Let Freedom Ring

Crusted, pink pie stains are dribbled down the front of my shirt. My bare hands are sticky with residue. My skin is exposed to the germs flying around the smoggy morning.

I can't believe this! What has HAPPENED?

I feel the dirt in the wind, settling on my skin; the rough, dirty sidewalk under my naked feet. I smell the exhaust from the whistling bus, feel it breathe on my face. My whole body is exposed to the contaminated, grimy air, the unhygienic and polluted city.

I have never been happier.

A weight of dread has been lifted, and I feel a bubble of joy burst from my mouth, erupting into laughter that spills into the city. I start to run, leap, skip towards the dried up fountain, and as I pass, it gurgles once and water starts pumping from the spout, the sound echoing through the city, dancing with the sound of my laughter. I let my hands run through the rusty water, and I splash some water on myself, rejoicing in the beauty of the elements.

I keep running, moving towards the fresh corpse of a young woman. Her assorted limbs are twisted in an angelic spiral, and her face holds a small, knowing smile. I lean down and hug this innocent godsend, pouring my happiness into her wandering soul. I continue on my way, rushing into Watershed Heights, and soaring up the stairs. I grab the wonderfully sticky handle to the roof-top garden and swing it open, feeling the freedom of the day.

I see a mysterious man with a child-like face sitting in the midst of bumblebees in sitting lotus position. His poise is simple, yet refined, and I feel the urgency to kiss his smooth, balding head. I sweep across the garden, letting my toes sink into the soil, the flowers tickle my legs, and grace him with a soft, gentle kiss. He does not stir, but the bumblebees floating around him sing out a song that mirrors my bliss.

I let out another bubble of laughter, and feel the Heavens smile at me. The voice of Madame Mystic rings through the air: Phoebe. You're free.

Sweet Surprises

"Try this, sugar. You'll feel better in no time."

No more food. Please.

The smell hits me before I can voice my rejection. The smell of strawberry-banana pie dances under my nostrils. My mouth waters. It's a familiar scent, and I remember I smelt it when I first walked in the diner, but this scent is no longer intoxicating. It's delicious, sweet and fresh.

I look around for the source of this succulent aroma. In the dim light, I see the plump kitchen man caring out a thick slice, melted strawberry sauce seeping from the cracks in the homemade, crisp-brown pie crust. Without a second thought, I grab the pie from him, dig my fingers through the warm, crisp crust, and scoop out a glob, my fingers covered in the syrupy sweet pie innards.

I stuff the sweet, gooey goodness into my mouth, so different from the deadly potatoes. My teeth sink into the crumbly crust and the soft, moist bananas. I grab for more pie, my hands grabbing as much as they can. The smell is overwhelming. My tastes buds are shouting with desire, crying for more.

Beside me a man gets up and walks away from the delicious pie. Is he crazy? I laugh at the madness of his thoughts as I scream, "MORE PIE!"

A Buttery Splat

The words of Madame Mystic echo in my head:

My dear, you must go to Deena's 28 Hour Diner on this upcoming Wednesday evening. I see it in your palm that something... important is going to happen. Go, my dear, and feel the power of the Evil Eye.

I take three breaths, lift my gloved-covered hand, and BLAT! Suddenly my feet are swept from under me, and I hit the germ-invested sidewalk with a smack. Through bleary eyes, I am able to make out the silver-green scales of a tail. My vision goes in and out of focus as I feel smooth arms lift me off the ground. I hear the door whoosh open, the smell of buttery mashed-potatoes and intoxicatingly sweet strawberry-banana pie fills my nose, and I am placed gently on a smooth, red booth.

My vision clears. I feel woozy. In front of me is a plate of steaming, watery mashed potatoes, oozing with butter.

"It's on the house, sugar!" yells a plump, middle-aged man from the kitchen. "That damn merman knocked you down, so you need to get some energy back in ya!"

I look down at the plate of potatoes, and I noticed the Evil Eye emblem is written on the plate. My heart jumps, and I suddenly remember Madame Mystic's prophecy. I grab my fork from inside my purse, unwrap the protective plastic, submerge it into the mashed potatoes, and take a bite.

The potatoes disperse in my mouth, making me gag on the deathly amount of butter that soaks my esophagus. I force myself to swallow, feeling the thick goo slide slowly down. I gasp for air, and call out for some water. A glass is shoved to my table, and I throw back as much water as possible, letting the cool liquid wash away the residue of the potatoes.

I close my eyes and take another forkful. Phoebe, keep eating. The plate has the Evil Eye. Just three bites. I open my eyes and look at the potatoes dribbling onto my plate from my fork. I cringe as I shove the second bite into my mouth. Before I swallow, I scoop another forkful and shove that in, too. I try and swallow. Half the potatoes go down, I choke, and buttery, thick potato mush comes shooting out my mouth, hitting the back of the man in front of me.

He whips around, and his tail whips, too. There's a flash of silver-green as his tail swats my face, and then blackness.

Ash-Covered Morning

I'm sore. My body aches. I struggle to open my eyes, and clumsily get to my feet. Where am I? The smell of burning metal and wood wafts into my nose, and with horror, I remember the fire. I look down to examine my body. My clothes are ripped! My jewelry is gone! And where are my rubber gloves?

I see a man bathed in soot. I open my mouth to cry for help, but my mouth is dry and caked with ash. I slowly stumble over to where he's lying, and collapse on his shoulder.

"Help me..." I manage to croak feebly.

The man pushes me off and mutter something about trash bags as he drags himself away from me. What is happening? Where am I? I need Madame Mystic!

