one with her hands


open


"Don't Be afraid" she said


"No one will know it -


just you and me"


And when it's over


I'll go back
 

-The Pool by Tori Amos





	Sitting in the middle of a poppy field wearing a bunny costume does nothing for

your ego, but still.... Narcolepsy had the ears on, and the cute fuzzy tail, and there were

no hot guys around to see her, so she really didn't mind that terribly. Only the flowers

looked and they didn't express their opinions loud enough for her to hear. 

	"Like your hat. The ears give it a special touch." She heard a voice say. She

looked behind her to see a pale girl wearing a nifty black tank top and worn jeans. Narc

had worn an outfit just like that a few weeks ago, before the shirt got torn by a nasty little

thorn bush she hadn't seen while wandering in the woods. She realized the girl was still

waiting for a response. 

	"I don't. I don't like it, that is. I really don't have a clue as to why I'm wearing it

in the first place."

	The girl in the nifty black tank top smiled, and made herself comfortable on a bed

of pink and blue poppies. Her hair was solid black, and puffed out behind her in an 80's

style hair cut that Narc wouldn't be caught dead wearing. On the girl, however, it looked

pretty good. Besides the black tank top and jeans, the stranger wore a necklace with the

shape of an ankh on it. 

	"Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?" the girl inquired, plucking a flower up

from beside her. "I love that movie. Remember when Dorothy crosses the field of

poppies and falls fast asleep? I would always fast forward past that part, because it

always made me so mad that I knew what was going to happen and couldn't do anything

about it." 

	Narcolepsy smiled. The Wizard of Oz had been her favorite movie, book, and

bed sheet set when she had been a little girl. "I know what you mean. My parents would

always be ready to kill me whenever I yelled out advice to the screen. I don't do it in

theaters anymore, but at home...." She giggled. "I'd die of embarrassment if I ever was

caught doing that now-a-days. I wouldn't just say it. I would scream it at them! Mom

says that she used to have to drag me out of The Silver Screen, that was the old theater,

right in the middle of a show just to avoid the embarrassment of being seen with me." 

Narc grabbed her hair and pulled it back into a pony-tail. "God, I feel like a playboy

playmate, or something."

	"Are you?" The pale chick asked, plucking off the petals one at a time with her

perfectly manicured fingernails. Narc couldn't hear her, but she was absolutely certain

that the girl was saying the 'loves me not' rhyme under her breath. Narc snorted. 

	"God, no! I work at Wendy's!"

	The girl plucked the final petal from the stem. "He loves me!"

	"Oh la la! True love at last!" She practically sang with a near incomprehensible

French accent. Narc spread her arms out, then began to opera sing the song from

Anastasia. 

	"Paris holds the key to l'amore...." She faltered, realized that she had not only

gone too far, but had lost all proof of sanity as well. "Um..." She faltered, ready for the

girl to reject her company, humiliate her, or at the very least raise an eyebrow. Instead,

she laughed and jumped up. "...And not even Freud knows the cure!" 

	Narc couldn't believe it. Here she was in a field of poppies in a bunny costume,

singing songs from a cartoon movie. This was too weird. Even for her.

	She sat down and stared at the sky. It was a dull blue, with lots of clouds. She

couldn't find any sun at all. She spotted a ducky and a pair of sun glasses in the sky

while the girl finished up the last of the song. 

	"...Paris holds the key to her heart!" The Goth chick clutched at her heart for

dramatic effect, then without looked fell down flat on her back. 

	Narcolepsy jumped up and raced over to her. This was one weird ass scenario

and she damn well wasn't going to get through it on her own! She quickly kneeled down

next to her only to discovered that the girl was alive and well, and to top it off, was

smiling. 

	"I'm all right, if that's what you're worried about. I suppose you want to know

what's going on." Narcolepsy couldn't remember when she had ever nodded so

enthusiastically. "Well, you're in the Sunless Lands."

	

			*		*		*

	"You're saying that I'm dead."

	Her voice was flat, and Death had heard it many times before. She walked over

to where Narc was sitting, her arms wrapped around her ankles and stared down at her,

thinking. Narc didn't even look up. 

	She frowned a little bit, then sat down next to her, not saying anything. She

usually wasn't this wild around mortals. Death blamed it on the poppies. 

