A Warm Welcome from the Lady Dreamweaver!

“Mom….?”

Lilly was taught never to interrupt adults, yet here she was, surrounded by them, doing exactly that–interrupting. She knew she was going to get in trouble, but when Lilly showed her mom why, she expected Mom would surely change her mind about any punishment. After all, this news was just that great! Just wait until she heard! But so far, Mom hadn’t resonded. She was still engrossed in her conversation with other well-dressed adults about some man named “grant”.

Too excited to wait any longer, Lilly decided she’d better try again.

“Mom….?”

Mom was still talking to the other grown-ups, who had begun to take quick glances at Lilly. Maybe this would be enough to get Mom’s attention. Lilly waited a bit, but again, nothing. Soon everyone was talking about this “grant“ again. Ok, thought Lilly, one more try. This time she reached as high as she could, and tugged on the sleeve of her mom’s shirt at the same time she spoke–

“Mom!”

“Please excuse me,” Mom said to her friends. One man wearing wire-rimmed glasses nodded and took a drink from his wine glass. Mom said those glasses were only for special occasions, but here they were, all of them, some dressed nice, some in dusty jeans and t-shirts, drinking from the wine glasses Lilly had been told NEVER to touch. The group of grown-ups fell silent and smiled down at Lilly as Mom turned around and looked at her. Thinking Mom was about to yell, Lilly braced herself.

“What is it, Lilly, sweetie?” Mom said through her teeth. Uh oh., thought Lilly, this meant she was really going to catch it later.

Just like her parents said when they called the University yesterday, Lilly stood tall, puffed up her chest and announced proudly, “I have made a discovery.”

A chuckle swept over group of grown-ups. Faintly, she heard a woman’s voice say, “Oh, how cute,” and Lilly cringed. Being five years old never hurt so bad as when she had something important to say and it was written off as “cute”.

“Oh?” Mom said, obviously faking enthusiasm for her company‘s sake. “A discovery? I bet you have, but right now, Mom’s very busy, so why don’t you to go find dad and tell him all about it, okay?” Mom turned Lilly shoulders around, pointing her away from the group of grown-ups, gave her a light push to start her walking and immediately went back to schmoozing.

Lilly walked away slowly. She was not surprised. Mom doesn’t like to be interrupted, and for sure at times like this. Well, time to find Dad. She looked around for him. There he was, at the other tent, talking to a crowd of students about the relics he and Mom unearthed yesterday. This should be easier, she thought, her pace quickening. The students like her, and Dad doesn’t mind being interrupted half as much as Mom does. Lilly frowned at herself for not thinking of coming to Dad first as she made her way through the students…and there he was, next to the table. She took a deep breath, finished weaving her way through the chattering students and began tugging at the bottom of Dad’s sweaty plaid shirt.

“Dad?”

She got a quick glance from him, but no answer. She tried again.

“Dad?”

This time Dad turned quickly and scooped her up into his arms, making her laugh.

“It’s my little assistant, everyone!” He said with a big smile. Everyone around him chuckled. She smiled back, relieved he wasn‘t angry for being interrupted.

“Well! What’s so important you had to interrupt Dad’s class?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, signaling her to take note of the secret chastise hidden in the question, but still smiling as he asked. The class all looked at her, smiling real smiles, not like the pretend ones Mom’s group had given her before. Maybe, Lilly thought, they would actually be interested in what she had to say. A wave of excitement swept over her. Lilly liked to think she had something in common with the students. She was only five, yes, but they also were often called “kids” by her parents and other teachers and investors who came to visit the dig site. Swelling with confidence, she took a deep breath and began to speak–

“I have made a discovery.” she announced proudly.

At first there was silence, only the waves of the nearby ocean could be heard for a moment. A little chuckle came from someone in the group of students. Though no one here actually said it, all their faces said the same thing.…‘How Cute.’ Uh oh, she thought, this could be a warning signal. She decided to ignore it and keep her hope alive. Besides, they didn’t know Dad like she did.

“Yeah?” Dad said, actually sounding interested. You too, huh? And what did you discover today?

Alright, here’s her moment. She would be the youngest archaeologist in history. Her parents would be

so proud. Her excitement building, Lilly looked right at everyone, much like her parents did when teaching, and said loudly, “I have discovered a mermaid.”

An “awww” came from her audience and the “how cute” looks became too intense for Lilly to bear anymore. She turned to her dad, hoping not to see the same look from him, but her heart began to sink with disappointment, because there it was. She tried to hide her sinking feelings with a smile like the ones her mom gave, but Dad noticed. He picked Lilly up and sat her down on the table between an old piece of pottery and a collection of spearheads he and the students had been arranging for a display.

