A/N: Hope you have all read "The Wastelands" by T.S Elliot. Great poem. Great inspiration.

Cursed

Confusion blurs around my mind, hazy and uninteresting. I lie in a field of tall grass alone. Alone? Robbie is not at my side. I wonder, but push it aside. My current motive in The Forest is to retrieve answers as to why I am here. There can't be a long explanation. Perhaps my out of body experience got a little out of hand. Maybe the Sandman mixed in some drugs with his dust one night and it hasn't worn off yet. In other words, maybe someone slipped me a halucinogen.

On my feet. Straight as truth and ready for an adventure. Now that Dream-Robbie is not at my side, perhaps I can get somewhere worth remembering in eighty years.

My surroundings are very plain. Plain like the one freckle I have on my neck. I know it's there, but it's useless. Tall grass is lively around my existance. Before me is a path surrounded by dark shadows of trees. I know I'm not near where I started. I can just sense something different in the air; something like tragedy lingering, stinking up the atmosphere.

My feet tremble as I take the first few steps into the forest. There is a familiarity to this place. Even the trees stare at me to the very core. I wonder, is it fate? Is this place in the strings of my life, waiting for me to pluck them?

"Stephanie."

I nearly have a heart attack. Someone has said my name, but no one is around. I know I can barely see in this moonlit entrapment. I squint, hoping that will help my vision. Obviously it failed.

"Stephanie."

The voice carries along a breeze through the trees. This voice is female, no doubt. Unrecognizable and almost raspy.

"What do you want?" I scream. Probably not the best idea.

Crows fly away from the tree nearest me. I've disturbed the peace. If there was any.

I keep walking. This time I ignore the shaking in my bones. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am scared. Not edge-of-your-seat popcorn-thriller scared. Honest-to-goodness, heartstopping scared. The kind of afraid that hits you when you realize your mother and father have been fighting since you were a baby. (It was a horrible realization why I enjoyed going to Lazytown every summer.) The kind of fear that seeps into the cracks of your soul and rests until you realize you are alone in this chaotic mess.

A shriek lept from my throat as I felt something touch my shoulder. Instinctively, I turned to face my demon.

In front of me stood a beautiful figure. She pulled her long finger away from me and frowned. Her luxurious blonde waves of hair spiralled to a gentle shoulder frame. The rest of this woman was damn near perfect to a porcelain doll. Even her skin was milky like that of Snow White.

"Stephanie," The woman said. Her voice was not so raspy now. "I knew you would come. Please, come with me."

"But who-" I stopped myself from running my mouth. I had no choice. Running in a forest would do me no good.

I followed the woman in her long, blue cloak. She appeared magical in her stride, as if the whole world was powerless to her beauty.

Deeper into the forest we went. The moonlight trickled down our cheeks and profiles just enough so we could keep a comfortable distance from one another.

"Here."

The Woman pointed to a clearing to the left of us. There were a few rocks big enough to sit on and a small pond in the middle. I was rejoiced to see clear water. Drinkable? I sure hope so.

"Sit, Stephanie. Drink some water and I will tell you anything you want to know."

Too simple.

"What's the catch?" I ask.

She says, "Nothing. Only a promise that you will do what you have to do."

"Umm," I hesitate and agree. "Fine. Who the hell are you?"

Her facial expression is now that of shock. "You don't recognize me? Hah. It's a joke. I know you are from Past Lazytown. It's me, Bessie."

"Alright, now tell me who you are. I'm not here for games. Obviously not because this is not the Lazytown I know and love. Who the hell are you?"

"Like I said," She smiled and continued. "I'm Bessie. I lived next door to you and Milford. In the summer you always found me making your Uncle do chores around my house."

My eyes widen. "But you're pretty . . . Not like you weren't. Just-"

"I know. Remember how obsessed with Botox I was? Well, I was cursed. The fortune teller I saw way back when said that I, too, would be cursed after the fall of Lazytown. She clearly was a legit witch. There's no way I could afford this much plastic surgery."

I tried not to laugh. I failed. Bessie looked at the ground before starting to laugh along with me.