Disclaimer: This licence isn't mine. The opinions express by the characters are not mine. I do not support nor encourage the illegal or dangerous acts or words present here. I can make a distinction between fiction and reality and I trust in my readership's ability in doing the same.

My dear readers,

Last Tuesday, the 16th of April, was a special day: it was this fanfiction's second anniversary!

Your support and comments had always been appreciated, and will always be.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story, and that you will have a lot of pleasure in discovering the new chapters!

Chapter forty: Continuation

Blood.

It must be the thing Berrykin Bloom hated the most.

He could not even understand why there were people on Earth that enjoyed eating meat-a meat that had been removed from an animal, to whom blood had been poured.

Blood. He could not stand its view, nor its smell.

However, at the Berry Big City's Hospital, he had been forced to see so more blood than that he wanted to.

When Plum Pudding had teased him, saying he was puking his guts out, well, he had had the time to see Blueberry Muffin had lost some of her guts, too. When the midwife had dragged the baby out of her stomach, he had caught sight of some piece of flesh, still stuck to the baby girl. What was it? A piece of intestine? Her liver? What if she loose other organs?

Blood.

The pictures had never vanished in his mind. Pictures he had tried to forget so many times, but that had reappeared, with all that he had to live the previous days.

Blood.

At the hospital, Plum Pudding had said he was puking his guts out. He had throwing out everything he could but it didn't prevent all the pictures from coming in his mind.

Blood and guts.

Blood and guts that covered all his unfortunate fellows, on this horrible chilly night during which their community had been ravaged by an attack of wild squirrels.

Blood and guts, the only food they could give to their Mother Earth.

Blood to which smell was saturating the air and made him suffocate.

Blood and guts, everything that was left from his father.

The production of the ointment for Plum Pudding had exhausted him, and, when he came back home, he used to go straight to his bed and to immediately fall asleep. But now, with the resurgence of all these memories, his insomnia was back, and his nightmares as well.

This night, Berrykin Bloom had woken up with a start, again. He could not really remind what was his nightmare about, but he could say for sure that it had ended with a picture of his father. His father lying on the floor, disemboweled, an expression of terror froze forever in his face, while another Berrykin was dragging him home. Of course, this picture, he had kept it for himself. With whom could he talk about it?

This picture had stayed imprisoned in his memory, well locked; but after these last events, his armor was cracking; and all these things he had retained for so long were now pervading his nights. How much time will it take before it would invade his days?

Once more, Berrykin Bloom was laying in his bed, under the blankets, his bedside lamp dimly shining next to him. His mind was empty, or rather his mind was full of a mush of though that could not be expressed. He had tried to find some distraction, but nothing had worked: this mush of recollections always covered everything. Even Wordsworth's poetry could not appease him.

A mush composed with blood and guts.

It took him several seconds before he noticed Bertram had appeared in his bedroom, partially hidden in the shadow thrown by his closet. This time, he was really furious.

-Are you proud of you? He whistled, scrutinizing Bloom's face to find there marks of fear. "Do you find yourself wise?"

Berrykin Bloom could understand what was Bertie talking about-the night at the hospital, when he had managed to flee from him. But this time, no one was here to protect him. He would have to face it alone.

Bertram slid toward the bed, and Bloom curled up under the blanket, closing his eyes, as if it would make him disappear. Above his head, he could hear Bertie's wheezing breath.

-You know you can't hide from me, he severely said. "How will I teach it to you?"

Frozen in his bed, Bloom was trying not to think about the moment Bertie would pull the blanket off, and what he would do to him later. His cousin wanted his revenge, he felt it.

Bertie stayed quiet for a few minutes. Apparently, he was savoring this moment.

-I found it, he proudly said after a time that had seemed endless to Berrykin Bloom. "Why won't I end the job I started at the hospital? Come on, cousin, I'm sure it will be terribly funny."

Berrykin Bloom felt Bertram leaning at him. At this moment, he forgot everything, and just wait for the moment where everything will be over. He hardly felt his bed sheets turning wetter and wetter, around his pelvis.

