The Ashes of Wonderland
Part 1
The White Moth
Mist flows out from between trees
And shakes the spines of beaten leaves
It was spring.
It had always been spring. She remembered only the spring at this time, April second-handed over and over, but she knew the tiny bites of snowflakes on naked fingers. She had seen the blood smeared on all the leaves of autumn, yet she didn't truly remember them. Could she consider the others, whose memories she fed upon, to be separate entities? To be different people other than herself? Too many times had the memories and body been recycled in order to protect this world.
Now she was alone.
Alone, with the night.
The night had never bothered her. It was just the isolation of the darkness.
She placed a lock of raven feather hair behind her ear so that the wind would not bring it into her mouth or let it stick to her lips, ones that shimmered in the dim light of the vehicle. That was one of the bothers of traveling by car with the windows down. Violet eyes caught the white line as it coursed along the side of the road. Occasionally, she would hear the chirp of a cicada along the route. It would shriek out once as she passed by and then reach after her with its sound, as if trying to take her back with it into the darkness. It never succeeded. The black wheels seemed to make sure of that with their gallant speed towards their destination.
The glossy shell of the taxi was misleading to the inside of the cab. From the moment she had stepped inside until the windows were rolled down, the dank smell of old vomit stains rose up from the carpeted interior. She was glad that the seats were stiff fake leather, as open and scarred with duct tape as they were. She wouldn't be haunted with the horror of accidentally sitting where stains had settled, where the center of the seat would be still wet with illness. The seats stuck to the back of her thighs and knees with the sweat and humidity of the evening. That wasn't the only thing that stuck to them; the driver had let out an ecstatic murmur as she had gotten in. She had noticed him running his eyes over her ivory legs and frayed black shorts, ones that were well beyond the penalty marker at any public school, no doubt. She hid her blush, one of embarrassment and resentment, in the dim light and the hood of her midnight-colored felt coat. An aging man, who smelled of acrid cigar smoke, need not inspect a fifteen-year-old body during the night.
The whipping air was cool though, and her calves managed saving from sticky seats and sticky eyes through her knee-high boots. The winds pushed at her hair and hood. She closed her eyes and smiled a little. She was glad for the open air. It cooled the silver cross, one that slipped nicely into the cradle of her breasts and hung by a thin chain around her neck. She reached for it and caressed it with her thumb.
The edge of the city approached, and so the open fields began to disappear, replacing broken pavement with yellow lines and turn-off lanes. She thrust her eyes into the night, with a feeling that, somehow, she would most likely never see this place again. The fireflies danced with the freedom from old industry life that had filled everything before the new millennium. They were not choked out on fumes and garbage. However, they did not risk fluttering past the invisible line that separated the countryside and the outskirts of the city.
She was the only one that dared.
She was ready to be alone this time. None of the others had surfaced, and maybe they weren't coming back with her. Maybe she was the only one who wasn't tired of dying yet.
The old leaves danced along the road and the live ones swayed as they were attached to their mother in the sweeping wind.
The cab jolted suddenly and her entire body was thrust forward, but her muscles helped her maintain her sitting position. The driver let out an exclamation of surprise.
"I always seem to forget that's there," he said, his voice controlling shaking, but still revealing his accent, "But I barely travel this route anymore." He looked at her from the front seat with the rear-view mirror, perhaps to see if his passenger accepted the excuse.
"So what are you doing going to Tokyo-3 in the first place?"
She was silent for a moment. The personal question had startled her, but it shouldn't have surprised her, since he did seem to find interest in her. A small smile appeared. "I'm going home," she said quietly. The driver gave a little laugh. "You'll be lucky if you find it, miss. Haven't you heard the stories about that place? Monster stories and shit." She saw him look at her nervously after the last word. So he was aware of her age.
"Yeah, I've heard of them."
He laughed a little again. "Sounds like some old Godzilla movie doesn't it?" he said and then smiled big. "Watch out! Godzilla's heading straight for Tokyo Bay!" he mocked and then let out a muffled roar, one that sounded more like a dying bird than the infamous giant lizard. A small giggle came from the backseat. He gave a toothy grin as he peered back at his passenger. His smile was that of one who had done little and still won first prize in the county fair. His eyes flickered back and forth between the form in the backseat and the road ahead for the rest of the drive.
Her thoughts wandered. This was the third time she had been in Tokyo, and this wasn't even the real city. It was a fabrication, a cold palace made of steel and cables that were torn from memories and pasted here and there across a map to replicate something from the past. They hadn't done well at copying it, though. It no longer held the places she had known so many times before. It hardly held anything any more. She could see the large lakes that weren't naturally formed, and she could see the remains of buildings as they peaked up along the water. This was a horrible painting of Tokyo. She hated it. She deserved it though, for not being able to aid as the creature erupted from the ice and swallowed their lives whole, along with half of humanity. The blessings they all shared had not been able to save them in the mouth of Hell.
A flicker of golden webbed wings in her mind.
A wail against the roar in her ears.
The ice beneath her gloved fingertips.
The inevitable snap of bone.
She shook her head of old images and musty sounds that she knew were her own, but never really belonged to her. They were borrowed. The thoughts made her chest take a dive, and so she focused on the dim lights and the approaching frequency of housing as they reached the outskirts of town, where she was going. A distraction from the chronic noise in her head.