“Sweetie, don’t be disappointed, he said softly. I’m sure what you found are just a collection of fish bones. Sometimes they can look kind of strange if they aren’t put together properly. We’ve found plenty along the shores since we started to dig here last week…..besides,” he said, “everyone knows that mermaids aren’t….” Dad looked at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

“Real.” she finished quietly.

“Right”, he said, and lightly pushed some strands of her dark curly hair away from her face. “And we know that because they are only in ……”

“Stories,” she finished obediently.

“Yes, that’s right.” Dad lightly tapped Lilly’s nose with his finger , and bent down to her eye level.

“Now, don’t give up the search! Someday you’ll make one great archaeologist. Just look at how well you can do a presentation!”

Everyone chuckled again, making Lilly blush. She looked at the ground.

“Now, take a look over there for me,” he pointed to the well-dressed group of people surrounding Mom. See all those people? They pay Mom and Dad for their research, and I have to make us look good today.” He gently turned her towards the beach and gave her a small pat on the bottom. “Now go play, and we’ll read some stories about mermaids after Dad’s presentation, OK?”

“OK.” Lilly said with a sigh. “But I really think I found one, Dad.”

He smiled at her again. “I’m sure you think you have, pumpkin, but remember, There’s just no such …….”

“Thing.” she finished again obediently.

“That’s right, love.” he said, “Now go on.”

Dad lightly tapped her bottom again to start her walking along and she headed back towards the beach. As she walked away slowly, Lilly heard the soft murmur from the students as she walked away saying those two words she hated so much, those words that were the downfall of every child with possibly the best news in the world to give to adults–“How cute.” Hearing them made her walk faster towards the nearby beach.

When she reached the beach, Lilly took her sandals off and walked slowly along the tall rocky wall separating the beach from the grassy land above it. She picked up her plastic shovel and pail along the way, as well as the old paintbrush her father had given her to help him sweep dirt and rocks away like a real archaeologist. She came to a stop at the huge rock with the tiny carving of the fish on it., and found the hole she’d dug beneath it just big enough for a small child to squeeze into. She crawled through the opening and into a cave, lighted by the reflection of a small blue lagoon inside of it, and the roar of the beach muffled behind her.

Inside the small cave, she looked again at the pictures and carvings of people and fish all over the walls, but the drawing Lilly had found most interesting was one of a castle with white spirals on the tops of each tower and white pearl gates in front of it. People with fins instead of legs were drawn all around it. She walked to the toward the picture, knelt down directly in front of it, and using her plastic shovel, began to scoop sand to cover the skeleton she had found which couldn‘t be a mermaid.

With every scoop full of sand, a part of it disappeared, first the skull, then the shoulders, the arms, which couldn’t of course, be human arms, then the rib cage and the spine, which , strangely, extended down for at least 3 more feet, but surely there was an explanation for that, Lilly thought. Lastly, she covered the small groups of bones that fanned out from the bottom of the spine, which simply could not be fins. When she was done, she took one last look around the cave and noticed, for the first time, a small shrine between the small lagoon and the newly re-buried skeleton of what couldn’t possibly have been a mermaid. She also noticed for the first time little stone carvings of people with fins instead of legs. A beautiful crown made of pearls rested beside them, and next to it a bouquet of fresh sea flowers. She also noticed, for the first time, a trail of wet sand leading from the shrine to the lagoon she could swear wasn’t there before.

Oh well, Lilly thought with a sigh, her dad is a real archaeologist, he has to be right.

She gathered up her things and crawled back through the hole beneath the rock, used the shovel one last time to fill the hole with sand, and slowly made her way back down the beach to build a sand castle. Maybe a castle, she thought, that looked like the one drawn on the wall of the cave next to the mermaid. Wait, Lilly, she thought again to herself, it wasn’t a mermaid…. because as everyone knows, there’s just no such thing.

THE END

KARMA INC.

The only way to know for sure is to ask the question. It needed to be done. How could he even try? After all, he understood exactly how she felt. The scumbags who managed to elude the justice system would still pay once her guys caught up with them.

In a poetic way, though his people held the badges, her people were the cops. In most cases, even better. Yes, they could make one hell of a team, her guys and the police. But nope, that would never happen. Vigilante justice is illegal. No one on the force knew who these people were, and the only members of the public who wanted to see any of them go down were those with something to hide from them. Mostly those with expensive suits, a wife, a mistress, a nanny, and a cushy job on capitol hill. Even so, the simple point was that civilians besting the police at catching bad guys was bad for business.

Though everyone on the force had become a cop for a good reason, somewhere along the way many had gotten sucked into the void of not only defending the innocent, but also the guilty. The law had been written and re-written in a way that allowed the guilty walk away with a slimy, gloating smile that made him sick at his stomach, and that kind of thing takes it’s toll on a cop…. wears him out quickly, numbs him to a point that he almost doesn’t care anymore. Her people helped with all that, and had made him and a lot of other frustrated cops out there feel like they still made a difference.

