees, a mad screeching fills our ears. Like the kind matching radio frequencies make.

Ah, who listens to the radio these days?

Then again, I have no idea how much into the future this text will reach (if by some miracle we manage to survive), or if it will ever reach anyone except you or not, soooo . . . if you guys have a time machine or something, please send me a postcard from the future. It’ll feel nice.

Will postcards still be a thing then, I wonder? Will books still be a thing then?

Will humans still be there?

Not if Ravenna has her way, I’m sure.

What am I even saying?

Never you mind. I think I’m going crazy. Any minute now I’m worried I’ll blast into maniacal clown-prince-of-crime laughter.

Come on, you can’t blame me! This is too much burden for a twelve – oops, I mean thirteen year old to handle.

Yes, I still haven’t gotten used to being thirteen. Biggie. Give me a break, it’s only been like a day . . .

. . . or has it?

Sorry, I don’t know what it is with my brain playing with abstract concepts of time. I just wanted to sound deep and mysterious, forgive me.

I don’t think it’s working.

‘Turn over a new leaf, Mr. Brain.’

‘You okay, Marruko?’

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder. I whirl, to face a humming Es. I mean, the darkness is kind of obscuring her face.  It’s so dark, in fact, that we could straight up walk into the lake if it were a feet from us and never notice it. (Wonder how it will be in Lakoswanion, where there’s not even a sun, if you recall.) But although Es is not a spirit anymore . . . she always seems to glow to me.

And it’s been like a year since her transformation, but I’m never getting over the fact that I can actually touch her now. It’s just . . . unexplainable, the tingle in my tummy every time we make contact.

I wonder if Es feels the tummy-tingle too.

‘Is everyphink fine?’ She squeezes my shoulder, even as we keep walking.

‘Erm, yeah. Totally. Just talking to myself, you know.’

Es giggles. ‘I know what you mean, I know everyphink.’

I wince. ‘How many times have I told you, Es? It’s everything, not everyphink. Where do you keep getting these weird new obsessions?’

‘From my bwain, duh.’

‘Bwain? What’s this disease now?’

‘It’s not a disease, Marco-polo! If you had a bwain yourself, you’d know.’

I think she means to fly away here for dramatic effect, but unfortunately she can’t do that. So it’s looking kind of ridiculous here, watching her feet intertwine and tangle like a bunch of brambles unto themselves as she tries to hover off.

My feet, on the other hand, are super whiny. They say they want to be back at Uncle’s mansion, on the couch, playing videogames or something.

I don’t think anyone else’s feet talk like that. My feet are peculiar.

I guess I can work on some poetry. After all, all we’re doing is walking, right? Shut up, Feet! Get more creative, Mr. Bwain! I mean – Brain! I mean –

‘Hang on,' says Aar from somewhere behind me.

‘Yeah, what is it?’ I ask irritably. ‘If you ask me whether I’ve brought any energy drinks with me one more time, I will bash your face in with a sledgehammer.’

See? (Not the dog.) I’m going Jack Torrance mad.

‘No, Niffy is trying to say something,' Aar tells me. ‘Aren’t you, Niffy?’

I stop and turn, as does Es. Where the dark contour of Niffy is standing, I can see some rigorous moment. A nod. Once. Affirmative yes.

‘What’re you trying to say, Niffy?’ I question. I must say, she’s taking this magical visit pretty well. When we first came here, we were all pretty much freaking out. ‘Uh, can you, I don’t know, draw patterns on Aar’s face?’

‘No, my face, my face!’ Es volunteers.

I repress a smile. ‘And if it’s some stupid question about why these plants are shiny or what – what that clicking sound is, then you better keep it in your pocket, because Bee – '

‘No.’ Aar’s tone is pretty serious. ‘I think she hears something. You know, she can’t speak, but her ears are like mini radars. You won’t believe how sharp.’

I shrug. ‘Yes, I would. Until only a year ago, I could come back to life if you fed me to a shark, or have you forgotten? Moreover, I could smell blood for miles. If someone was bleeding in the – '

Even in the darkness I can feel Aar’s glare.

‘Sorry,' I mutter.

‘Spill it, Niffy,' says he, ignoring me. ‘What is it?’ Just try to tell me.’

There is silence for a few seconds. Then Es resumes her chant of ‘My face! My face! My face!’ I don’t think she needs any context or reason to be cheery.

Niffy shuffles ahead quietly. I feel her dark figure brush past me. Then there is a splashing noise.

‘N-Niffy?’ I call out. ‘All cool?’

No reply.

‘My face! My face! My – !’ I put a hand over Es’s mouth.

No reply.

‘Don’t mess with us, Niffy!’ shouts Aar. I can distinctly hear the anxiety in his voice. ‘If you see or hear something, just stamp your foot!’

This time there is a reply. In the form of a huge, murky wave which basically looks like a misshapen giant in the pressing darkness.

The wave rises high and eats us up. And now we’re drowning in the lake.

Sure, this might as well happen.

Hi. Sorry if this isn't up to the mark, or if I don't update awhile.

Thanks for sticking with me ❤️