The rest of the ride passed without words or focused thoughts. Soon, her feet touched down on cement sidewalks as she opened the door. "Hey sweetheart," the cabbie said as she reached in to retrieve her bag, "you can ride with me anytime." Then he winked, making a clicking sound with his teeth, as he eyed her. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders in an attempt to mask her gender and perhaps become a eunuch to this man. His grin seemed to only spread further, mimic-playing the Cheshire Cat. The door closed and the only other person who knew she existed on this street left her with an engine's rumble in the wake of a swift departure.
As the sound faded into the distance, she couldn't help but feel alone. She tossed a gaze toward the sky, asking a question with no words. The full moon stared down the sky. Unconsciously, she picked out the eyes and laughing mouth of the Man in the Moon. The moon…
Golden hair against white satin and lace.
Slender hands twisting pearls.
She frowned at her constancy to pick out all the bad memories and allow them to devour her whole. Quickly, as if to run away, she picked up her bag and headed toward the door, sprinting.
She took the elevator up.
Quietness slid across the hallways like a slow-moving blanket, and the shoes on her feet seemed to be the imps of it all, ready to kill the silence she loved. She remembered the number of her door. It would be the first time she had ever seen it, and not even a jumble of leftovers could tell her otherwise.
She found it and slid in the keycard. The door whisked open and she stepped into the darkened hall quickly, her feet murdering the quiet at the last possible moment.
She didn't turn on the light, and instead, navigated by the light that let itself in through naked panes of glass. She tossed her bag in a chair, and swerved to dodge any of the boxes on the floor. There happened to be few, but they were painful to the shins and knees, nonetheless.
She felt the urge to shower and clean away the dirt of traveling, but the sleep was pressing upon her eyes. She yawned, stretching her arms out and above her head. She knelt down to one of the boxes and pulled at a cord and finding the end and the object she had wanted. She sat down, crossing her legs in front of her. She yawned again.
The cord met socket moments later and the room became illuminated in soft yellow light. She squinted at the lettering along boxes for the right one until she found what she was looking for, and from there she pulled out blankets to sleep on. The unfolding and spreading of the blankets was a quick action. She was tired, and this would have to do. She started school in the morning.
Across from her, were three clothes hangers. Each one held a different piece of clothing. One, a white shirt, another a sea green skirt, and the last, a pair of socks. On the floor beneath them was a pair of dark Mary-Jane shoes. She stared into the darkness at each of them. The moonlight lit them and produced warped visions of what they were.
Her stomach squirmed suddenly in anticipation of the morning. Tomorrow would mean a new destiny. She closed her eyes and let a light sigh escape her lips. The rebirth had brought her into a new realm of dogma, where people evaded and boarded up certain gates of destiny. They avoided paths and avoided people. She had wanted to find another so innocent, another friend like before, that laughed like before, that loved like before. But the Second Impact wouldn't let her. Everything was stained now. Everything was dirty.
Even her own hands were soiled.
Her trip back to Tokyo wasn't one of reminiscence. She was sent here for a purpose. She was a replacement. What was the initial thing she was sent to substitute? Why was she here? Why had she returned? She grew aggravated at remembering the words of the old man on the telephone, the one who coaxed her back into Tokyo with the promise of answers. Answers to what questions? Of why we exist? Why we are burdened with the loneliness of apocalypse? Why this city is so much more tainted than when she last left it? She hated this city. She hugged a pillow to her chest. She felt so bitter, and such a feeling was unpleasant, even if it was justified.
A gentle tinking sounded out from the lamp. She turned her eyes towards it. Somehow, a small white moth had gotten into the room, and was hitting its head again the light's bulb.
"Don't you know the light will burn you?" she asked.
The moth knocked its head against the bulb again as if to reply. Its wings fluttered noisily.
"Aren't you afraid of being hurt?"
The wings beat against the air recklessly along the lining of the lampshade.
Pity filled the eyes of the girl who watched the moth. "You don't like being hurt, do you?" she said. The moth caught hold of the shade, and its wings quivered as it took shaky Lilliputian steps along the cloth. She sat up.
"None of us really do, like pain that is."
She reached out towards the moth.
"I won't let you feel pain any longer."
She flicked the switch off and the room was suddenly dark again. She lay back down on the blankets and covered herself up. She smiled in the darkness. "I wish I could do that for myself, but I can't. I will always be alone. My solitude ensures the safety of humanity," she said and closed her eyes. A thought came forth and bubbled along the crease of her brain before she drifted off to sleep.
You ensure the safety of mankind, or its destruction.
Which?
Which will you choose Hotaru?
Author's Notes:
For readers to understand the flow of the story: this takes place between episode 23 and End of Evangelion, with a twist that is beneficial for writing. It takes the character Hotaru Tomoe from Sailor Moon and puts her in the Evangelion story line, and I've been careful as to how I place her.
The lines of poem at the beginning of each chapter are parts to a poem called "Suffocating Alice." The poem can be found in its entirety in my Fiction Press account, and, therefore, belongs solely to me. The title of this story is also the title of my live-journal, which is solely mine as well.
Song listened to while writing: Deftones – Change (In The House of Flies)