And now, he had to take her down. Deep in thought, he sipped his coffee, squinting as he felt it burn his tongue. Man, sometimes life’s a bitch.

Well, he thought to himself, here we go. Gotta be done. The suits are watching through the two-way mirror. ….just do it, man. Make it look good.

He sauntered into the interrogation room, head held high, and leaned on the cold metal table, palms down, staring at the vision of a woman sitting on the other side of it. His mouth suddenly gone dry again, he opened it quickly and the question came out slowly, in a voice that was barely his-

“Are you involved with Karma Incarnate?”

So much for making it look good, he thought.

She sat there, her beautiful dark eyes staring into his without so much as a flinch as a reaction to his question. She took her time responding, taking a piece of paper off the desk and slowly folding it in half, then half again, …Origami, he thought, she has nerves of steel. He envied her ability to stay so cool. After 22 years on the force and the bastards he’d dealt with over the years, for him, that ability was long since gone. But he kept his perfect arrest record in mind as motivation as she folded the paper again, never once unlocking her lovely dark eyes from his to see what she was making. ….until finally she spoke.

“I can‘t be involved with anyone…” she paused, and smiled …. “commitment issues.” Her voice was steady, soft and sweet. It made him feel like an asshole. And even for a seasoned cop like him the lie was nearly undetectable….Nearly.

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“I won’t ask again, he said, trying to sound as threatening as he could manage. I’m sure you know what Karma Inc is, don’t you? The vigilante group?”

“Vigilantes?”, she asked in a sincerely curious voice. Now, from what I’ve read, those people have been helping the police out. It would seem that vigilantes or not, they‘re not a bad cause to be a part of. I’m sure that you, just like anyone, would agree that some flawless law and order was much needed before they came along.”

Now she was playing with him, neither confessing nor denying…being as beautiful as she was, she had managed to partially derail his concentration until now, that kind of thing annoyed him.

Time to get serious, he decided. The suits will never believe this sweet cop routine. The detective responded with a quick retort…..“Not so flawless this time around.” he dropped some photos on the table in front of her. “Meet Jerry Stubbs, though I’m sure you’ve already heard of him. Found this morning dead on his bathroom floor with a empty bottle of sleeping pills next to him.”

The graphic photograph showed just that. -a hairy, overweight man in a soiled pair of once-white underwear lying face down on a white tile floor with a pill bottle next to him.

He had now taken notice her eyes were so dark he could see his own reflection in them. They looked down, quickly scanning over the picture and back up again to meet his, reflecting no shock whatsoever. This told a seasoned cop three things for sure. One, she had seen this guy before, but unless she actually said she did, he knew he couldn’t rely on this to save this interrogation for him. Two, this wasn’t the first dead body she had seen, and three, she’d obviously had some experience practicing how to react to both. He couldn’t help the pang of nervousness that hit his gut as he visualized his perfect arrest record going down the toilet.

Calmly, she answered, “Well, I’m no detective, detective, but this looks to me like he committed suicide.” Did he just see the hint of a smile? No, she’s obviously too smart to give herself away now. She wouldn’t do that.

“Yes, It does LOOK like a suicide, doesn’t it? He answered. “Cleverly done, to say the least. The pills, the bathroom, the underwear, you’d think he just gave up on life, end of story, case closed, but what’s interesting is what you can’t see in the picture….four past convictions and one pending, but from what the papers say the case is looking good for him this time around, his lawyer almost has the prosecution’s little star witness discredited.. Grilled her pretty bad on the stand a few days ago….”

“ Yes, he must be very proud…..five years old….I heard she was crying……” she said quietly, her eyes looked down a moment, then back up again. First sign of feeling….interesting, he thought…now we’re getting somewhere. He contemplated bringing up the black envelopes found at the scene…but decided not to. Too risky.

“There are also a few other things these photos don’t show“ he continued, pouncing on the opportunity, “They also don’t show the fresh tattoo on his forehead, just hours old….or the icing on the cake….they don’t show the effects the pills that were given to him BEFORE he took the ones seen in the photos here……the ones that managed to chemically castrate him in such a way that his genitals had shrunk to the size of a peanut. I think that alone would depress a man to the point of suicide in no time, what do
3

you think about that?” the detective said, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled a gorgeous smile, making him almost forget for a moment they were on opposite sides. “Well, I suppose, assuming, of course, they weren’t that size to begin with.”

“Funny,” he said, not smiling at all, though he could swear he heard a chuckle coming from the other side of the two-way mirror behind him, where 2 judges, his captain, and a very prominent political figure stood in audience. “Care to tell me what the tattoo said ?”

He examined her dark eyes, the way her wavy hair seemed to cascade down her shoulders, and not one strand out of place. He wasn’t sure why, but glancing down to observe her hands moving slowly, and gracefully across the table to the photo caught his attention and made him think a second. Something was strange about her hand…..