I collect my whits and think about what I need most: a bath, sanitizer, bleach, and a long therapy session with Madame Mysitc. I need to get back to my room at the Heights. Gathering as much energy as I can muster, I walk as quickly as I can, ignoring the aches and bruises on my body. So many germs! I count each step and make sure not to touch anything as I walk, not even myself. I cannot afford to get any dirtier.

I see Watershed Heights! I'm almost home! I wait thirty-three seconds before propelling forward toward the refreshingly cool lobby of my pathetic excuse for a home. I reach the front door and... Oh dear! I can't open the door! I refuse to place my bare hands on the germ-infested, sticky, never-been-cleaned door handle. I stand outside, waiting desperately for someone to show up to open the door for me.

I see two men dressed in robbery-gear carrying an ATM machine sprint to the alley behind Foo Food, the vile restaurant the sells non-descript food. Maybe they'll open the door for me! I give a quick prayer to the Heavens, and, after spitting as much soot out of my mouth as I can, I give a quick yelp for help. One of the robbers turns around, sees my desperate situation, and comes to my rescue.

"May I get the door for you, ma'am?"

I smile, nod, and graciously step through the door, held open by a hero disguised as a villian.

Fire and Witchcraft

Panic spreads through my body. Where is my jewelry? What am I to do? Next to me, I see a promiscuous looking woman flirting with a man dressed as a clown. Why is she not worried about the loss of my jewelry? My body is shaking as I frantically look about for my missing Evil Eye Collection. This a terrible omen.

Suddenly, the food trailer to my left falls, and a fire is ignited. My heart is thumping, and my breathing becomes labored. The witch with the red hair knocked me down, tore my glove, and lost my powerful Evil Eye necklaces, and now there is a fire! The Heavens are sending me a message!

I must get home. Where is the exit? I look around, scanning the carnival for signs of an exit, but the smoke is snaking out of the burning food trailer and is impairing my vision. The smoke engulfs me, and I am losing oxygen. I feel faint and dizzy. I NEED TO GET OUT!

A False Impression

What is that sound? I rub my eyes and sit up in my bed, listening intently to the sound that woke me. Birds! There are birds chirping outside! Everyone knows chirping birds in the midst of winter is a sign of good luck! I throw off my comforter, pull on a plastic glove, and peel back the sticky blinds from my painted-shut window. Sunlight streams in and dances around my room.

I think the Heavens are telling me to go outside today. What else could the delightful birds mean? I have been given a sign to explore the world today, but I must wait for three hours and thirty three minutes before I can leave my apartment. The time is 3:33. I pull out my bleach and begin to scrub the floors until I can leave.

At 7:06, I pull on my elbow-length rubber gloves, my surgical mask, and my pressed and cleaned outfit I have picked out for the day. I carefully position my Evil Eye necklaces before I take a deep breath and head down to the lobby.

I swing open the lobby door into the refreshingly warm, spring-like day, and I am instantly bombarded by a cacophony of soundtracks blasting throughout the neighborhood. I grab my Evil Eye jewelry, and I feel the urge to follow the noise.

I quickly make my way to a rundown carnival in a part of the neighborhood I have never seen before. What is going on here? I shudder as I move forward into the crowd, cringing away from the people, and I suddenly realize I have entered the carnival. A woman with flaming red hair pushes past me, running towards to microphone standing a few feet away from the fun house. She knocks me off balance, and I fall to the ground, ripping a hole in my right rubber glove. I jump to my feet and take thirty three steps away from the area. I can feel the germs crawling on me.

I need to get out of here. I look desperately for an exit, feeling the heat of the crowd pressing in on me. I clutch for my jewelry, and with a jolt of fear, I realize my Evil Eye collection is missing!

Madame Mystic's Advice

I stare out the window at the fluttering snow flurries. I can't believe today was the day my psychic was telling me about. The snow is mixing with the dirt on the ground and creating a disgusting, brown slush that coated all of Watershed Heights. I can sense no good energy from this day, but who was I to doubt Madame Mystic? If my psychic tells me I should venture out today, then venture I shall.

I slowly tug on my elbow-length rubber gloves and carefully position my surgical mask, placing the extras in the pocket of my long, yellow parka. I stuff my thickly-padded feet (three pairs of socks, of course) into my faded pink rain boots. I take a long look in the mirror, and realize I'm missing my most essential accessories: my collection of Evil Eye jewelry. Thank God I realized; I just saved myself from a whole lot of panic.

I take a deep breath and push open the door, hearing the rusty hinges squeak from their lack of use. Anxiety washes over me as I step over the threshold. I hear someone crying in the room next door: an omen. I clutch my Evil Eye necklace, feeling its power rush through me. I can do this.

I hold my breath as I take the evelator down to the lobby and weave my way to the door. I am careful not to touch anything. Outside it is still snowing, blanketing Watershed Heights. I shudder. Madame Mystic says today is important. Phoebe, go outside.

I cringe as I place my protected hand on the doorknob and swing the door open, feeling the rush of dirt and wind hit me in the face. I am only responsible for staying outside for thirty three minutes. Then I can go inside to the safety of my apartment. I step outside, walk thirty three steps away from the building. I wait.

I look around the building, searching for the magical moment Madame Mystic promised me. I look down, around, and behind, making sure I don't move from my spot. Finally, I hear something.

"Oy!"

I look up to see a mysterious looking man peering at me from his window. His hair is scruffy, and I see evidence of a five-o-clock shadow forming on his child-like face. A small smiled creeps onto my face. His gaze does not waver, and a chill shoots through me, forcing me to catch my breath. Then, the man abruptly shuts the window. I waste no time, and I scurry inside to call Madame Msytic. Who was that?