	Narc was a fairly lovely girl. She had creamy skin and green eyes, that seemed as

if they should be contacts, but Death knew that they weren't. Narc was incredibly proud

of her complexion, and would often brush her brown/blonde hair into a pony-tail just so

people would pay attention to her face. Narcolepsy had never worried that this would

seem stuck-up; She just wasn't the type of girl people would think of as egotistical. She

was simply proud. 

	Death smiled, one hand casually playing with the ankh necklace she had worn for

more years than she cared to number. "You aren't dead. You're simply visiting my

realm. If you were dead, you would have at least some memory of how you got, oh how

do you put it, 'offed'."

	Narc looked at her, confused. "So, why am I here?"

	Death picked up a flower, sniffed, then smiled. "Because I need a augur."

	"..And what exactly is an augur?" she asked, one eyebrow attempting to be raised,

but only managing to twitch a lot. The poor girl was clearly upset at this, but doing her

best not to look bothered in the slightest. 

	"A prophet."

	Narcolepsy groaned, shaking her head in consternation. She spoke clearly, and

ended each word with a quick puff of breath. 

"I'm-sorry-but-I-can't-believe-that-is-true-so-you-must-be-wrong." The sweet thing was

shivering, causing the bunny ears to shake slightly. Death sighed. She hated when

people used denial as a...a rabbit hole or something. Something to hide in when the

slightest hint of danger approached. 

	Narcolepsy stopped shivering and looked up, once again trying her best to stay

under control. "Okay, I believe this is real. Rather screwed up, insane, and amazingly

weird-shitted, but still, not a dream." One of the ears flopped down onto her face. Narc

glanced up, flicked it out of the way, and then with a second thought ripped the headband

out of her hair and into a mess of poppies. "But answer me one little question, okay? 

Why me?"

	"Because you have the ability to accept things, and are strong enough to bear with

it. Also, because your grandmother was persistent enough to murder my little brother. 

Or, at least, part of him." 

	Narc got up, pulling off the puffy, cotton tail on her jean shorts, leaving only the

painted on whiskers and the pink colored nose to give any hint that she had been dressed

oddly before. "My grandmother killed your brother? Granny Lyta? I can't believe it. 

Even if she did, what does that have to do with me? I mean, if she killed your brother

wouldn't that make you a wee bit angry at my family?" 

	Death shook her head. "Anger's got nothing to do with it. She killed part of a

Dream, true. But she had also gained the protection of my brother. That protection

passed down from daughter to grand-daughter. So as long as you live, nothing shall harm

you save the natural causes."

	"Okay, I can believe that. It's hard, since your brother was supposedly dead at the

time he granted Granny his protection, but okay. If I try, I can accept that. But I have

another thing to ask you. A question. A real hard one."

	Death shrugged. "Shoot."

	"What in the world am I doing here in a bunny costume?"

	Death chuckled and gave Narc a small grin. "At your age it should be fairly

obvious by now. You do watch the news, don't you?" Narc looked puzzled, and nodded

uncertainly. "Death, sweet-heart, has a sense of humor."

	

				*		*		*	

	Narc woke up in her pajamas. Her hair was tousled and her mouth felt like a

member of the reptilian family had crawled down, farted, then died. The window to her

room was shut, but she still felt chilled to the bone. Freezing. She got up, stopped, then

groaned. It seemed that not one but two of her legs had decided to fall asleep. She

wouldn't be able to walk for at least a few minutes, yet. 

	Narcolepsy fell back down onto her bed, looking out of the skylight into the star

lit blackness. The moon was full that night, and cast shadows and silver into her room;

an eerie world filled with shapes and silhouettes of things unknown. Another world.... 

	The field where she had conversed with the stranger hadn't felt like a dream. 

Narc could remember dreams she'd had since the age of five, and she knew exactly what

they felt like. They were made of the feelings you get when you're spinning around or

when you're falling. A confused, not-stable sort of thing. 

	The world where she'd been that night, however, had been consistent. It hadn't

made a whole lot of sense, but it was most definitely not a dream. 

	Her legs were all pins and needles now. She rubbed at them, irritably, wondering

at the moon. It was a perfect circle in the sky, with ghost gray clouds resting peacefully

in the dark. 