She picked up the picture and made a theatrical show out of examining it for a moment. Then she put it down calmly and replied, “I’d love to, officer, but unfortunately, I can’t. The floor seems to be blocking my view.”

Now he was becoming annoyed. If she was so clever, didn’t she know he was trying to protect her? Didn’t she know he has deliberately asking her easy questions so she could say “no”, get out of here, and they could both go on with their lives? He pushed away the weird feeling she was trying to tell him something with all this, and, to keep the show going for the suits, tossed another picture on the table.

“Can you see it now?”, he asked, faking a sneer.

She looked down at the new picture of Jerry’s pale, tearstained face, his mouth slightly agape, eyes closed, which looked otherwise like a normal face…..save for the word “pedophile” freshly tattooed on his forehead. She looked back up, apparently not fazed, and replied, “Well, I suppose you should be interrogating tattoo artists instead, then?”

“Perhaps you could tell me who to start with.”

“Nope, sorry, never had one.”

After spending a split second submitting to the male in him and wishing like hell he could find out, the detective snapped himself out of it and frowned at her. She was getting to him. And what’s worse, she knew she was getting to him, and he hated it.

“Well, it’s funny you should mention that, because Jerry was, in fact, a tattoo artist….and judging from the way the tattoo was applied and the ink on his hands would suggest he did it himself….”

He watched her expression carefully for some hint of a giveaway.

“….or someone went through a great deal of effort to make it look that way, at least.” he finished boldly, staring into her eyes for something to give her away… anything at all. He felt desperation coming on.
4

Her hands had returned to the table for another piece of paper, and slowly began making more origami, yet in the same manner as before, her dark eyes, looking directly into his the whole time…

Oh, that’s wonderful, he thought, now frustrated as hell, why don’t you make a tree this time?

He decided to go right for the throat this time around, and managed a stern, cold tone-

“Did you do this?” he said, pointing at the photos…..”Answer!” He demanded, his cool now flying right out the window.

She had never taken her eyes from his.

“Why detective, I was certain all your technological procedures had proven he’d done it to himself.”

He stared at her, anger and admiration welling up inside him as she never flinched, smiled or blinked.

“…but, to answer your question, detective, no, I didn’t.”

There was something there… something in the way she had just said “I”…..but what?

Dammit, he thought. Great show for the suits. 22 years, flawless arrest record, gone. She was solid. Flawless. Without anything she could give him, he had no proof to keep her any longer. Damn, he thought again, once again, we have the law to thank for protecting both the innocent and the guilty.

He knew she was guilty of something… he knew it.

He could see it all, playing before him like a movie…The despicable Jerry Stubbs and his horrible behavior towards little girls, him getting away with it, now this second time, coming home to have a beer with this woman, her lovely dark eyes settling on him…her, despite her small form somehow, perhaps with help, holding him down, or perhaps using the lovely form nature gave her to lure him into a chair or something and tie him down…feeding him what he thought was ecstasy to lighten the mood, at the same time slipping the pills of unknown origin into his mouth… and watching him writhing in pain while something bad happened slowly below to the part of his body that had ruined nobody knew how many young, innocent lives….he saw her tattooing the signature on his forehead….smiling as she did it…watching Jerry whine and beg to be released…..and after she’d left,….Jerry just couldn’t take it anymore…..

“Well, detective,” she spoke suddenly, rising to her feet, and, as if she’d read his thoughts, “ It’s been lovely to meet you, but as the law dictates, unless you can provide some sort of proof to hold me, I really have a hair appointment to make in the morning.”

He hated her….but he also loved her. She was going to get away. Pursuing any further would be pointless…and at this point, unless he could accuse her… unlawful. He had to let her go…

As the detective stared ahead at the wall behind where she had been sitting, he was torn. He wished he could grab her and sit her into the chair and somehow, make her confess. But he also wanted more than that to shake her hand, hug her, kiss her. He felt her look at him as she glided past, her expensive
5

high heels clicking on the floor as she walked past him, and the male in him took over again a split second as he breathed in her perfume, but before he had had time to snap himself out again, she was out the door, and gone.

Knowing the hell to pay that would come from the captain and the other suits, he braced him self as he heard footsteps thudding into the interrogation room.

As the room exploded into argument around him, the politician had more to say than any of them, and was unmistakably the loudest. As he yelled and carried on in a manner quite unbecoming a political figure, the two judges remained silent and fearful, and his captain did his best to defend him, but also glaring at him with a “hell to pay” look in his eyes.

“How could you do this? What if she’s guilty? Can’t you hold her here pending questioning or something? Captain, this is unacceptable! I demand something be done immediately! Get her back here at once!”

The detective recognized the shaky tone in the politician’s voice, 22 years on the force and now a nearly-perfect arrest record still stood for something…this politician had worries….perhaps a reason to be afraid.

