Dollface sighed.
What a flake!
How was that tramp related to her?
Dollface sighed again and knelt to lift the lid of her dropped box.
The hat, nestled in the bullwhip's coils, was in perfect shape.
Dollface pulled her headband off.
The hat's brim fell over her right eye. She giggled, already hearing the sound of Satan's asshole trumpeting.
"Sooooooooo-EYYYYYYYY!" She shouted loud enough to rattle the ribs of the dead, "sssssssssoouuuuuuuu-WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Pigpigpigpigpig!"
Only one way to draw out an animal of any kind, and this was the best way to do it...
"…One two," something behind Izzy's ear whispered, "Freddy's coming for you…"
Izzy turned.
"Shut it!" She yelled into the semi-darkness, "I know you're here, you stupid rabbit!"
"Three, four…" The voice of a little girl broke out into a giggle before continuing, "Better lock your door…"
"C'mon, you ain't foolin' me!"
"Five, six, you'll lose it…"
"Shut UP!" Izzy whined, wheeling around to try and find whatever had them stranded in this hellhole.
She had been right, something was in this building with them, but it wasn't one as expected.
Glowing purple eyes swam into her vision as she gasped and tripped in her heels with a sickening crack as a heel popped off and her left ankle subsequently snapped wetly underneath her.
Izzy found she was no longer alone in the swirling clouds of yellow marigold petals...
...Princess took off her shoes and replaced them with sneakers, tossing the red bottoms over her shoulder.
That's better.
She shivered.
Ballet shoes were one thing, heels were another and this building had NO heating whatsoever.
Princess started twirling as flower petals danced alongside her. She let the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy play out in her head as she steppy-steppy-stepped forward and down the hall, past hallowed pictures and digital monuments.
She was beauty as she pirouetted down the halls.
She was grace as she lifted a leg and slowly spun down the passageway.
She had a smear of red on her face as her eyes stayed closed.
"Waah!" Something iron latched onto her outstretched arm, making her open her green eyes wildly in sudden fear.
"So nice to see you here with me!"
Princess tried to struggle away from the leering blue bunny with smoke stains up and down it's face that tried to pull her closer.
Princess screamed as the machine leaned in with a hot blast of rotting air, iron grip from where a fursuit glove had warped from the heat. She slammed her feet into his belly and watched it cave in.
"Why are you blue?" Bonnie the MOTHERfucking bunny sang, "You know I'll be true…"
"I am a dyke!" Princess loudly interrupted.
He stopped, head mechanically snapping toward her and if a robot could emote, he would've looked offended, "What?"
Ever the literalist, Princess yelled, "I am a…"
His magenta eyes intently stared at her with an interest.
"Ho. Mo. SEXUAL!"
"Whatever!" he said, "I do what I want!"
...What are ghosts, really?
They are the handfuls of memory left behind once a soul is gone.
Nothing more, really.
Each memory is like a puzzle of pictures to be put together to chronicle the life of a soul, just an afternoon past time for rainy days and old folk's homes.
This one is stuffed in a shoebox.
An article in Spanish about yet another man on the border, dead of an overdose in his kitchen, normal for borderlines. Where will his pregnant widow go?
America, of course, good luck to her.
To find a new, and hopefully better father for her son. Good luck on that.
Five years later.
A picture, simply tagged, 'Homecoming'.
A dark boy stood on a white porch surrounded by the mother and the new, lighter father.
This trend is kept up, bouncing back and forth between Spanish and English.
Joined by a little boy, then little girl on the porch.
By now, children had started talking based off what little they understood of this close but far away land called 'Mexico' and had started rumors.
'Cause kids will do that.
More pictures.
New to him old truck, growing up, chasing children, mostly cousins, lots of family…
Each snapshot a new world to explore, frozen in thought.
Our real story starts in California on an unusually warm day in early spring, 1987.
"Back any better?"
Vinnie looked up at his grandmother and nodded. More chatter back and forth in Spanish, ending with, "Cotton Ball Legs", and eventually, Vinnie was finished freeing the gutters of random debris.
"Almost summer already."
"Si, Abuela."
Vinnie stepped down from his ladder. A family reunion was coming up soon, meaning that he had to help clean up soon. Today he had to spend time at his grandmother's house in his jean shorts and grey teeshirt.
The grey teeshirt with the sides cut out.
It drove his step-father mad, along with the earring that made him look 'like a fag' (Funny enough, Vinnie had walked in on him really givin' it to the pimply guy at the gas station counter. Vinnie, uncaught, promised to never, ever do that on every level possible, and distracted the halflings upstairs with toys and helped Zachary win that ONE Super Mario Bros. level while Elizabeth played with her ponies...) and the car given by an uncle, probably Pedro, he tended to do that, when he was fourteen and sat in the garage to tinker with at Vinnie's lesiure.
The garage was for William and his mechanical toys, not Vinnie's car which was sitting in the driveway, ready to go, as we speak.
After placing the ladder back in place, Vinnie pulled the keys out of his pocket.
"Be careful, mijo." She said as he spun the keys around his finger.
He laughed. "Always am."
Vinnie arrived at Fredbear's Family Diner.
He pulled into the employee parking spot and stretched his back out, wincing from where he'd been thrown against a sharp table corner.
He'd fallen to catch his little green-eyed, red-brown haired, 'exotic' sister. She'd been proud of her grades and wanted to show them to her Papi.
William was busy.
He didn't want visitors.
Vinnie wasn't the biggest fan of William, but he didn't know anyone else to call that.
Dolli Mae rummaged around the box, not sure what she was looking at, but her brain pieced together the narrative without hesitation.
"What happened next?"
As if by magic, a new slip of paper fell into her hand that was quickly sifting out random red petals.
"'Son of Fabear Ent. Killed in Workplace Accident'?"
"That can't be you." She whispered to herself, "That can't be right."
She looked at the photo of a light bear covered in splattered darkness and a group of rough looking teen boys being hauled off in handcuffs next to a low stage and a man in a rabbit suit.
"But it was my brother."
Dolli Mae squealed and dropped the news clipping.
"Vinnie?"