	'The rays of the moon are female, her mind whispered distractedly, But the moon

itself is male. People just think that it's female because they want a solid gender.' 

	Narcolepsy sat upright. Where had that came from? It didn't make any sense. 

Well, at least less sense then the things she thought usually made. 

	Narc settled back down again, resting her head against her pillow. The gray

clouds were edging themselves slowly towards the moon. In a minute or so they'd cover

it up completely. 

	'Not 'it'. Him.'

	Narc jumped. That was definitely not normal. Her thoughts did not sound like

that. 

	Narc buried her face in her hands. "Oh shit. I'm going insane." She moaned

quietly. Outside her window, a screech owl called out to it's mate. Narc watched as the

flying shape of the bird flew into the old oak tree in her front yard.

	'The owls will breed tonight. Successfully. The female will give birth, only to die

week later. A hunter's target for idle practice in the woods behind your house. The

chicks will grow to live in the hollow oak tree, though. They shall roost there until the

oak is hacked down, many years past this lifetime.' 

	"Who's there?" She whispered to the empty room, the moon light shadows

swimming before her eyes. The voice inside her head was like soft kisses. Not

unpleasant to hear, exactly. Just unwanted. 

	'I'm nowhere. Nowhere you can reach me now. I'm in the Sunless Lands.'

	She shivered uncontrollably at the flow of recent memories those words released. 

The eyes of the stranger woman in the not-quite-a-dream stayed in her head. Those

where eyes you could sink into. Eyes in which you could fall inside and be lost forever. 

	"Why are you here?"

	'Look at your left arm.'

	What kind of an answer was that? Narc frowned in annoyance, glancing around

to make sure that her little brother wasn't playing a trick or something on her. A very

elaborate trick. A very elaborate, original, plain impossible trick. Narc sighed and

walked carefully on her still slightly numb legs over to her dresser, and glanced at her left

appendage. 

	On the very top of her arm, just a few inches below where shoulder ended and her

forelimb began, was a small, tattooed ankh. Not tattooed, exactly. More like embossed. 

Or maybe branded. Despite the various unlikely means with which it had been applied, it

was most definitely there. 

	The voice inside her head whispered: 'The dream wasn't a dream. You were in

the Sunless Lands.'

	"Oh? So then what now? Huh? What am I supposed to prophesies? When

screech owls are supposed to die?"

	'When it is necessary, you will speak up. Of your own free will or no.'

	Narc stared at herself in the mirror. "Then make me speak up! I refuse to say

anything from now on about screech owls or moon transvestites or anything!" Narc

crossed her arms and sat down rudely on her desk chair, glaring a challenge at herself

into the mirror, her mouth sealed tight. 

	The owls outside hooted again. A cloud fell over the moon blocking the rays

(Feminine rays. The moon itself is male.) and causing the shadows in her room to

consolidate into a single sheet of darkness. Her floor creaked as she shifted her legs

which were threatening to fall asleep again. She did this all in silence. 

	The gray clouds parted and the moonlight filtered down into her room, embracing

her in its glow. As the rays passed over her eyes, against her will Narcolepsy's mouth

opened itself: 

	"And thus it is said, the forest which covers this county shall burn with the sins of

mortals, and the fuel of distemper. The flames shall dance and flicker throughout the

period of five days, till the last of the inferno will be crushed under the boots of the

mortal who produced the destruction in the first place."

	Narcolepsy gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, stifling whatever else

her disobedient orifice would proclaim. Even though her tongue was silenced, the soft

windless breathing whispers inside her mind carried on. 

	'No matter what you do I shall be with you. You are an augur, whether you

would or no. You are the prophetess of Death. Deal with it.'

	"Deal with it?!" Narc cried. "How am I supposed to deal with it?! Everything

will be screwed because of you!" 

	'Act as if everything's normal. Do everyday chores, and speak with your friends. 

I shall force you to speak up occasionally. So what? Go ahead with your existence,

priestess of Death. Go on with your life.'

	Narcolepsy sat down quietly on her bed, and stared up through the sky light into

the moon. She knew what the voice in her head had said was true. And there was

nothing that she could do about it.