The detective’s gaze fell to the table and he stared, unable to look at anything else….and had to smile.

The politician stormed out, the two judges close behind, and the captain, long since out of patience and a red face to prove it followed them all out, muttering the common word so many others did after being graced with politician Ronald Lesueur’s presence: “asshole.”

So goes the first homicide of Karma Incarnate, he thought. It will only get worse from here. Maybe Karma Inc goes down, maybe they won’t. But he decided to be there, no matter what the outcome. He looked down and smiled at what she had left him, no longer surprised at many things she was capable of.

A row of neatly folded origami animals sat on the table before him… and the very last…no longer to his shock or surprise… on the table on it’s spot closest to the door, an origami tree stood on it’s own.

He smiled. Gathered his coat, and left the silent room.

He stepped out into the cold night air feeling unusually upbeat and carefree. He had done it.

Wonderfully done, he thought, passing a dark alley, quite the actress.

He thought he could hear her lovely voice say thank you, but perhaps it was the wind. A voice he both hated and loved.

He slowed as he passed a limousine that undoubtedly belonged to the politician and judges, who, seconds later stormed out of the building behind him, complaining to his colleagues as loudly as possible and threatening several knowingly futile lawsuits against the police department.

6

He backed into the darkness of the alley to remain unseen. Avoiding a face off with them would be wise at this point.

Though his eyes widened a bit, they were not surprised by the large envelopes that changed hands between Ronald and the two judges. He’d expected it a while.

Ronald Lesueur. Politician extraordinaire. Liar. Cheater. Embezzler, and wife-beating loser. He’d learned a lot from the black envelopes he’d been receiving lately.

Ronald Lesueur. The man responsible for many sickness outbreaks and deaths of local residents no thanks to the dangerous chemicals he’d authorized to be dumped into the local river.

Ronald Leusuer. Who’s last name used to be Stubbs, before he changed to fit into the political world. Who had paid a great deal to those judges and many others to see his younger brother acquitted of charges against little girls.

As Politician Lesueur’s high-priced company left him, he stood next to his limousine door impatiently and lit a cigarette, pausing only a moment to shout insults at the driver, who hurried out and ran around the limo to open the door for him. Too busy to look at whom he was insulting, he settled into the back seat as the door was closed behind him.

After the driver shut the door she turned her lovely dark eyes toward the shadows of the dark alley to pause, and smiled as she tipped her hat… to no one in particular.

Ah, he thought. Now her hand no longer looked strange, as he saw the wedding ring he’d bought her eleven years ago glisten under the streetlight. His hand instinctively went to his own ring and began to twirl it as he moved out of the shadows and began to walk away into the night.

He heard the familiar click of her expensive high heels as the driver walked calmly around the limo and pulled it away down the street and out of sight.

After this many years of marriage they knew what each other were thinking….

They were thinking a good heart and perfect arrest record meant nothing if the guilty never stayed behind bars. They were thinking every little girl deserved to be innocent for a long as possible. They were thinking hundreds of sick people would soon be cared for by the best doctors money could buy…that two judges would soon know the meaning of a bad situation when they were sentenced to time in their own prisons…….and most importantly, right now….

…They were thinking Ronald Lesueur was in for one hell of a night.

THE END

MISTER MOONEY’S STORY TIME

Scene 1

(Open on a hospital office, one young man, sitting behind a desk across from a much older one sitting in a chair)

Mr. Mooney: “Fired?”

Dr. Jarvis: “Yes, I know this comes as a shock, after all, everyone here loves you. Especially the kids in Ward C. They’ve really brightened up since your arrival here….The truth is, there’s been talk. Not from us, but from some of the parents of the kids in Ward C. They are concerned as to what is actually going on during story time.”

Mr. Mooney: “What? Just what do they think is going on?

Dr. Jarvis: “Well, you do lock the door–”

Mr. Mooney: (interrupting) “–To keep the butterflies in.”

Dr. Jarvis: “And their parents get nervous about what they aren’t able to see–I’m sorry, did you say butterflies?”

Mr. Mooney: “Well, a child’s imagination is a great and powerful thing…….”

Dr. Jarvis: “Oh, right. Imagination….of course. Well can you tell me what happens between you and a locked room full of kids?”

Mr. Mooney: “Story time, two completely innocent hours of storytelling. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Dr. Jarvis: “And why not?”

Mr. Mooney: “Why, the same reason you never tell anyone about the best dream you ever had in your life…because you want to have it again, of course.…All those kids in Ward C have left is their hopes and dreams. We should nurture them, make them grow….it could be the very cure to their conditions, you know.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Ummmm, I see……Well, no, actually I don’t. I’m telling you the parents of the kids in Ward C want me to let you go. They feel there may be something dangerous or improper going on in that room when you close that door. Furthermore, no amount of reading stories is going to change the outcome of what lies ahead for them. All we can do at this point is make them as comfortable as possible, and you seem to be doing that for the kids, but not for the parents, and the parents pay the hospital bills, so……..