-Ugh, Bertram muttered with a manifest disgust. "That was disgusting. I hope you'll be one day a better playmate, Bloom."

And he disappeared, leaving Berrykin Bloom sobbing, in the middle of an acrid smell of urine.

In Strawberryland, the Berrykins had organized a surprise for Blueberry Muffin. Orange Blossom had ventured the idea that her friend would appreciate to have her own, private space to live with her baby, and to no longer be stuck in a guest room, worrying about the disruptions she could impose to her host. They had quickly set to work, and they had built, in a few days, a lovely little house, with the bare necessities for a young woman and her newborn baby; that is to say one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchenette and a living room of a reduced size. This house was only made to live in it, and not to receive big reunions.

Blueberry's new house had been like an evidence for us all. For sure, everyone in Strawberryland had guessed that travelling, with a few days old baby like Blueberry Pie, was now out of the question. Whatever Blueberry Muffin wanted to, she would be forced to stay in Strawberryland for a handful of months.

During the works, Plum Pudding had done her best to make herself useful. Orange Blossom and Strawberry Shortcake, and even Angel Cake gave a helping hand to the Berrykins during their free time, and they didn't fail to give her a report on that they did. Plum Pudding, by her side, always tried to be ready to go to the battle, as soon as their working day started. However, the Berrykins always almost refused her help. They assured her that they knew what the had to do, everything was planned, but it was berry nice from her to purpose her help. Despite their politeness, Plum Pudding had understood the reason of their refusal. There were not many things she could do on her crutches.

And she started to doubt.

She wondered if she would really cure, one day.

The intensive exercises of physiotherapy she had done since her accident prevented her from thinking too much about this option, but she had noticed her progresses were stagnating. She had tried to talk about it to her friends. Orange Blossom had told her, under the seal of secrecy, that Berrykin Bloom had had an "accident" during his youth (she had stayed rather evasive on the topic), an accident that had perfectly resorbed and no longer had any noticeable consequences; but this answer hadn't convinced her: Berrykins being spirit of Nature, their healing was, "naturally", quicker and easier than humans' one. And, as for the others, their dreams had never been threatened of coming to nothing. Well, of course, there was Strawberry Shortcake (and, to a lesser extent, Angel Cake) and her Café. But, to Plum Pudding's eyes, it was not the same thing. It was nice to wear cute white aprons and serve slice if pies, but her, Plum Pudding, she was looking for something else, something… bigger. Yes, it was the proper word. Bigger. And, berry objectively, there was not so many "big" things to be found in Strawberryland, a Berry Bitty City. There, no one could understand her. However, she knew someone else, someone who was living a long way away and had experienced the same things she was now experiencing.

Plum Pudding hesitated a long time. It was not that she didn't want to, but it had been a so long time since they met for the last time… What if she made herself look ridiculous?

But she could definitively not stay in this state of indecisiveness, ignorance and anxiety. Taking her courage with both hands, she grabbed her phone.

-Cherry Jam? She said with a weak voice. "I'd like to talk with you".

Cherry Jam had opened her own music academy in Berry Big City. Thanks to her former stardom, students were heaving from all over the city. Some of them were inhabited by an authentic passion for music, and some else wanted to approach her, eager to take benefit of her network, and to discover why she had given everything up, when her career was at its peak. Maybe they could extract for her the reasons of her artistic retirement? But Cherry Jam was extremely serene about this point. As an artist, she was already out-of-date. To Berry Big City's elite, she was, at best, a spoiled rotten child who had made a tantrum when she was twelve years old. At worst, she had been unable to handle the pressure and sank into a deep depression, many years ago. About these last points, many theories were running in town: some of them said she used to plagiarize her work and had been forced to retire when the real artist had threatened her with costly proceedings. Other people talked about detox treatment, suicide attempt, psychiatric hospital. At the time, Cherry Jam had been amused to see to which degree people took great delight in contemplating at their idols' decline. Then, another starlet had replaced her, using the same effects she had used: glimmering clothes, repetitive tunes, superficial lyrics, flirtatious choreographies; and the gutter press had forgotten her. Gossip about her were no longer worth a penny. It had been a blessing in disguise. Now, Cherry Jam was free. Free to go where she wanted to without being hunted by paparazzies. Free to say what she wanted to without finding, the following day, her words misrepresented and clumsily interpreted in a rag. Free to dedicate herself to her students, to give them a voice through a flute, a violin of a piano, to see them assert themselves thanks to this incredible power, that is to create pretty things.

