The large wooden sign read 'Jupiter Florida. Population: 15,000'. I sighed and rested my forehead against the window of the bus. The old man sitting next to me had boarded the bus after me in Georgia, and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his ass hit the seat. The old fellow had remained that way for the entire trip; he never opened his eyes.

I clutched my pocket book, containing the only money I had to my name; a meager amount that I had pilfered little by little for the last three years. It was nowhere near the amount I had hoped to have when I first began saving, but the opportunity knocked and I had to answer, ready or not. I did what I had to do, dyed my hair, packed a bag and left.

The first few blocks of Jupiter were dotted with family stores: a bait and tackle shop, a small diner, a nail salon. At the laundry mat, a little kid kid licking an ice cream cone pressed her sticky fingers against the plate-glass window while her mother folded laundry.

When I was a real girl, my mother would take me to church on Sundays. And on the days when my father couldn't come because he was working on another book, she would take me for ice cream afterwards. She would always get chocolate in a waffle cone and I always got whatever strange flavor du jor they offered. Invariably, I would hate whatever strange thing I ended up ordering and my mother would trade me. She never told me that I couldn't order Cucumber Lemon ice cream, she just dutifully ordered what she knew I really liked.

The memory brought a tear to my eye that I hastily wiped away. No more time spent crying. What's over is over and there is only forward. I dug into my pockets and pulled out my pack of Lucky Strikes and a box of matches. It was with shaky fingers that I placed a cigarette between my lips and lit it. The bitter smoke filled my lungs and I exhaled with relish.

Outside the window the stores were giving way to large houses and farms, more and more space separating them the further out we traveled. I glanced to my left at the old timer sleeping, while I took another drag from my cigarette. He had still not moved, save for swaying slightly with the movement of the bus. At that moment I was lurched forward and I felt the seat drop from under me. A small "oh!" of suprise escaped my lips before I landed. The bus had hit a pot-hole. I shook my head while other passengers murmured and grumbled. I looked again to my left, sure that the impact had finally woken the man next to me. I swallowed hard when I realized it had not. It had, however, tossed his body into an unnatural slumped position that had to be uncomfortable.

"Sorry about that, folks!" the bus driver called, looking in his rear-view mirror to make sure everyone was okay.

Someone was not okay. I held my breath, my cigarette long forgotten in my right hand and slowly reached my left out toward the man's lifeless form; inching forward until my pinky grazed his. I snapped my hand back and recoiled. Dropping my cigarette, I stood too quickly and banged my head on the overhead luggage compartment. "Please!" I called "Please, stop the bus!"

I stumbled passed the man's legs, careful not to touch him, as I tripped out into the isle. I didn't care that the bus hadn't stopped moving. I opened the overhead luggage storage and pulled out my suitcase and my sketchbook.

"I have to get off."

The driver looked at me with wide eyes in the mirror. "Here, miss? I have to tell you; not far from here-"

"No...uhm- I mean, Yes!" I stuttered, "This is my stop."

"Whatever you say, lady." He pulled his air-break and pulled off to the shoulder of the deserted road. As soon as the doors were open wide enough for me to squeeze through I was out the door. I ran toward a line of trees in the distance, my heels sinking into the grass. My lungs were on fire, my stomach was churning; acid spilling up into my throat.

As soon as I reached the trees I braced myself on one and deposited the meager contence of my stomach onto the ground.

When I was able to stop dry heaving, I took a few steps backwards, threw my arms out to my sides and fell back against the grass. The cool blades tickled my legs through my stockings.

Everywhere I went, I brought death. I was worse than a black cat. I was a jinx, a murderer. I wondered where the old man was headed when he boarded the bus back in Georgia. It seemed like a million years ago. He was alone. A widower maybe? On his way to see his children? Were they waiting at a bus depot somewhere, his favorite candy in hand, anxiously waiting to see their dad? Or had the bus already arrived and left, their father nowhere in sight? Were they worried right now? Making calls to the bus company, family, the police? "Have you heard from dad?"

Or was he just like me? A sad person, alone and just looking for a place to exist? Somehow that thought broke my heart more than the thought of him having a family. Was that destined to be me? Someday I'll die alone on a bus, next to a mess of a girl with dyed black hair and scared eyes, never having found it. I dug my fingernails into the grass beneath me.

When I was a real girl I had blonde hair. I believed in mermaids and girls in white dresses, and princesses and knights. My name was Elizabeth Cooley and I had made my mother laugh when I stamped my foot and wailed, "I don't want to be a princess! I want to be a knight!"

"Why?" She had asked me simply. There was no judgement or disdain in her voice. She just wanted to know my reason.

"I'm not going to just sit around waiting for some guy to slay the dragon! I'll do it myself!"

"I'll do it myself." I whispered now, picking myself up off the ground. I smoothed my new hair back into place as I fished my pocket for my cigarettes and a match. I took in my surroundings as I inhaled. The blood pressure spike that always accompanies a cigarette seemed to make my vision sharper. I felt more alert than I had since I left Georgia. I blew away the old memories with the smoke when I exhaled into the warm Florida air.

I spotted something that I hadn't noticed before, on one of the trees by which I had vomited. It was a poster, a bunch of names including "La Patit" , "Lobster Boy", and "The Siamese Sisters" were listed under the heading;

Fruelighnn Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities.

Only upon entering will you learn it's secrets.

East. 2 miles

I folded the paper into small squares and put it in the pocket of my dress. In the same movement I extracted another cigarette and lit it with the burning end of my old one. I knelt to the ground and opened up my suitcase, took off my shoes and stockings and placing them inside. 2 miles wasn't much of a distance but it would be more comfortable barefoot. I picked up my sketchbook and my suitcase. Holding both in my right hand, I took off east whispering "I'll do it my self."