Mr. Mooney: “Alright, If you’d like me to go, I can’t stop you. Besides, It’s not like the kids can’t have story time without me. Just do me one small favor.”

Dr. Jarvis: “And what’s that?”

Mr. Mooney: “Just believe in them, with everything you have. Trust them. If not all the time, at least while you’re there with them…..Please? Can you do that?”

Dr. Jarvis: (annoyed and barely paying attention) “Of course, Mr. Mooney.”

Mr. Mooney: “Thank you. Please tell them I said goodbye.”

Dr. Jarvis: (not looking up from his paperwork) “Sure.”

`
Scene 2

(Open on Mr. Mooney’s kitchen, he’s cooking breakfast. Old swing music is playing in the background. The phone rings. Wiping his old, wrinkled arthritic hands on a towel on his shoulder, Mr. Mooney picks it up.)

Mr. Mooney: “Hello?……..Hello? Is anyone there?”

Mrs. Beasley: “Mr. …….Mr. Mooney?”

Mr. Mooney: “Yes, This is Mr. Mooney……Who is this please?”

Mrs. Beasley: “Hello, ….This is Mrs. Beasley, the new story time reader at St. Michael’s Children’s Hospital–Well, I was the story time reader…..Um,…Well….. that is…..I’m sure I don’t have to tell you….um….that the children are…are rather special, aren’t they?”

Mr. Mooney: (proudly)Absolutely. Especially, that little Jamie. She’s one of my favorites….Loves butterflies, you know.”

Mrs. Beasley: “Yes, Mr. Mooney, she does, and since you’ve mentioned it, I could swear I saw one flutter right by while I was reading to them a couple of days ago, but of course, that’s impossible, Ward C is on the 6th floor and the windows don‘t open.….and, little Hunter, he’s supposed to be bedridden, right?”

Mr. Mooney: “Well, his leukemia is in its final stages……”

Mrs. Beasley: “Well, I came back from the restroom, and I saw grass stains on his knees and feet, Mr. Mooney, I swear I did… grass stains……

Mr. Mooney: “Don’t worry, Mrs. Beasley, I’m sure it was just their imagination, now I really must go, I have bacon on the stove. Good day to you.”

Mrs. Beasley: “Of course, I just….wait, did you just say their imagination?……Mr. Mooney?…. Mr. Mooney? ….Hello?”

Scene 3

(Open on Mr. Mooney sitting in a high-backed chair, reading a copy of “The Chronicles of Narnia.” The phone rings.)

Dr. Jarvis: “Hello? Mr. Mooney?”

Mr. Mooney: “Oh, Hello, Dr. Jarvis. How are you? Hospital still running in tip-top shape? Oh, of course it is, I’m sure of it, making you administrator was the best choice those suits ever made, I’ll tell you—”

Dr. Jarvis: “Mr. Mooney, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must be brief, I have another meeting with the parents of the kids in Ward C in five minutes. Mr. Mooney, I wonder if you would consider coming back to the hospital to resume your position of story time reader?”

Mr. Mooney: “What?…..

Dr. Jarvis: “Mr. Mooney, I‘ll be as frank as I can. While you were here, I had noticed some significant readings in the patient’s stats, for example, Hunter seemed to be actually gaining muscle-mass, I can’t explain it, and Jamie had nearly a full head of hair, despite the effect the treatments should have had on her, but….but…Mr. Mooney it’s blond!”

Mr. Mooney: (chuckling)“Blond, you say? Well, heh, heh, I’ll be…..”

Dr. Jarvis: “Yes Mr. Mooney, platinum blond, but you know as well as I do, that before she started her chemotherapy treatments her hair was as black as it could possibly be before it fell out.…..But, it’s not just Hunter and Jamie, all the children seemed to be displaying signs of recuperation. I just don’t understand it. They’re all diagnosed as terminal……”

Mr. Mooney: “You’re saying “seemed” and “had” a lot, Dr. Jarvis.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Well yes, it seems, that just recently, the past 2 days, in fact, that these, uh, advances seem to be reversing themselves rather quickly. The children who showed manageable blood counts are slipping back, as are Hunter’s muscle-mass, and Jamie’s hair. So will you come back? Keep reading the kids stories?”

Mr. Mooney: “Of course Dr. Jarvis.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Tomorrow?”

Mr. Mooney: “Tomorrow, Dr. Jarvis? Why so soon?”

Dr. Jarvis: “Well, to be honest, Mr. Mooney, we’ve gone through 3 story time readers since you left last month. Those children seem to be hazing them pretty bad. The last one was actually convinced she heard a dinosaur roaring.”