When Plum Pudding had asked her if she had some time to give her, she did not hesitate. More than a student, Plum Pudding was, and will always be, a friend. The Following weekend, she was back in Strawberryland, the Berry Bitty City in which she had been able to remember who she was, sharing a cup of tea with Plum Pudding in her Studio.

-What do you want to say to me, Plum Pudding? Cherry Jam kindly asked.

-I wanted to know how you dealt with your loss of fame, the young dancer answered.

-I did not loose my fame, Plum. I dropped it.

-It's all the same!

-No, it's not. If my fame had been lost, it would have mean that it was independent on me, that someone had had the power of controlling it in my place. I decided to put it aside for a while… and I never wanted to get it back. It means I am the master of my own destiny.

-You never missed it?

-Never. As long as I was famous, I was like a puppet for my staff. Always, all day long, it was practice, photography, interviews, practice again, until exhaustion, and doing the same thing the following day, and the day after, and the day after after too, endlessly. Smiling in front of the camera, crying all alone in the dressing room. Never complain, or you are told that you have everything a twelve-years old can dream of-plenty of clothes, glitters, fans. A real gilded cage. If there is only one thing I can tell for sure, it is that I will never curse the day I decided to fly away.

Plum Pudding felt desperate. Cherry Jam was the only one person who had approached her own dream, and she did not even realize how lucky she had been!

-But you don't think it is wonderful to be loved by everyone? She carefully asked.

-It was not a wholesome love, like the love you can feel for your friends, your brother, your dog. All those persons know you and love you for what you are, Plum Pudding. My fans were in love with a picture on a coated paper, a picture bearing my effigy, and they treated me as well. They did not like Cherry Jam, they liked the singer. And my agent had perfectly understood it. My fans loved me, but I could not love them, because I was always forced to wear a mask, to give them what they wanted from me, and to watch their hysteria about me growing. My agent was their slave. Me, I wasn't. I proved it the day I broke my ties.

Plum Pudding closed her eyes. She remembered the emotion she felt at the end of her recital. The reverential silence in the audience. Then the thunderous applause. People shooting her name. The smiles on their faces. In front of them, the feeling of being important. Superior. Eternal. But it was over now, and her memories and the emotions shaded off as time passed. Maybe she would never experience it again, and her only linked with her past would be crumbs of reminiscence, that would be hardly distinguished between silly dreams.

-You were everything, she muttered. "For all those people, you were more than an artist. You were a goddess. And now, everyone had forgotten your name. You are a fallen goddess."

Cherry Jam stayed quiet, waiting to see where Plum Pudding wanted to come to.

-Can you really pretend you never missed this period, when you had everything? Did you never wish of feeling this once more, even only for a second?

Cherry Jam smiled.

-Of course, Plum Pudding, I understand what you mean. But I was coming to such an extent that I could hardly trust people around me. Were they faking their smiles? Will their advices be profitable to me… or to them? In a word, I could not longer tell who was meaning my well, and who only wanted me to be their puppet. Does it really matter to be loved by people that want you to be a perfect, obedient doll? I don't even call it love. To me, it is fanaticism. Plum Pudding, you want to be a star, but why can't you see you can be a star for the ones who really appreciate the real Plum Pudding, I mean a girl in the flesh with her personality and her flaws, and not a shape whirling on a stage, very far from them?

Cherry Jam leaned toward Plum Pudding and added, lowing her voice:

-Quantity is not Quality. All the love you search, you don't have to beg it by bending over backward for unidentified person. No, the strongest, best love you will receive, it will be right under your nose, from your friends and your family. Now, it's up to you to decide which kind of love you prefer.

To be continued…