Mr. Mooney: “Little Gregory likes dinosaurs.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Uh, right, so you may want to tell him to turn the volume down on some of his toys. Anyway, tomorrow, then, Mr. Mooney?

Mr. Mooney: “Of course.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Excellent. The kids will be thrilled. See you then.”

Scene 4

(Open on hospital hallway outside ward C. A group of parents are waiting anxiously outside)

Mrs. Klein: “Oh, Hello, Dr. Jarvis…..we, uh, didn‘t expect to see you here today.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Hello, Mrs. Klein. I just came down to see how Mr. Mooney was coming along with the kids. Judging by the way everyone’s huddled at the door, I guess I’m not the only one who’s curious.”

Mrs. Klein: “Well, uh, yes. We just wanted to see if everything was alright.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Everything is fine, I’m sure….But, I’ll just have a look-see….I brought a key. Everyone have a seat in the other room, I‘ll be back in a moment.” (Dr. Jarvis goes into the room.)

(A few moments later, Dr. Jarvis comes out of the room, face is ashen, and sweating all over, dirty, and a leaf in his tousled hair. )

Mrs. Klein: “Dr. Jarvis, what took so long? I thought you were going to take a peek……….Dr. Jarvis, are you alright? You look pale.”

Dr. Jarvis: “I…..I’m fine…..I just…had to find my way back…..I saw…….I mean, I thought I saw…….”

Mrs. Klein: “Saw what?…….Find your way back? From the next room?…Are you alright?…..Dr. Jarvis?”

Dr. Jarvis: (dazed) “Yes?…Oh, um, nothing…..right……Mr. Mooney and the kids are fine. There‘s no need to check on them again. They….They’re all much, much happier than any of us could ever have imagined….now if you‘ll all excuse me, I‘m going down to the 3rd floor.”

Mrs. Klein: “Wait, Dr. Jarvis, your office is on the 4th floor, the psychiatric ward is on the 3rd floor……Dr.?”

(Dr. Jarvis turns and starts down the hall. The door opens and Mr. Mooney peeks outside, and unfazed by the stares of the anxious parents, jogs after him and tugs his arm.)

Dr. Jarvis: (jumps) “Oh, you surprised me, Mr. Mooney! I was just on my way to the 3rd floor…..I have uh….business there.”

Mr. Mooney: “There’s no reason to go to the 3rd floor, doctor. You’re perfectly sane. Hunter saw you run back into the forest and Jamie tried to tell you everything was ok, but I think she startled you more instead. She told me to tell you she was sorry about that.”

Dr. Jarvis: “Was she the.…..the uh….. talking unicorn?”

Mr. Mooney: “Yes, doctor.”

Dr. Jarvis: “I see….well, I did wonder how it knew my name….and why you keep the door locked…..how….how are you able to do all this?”

Mr. Mooney: “It’s not me, really. Never has been. It’s the children. I told you, a child’s imagination is a very powerful thing. Now imagine that times fourteen children…fourteen children who have nothing more to do all day than daydream, and who all want nothing more than to not be sick, even for a little while. I guess that’s what you get. An entire world, in one little room. Believing in them, in what you’re seeing, helps a lot. That’s what makes you able to see so much of it. The other storytellers could only see parts of it because they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. The child in them had long since gone. Me, I guess I’m just a big kid. I believe in dragons, pixies, faeries, and mermaids and all sorts of other things. The interesting part is that the kids are improving. That means that along with all that imagination, somewhere in their heads is also the power to make themselves well, doesn’t it?”

Dr. Jarvis: (Smiling weakly) “Self-healing…..best medicine of all…we may definitely be on to something, Mr. Mooney….now if you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down for a while…it’s been a long day.”

Mr. Mooney: “Of course, doctor. …See you tomorrow.”
(Mr. Mooney turns to leave)

Dr. Jarvis: “Actually, wait…..Mr. Mooney?”

Mr. Mooney: “Yes?”

Dr. Jarvis: “I….uh…I don’t think another hour of story time will hurt, do you? Just to welcome you back?”

Mr. Mooney: “That would be great…..but….what about the parents?”

Dr. Jarvis: “I’ll handle them….and Mr. Mooney, careful with that door (Smiles)…you’ll need to keep the butterflies in.”

(Dr. Jarvis ushers the parents down the hall and around the corner as Mr. Mooney opens the door to Ward C. A small group of butterflies flutter out, and disappear, and he looks back and moment, and smiles as he steps inside)

Narrator: What if the power to heal even the most fatal illnesses lay not in a bottle, syringe, or machine, but deep in the recesses of our own minds, silently awaiting the right method of release? Knowing this, could you ever again have the heart tell a child, “It’s only your imagination?”

HERE’S TO SMALL VICTORIES

*whirrrrr..crack!*

That bitch.

She had this all planned out, I bet. From beginning to end.

Seriously, I can’t help she was such a goody-two-shoes. If she had just accepted the way things are, just accepted that the way I run this hospital is law, life would have been so much easier for her.

But, no. She had to push it. Push me.
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Test my limits.

So what if I’ve skimmed a little off the top now and then? Everyone does, right? We’ve all sworn in front of patients, been less than empathetic with our diagnoses, and occasionally charged a bit more than quoted. I mean come on, we have mortgages to pay. Even the hospital Administrator makes an off-color judgment once in a while, and, of course, as the Assistant Administrator, I have made a point to document it, you know, just for a bit of insurance.

So she saw the way things were and protested a bit, which was mildly annoying, but the day she saw me pocket a few shots of morphine and some hospital supplies from the storage room, it got serious. I mean, with her track record of being “little miss morals” she couldn’t’ be trusted.

So I did my duty as Assistant Administrator, reported them missing, and turned her in for theft of hospital property. After all, she would have turned me in first, right? I know her type. On top of it all, hospital policy clearly states that, she, as a witness, had a responsibility to report me. I couldn’t risk that. So after all the debates, the troubles, and now the potential theft problems, one thing was clearshe had to go. It took a little footwork, and some extra effort to set her up. And though her co-workers seemed to love her, I knew better. They’d thank me for this later. A little arm-twisting and round about job-threatening, and suddenly I had all the witnesses I needed. Why, the hospital Administrator himself was even under her creepy spell. He was planning on promoting her, the old fool. I was able to change his mind easily by cashing in my “insurance card” on him.

To keep up appearances, I recommended “the works”-formal charges, drug abuse tests, psychological evaluation, and hopefully, firing. She sat there with that freaky blank expression of hers, and let it all happen without a word. Good for her. Now she was getting the picture. Considering the damage she could have done, it had to be this way. After all, she doesn’t even belong on this floor. For god’s sake she transferred here from the morgue! The morgue!

Those ghouls down there have no business around the living patients.

*whirrrrrcrack!*

Ghouls. That’s exactly what they were. With their freaky tools, and vacant personalities, and always smelling of strange chemicals. Everyone was well aware they liked to play around mixing chemicals and finding new creative ways to do their jobs. What a bunch of weirdos.
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And every few years one of them was brought up from their dungeon to work amongst the living as part of that damned “department exchange” program. I’ve always hated that damned program.

This time, it was her who came up to the land of the living. Her, who never belonged…and who was never welcome.

I still remember the look on her creepy little Wednesday Adams faceno shock, no fear, no painnothing. She just nodded and answered the questions she was asked. Her eyes appeared to realize the inevitable long before her verdict was given by the jury of her co-working peers. As they laid down the decision, she seemed to have already expected it and accepted it long ago: The truth is whatever a bunch of us decide it is. Since the drug test had come up negative, it had been “anonymously suggested” she was selling the missing hospital supplies. I only wish that jury of her peers had had the good sense to change their guilty expressions as they each bore witness. These people just didn’t know what was good for them. But I knew. I’d show them. And when my turn as “witness” came around, I did just that. Hell, (*chuckle*) by the time I was through with her, she’d “borrowed” those medical supplies herself, and damn near burned down the hospital.

Then came the verdict. Those damn guilty looks again. But no firing, unfortunately. So, back to the morgue she went with the rest of those freaks.

And just like thatthings were back to normal. Just the way I like them.

*whirrrrr.crack!…snap!*

Two months went by, and my normal days were lived to the fullest. And two days ago, I decided, it was safe to celebrate.

I shouldn’t have been bold enough to order that wine delivered to my officeI should have paid more attention to the faceless intern that brought it, (But why would I have? Those people are nothing to me) I should have recognized that faint smell of strange chemicals.and I definitely should have paid more attention to my glass.but I didn’t.

And now here I lay. Unable to speak, unable to move, but more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. Because even though my body died from the sudden heart attack, my five senses still work perfectly.

I could smell the strange chemicals around the room, I felt the excruciating pain of my vital organs being removed and harvested for donation (Damn, I wish I hadn’t signed that donor card) hear the loud whirring of the bone saw as it cut my bones away piece by piece, and I could taste the chemical fed to me at regular intervals to make sure this horrible “awareness” lasted through this whole procedure

*whirrrrrrrrr..crack!…snap!*

I’ve gotten to watch the whole thing, unable to scream, unable to protest, to watch her take way too much delight in preparing my body for cremation. Watch that horrible, freaky Wednesday Adams face smile a great smile of delight as she takes my body apart and burns each piece in the cremation chamber.

That bitch. That clever bitch.

I thought my nightmare was over when she harvested my organs back at the hospital morgue, but who knew after I had her demoted, she’d gotten a second job?

A job at the funeral home.