PodTales 2020 Showcase Sellection,Podcast Strange/Love: The Loser

Strange/Love: The Loser

Text reading “PodTales 2020 Showcase: A Virtual Audio Fiction Festival”, Photo of Emily Strand, Photo of William J. Meyer, Episode Poster for The Loser, Show Art for Strange/Love, Text reading “Strange/Love: The Loser Written by William J. Meyer and Performed by Emily Strand”

Strange/Love: The Loser

Description: When Jordan is invited to a rich and popular girl’s birthday party on the same day as her own birthday, her new best friends have a cruel surprise in store. But there’s something about Jordan none of them know, and their wicked scheme could lead to a disaster of paranormal proportions.

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Learn more about the show on their website: http://www.strangelovepodcast.com

Follow William J. Meyer on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/bywilliamjmeyer

Follow Emily Strand on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/ekcstrand

Support the show!

Support William J.Meyer’s fiction by buying him a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/bywilliamjmeyer

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Head on over to the PodTales 2020 Discord to share your love for the show: https://www.podtales.org/discord

Transcript

Strange/Love, “The Loser”

Written and Produced by William J. Meyer

Read and performed by Emily Strand

Transcript

WILLIAM: This episode is tagged “clean.” Though it can get a little stressful.

JORDAN: They hate me. I’m not going to cry for them.

[Theme music and heartbeats]

WILLIAM: The universe has an eternal heartbeat. Each pulse quiet, and across remote dimensions. Though seldom heard, when a beat sounds, there can arise— a strange love.

[Music shifting]

WILLIAM: Hi, this is William. Thanks for joining me today. I’d like to tell you a story of Strange/Love. The story in this episode is: “The Loser.”

[Music fading]

[Prehistoric jungle ambience, and dinosaur squawking]

NARRATOR: A land of shadow and fog. Blue shadow. Pink fog. She crouched in the blue shadow and watched the pink fog. She was hiding from dinosaurs.

[Heavy dinosaur footsteps]

NARRATOR: Not true dinosaurs, mind you, but herky-jerky ones. Lumbering, tail-dragging. Always angry. Always hungry. Rubbery. Smelled funny. Eyes afire. Mouths agape.

[Flying dinosaur wings flapping]

NARRATOR: She captured the oldest known bird, snatched it out of the air with her teeth—

[Jordan chomping and biting the flying dinosaur]

NARRATOR: Clutched it tightly in both hands as it squawked its last.

[Dinosaur squawk]

NARRATOR: Archaeopteryx. Not that she could pronounce it. 

JORDAN: Arkeyopturtrucks.

NARRATOR: But she liked the taste. 

[Jordan eating the flying dinosaur]

NARRATOR: She huddled low under its airplane wings with its nosecone of a head dangling over her shoulder. She wore the nasty carcass as proof of her stalwart courage, even as she hid from the larger predators.

[Jordan eating the flying dinosaur]

NARRATOR: She squinted into the fog. Its fluff rolled near. 

[Wind gusting]

NARRATOR: The pink fog was pink like candy hearts. Candy hearts inscribed with white, powdery, cupid words promising clumsy affection and bad puns. She frowned. Squinted. Someone— was laughing.

[Dinosaur laughing]

NARRATOR: Was it dinosaurs. Could dinosaurs laugh. 

[Dinosaur laughing multiplying]

NARRATOR: A second and a third chortle joined the first.

[Dinosaur laughing increasing]

NARRATOR: There was something scathing, perhaps insidious about those har-de-har-hars. 

[Synth music, dinosaur snorting]

NARRATOR: They were all around her, now. There! A fourth and a fifth. Dino-mirth was not gregarious. She did not like it. 

[Heavy dinosaur footsteps]

NARRATOR: The cackles closed in— from every direction.

[Heavy dinosaur footsteps]

NARRATOR: She knew if she wanted to survive the night, she had better open her eyes.

[Dinosaur laughing increasing, low rumbling, toys shaking on a metal shelves]

NARRATOR: The toys on the shelves ceased shaking. An empty Sunkist bottle rolled to a stop.

[Soda bottle rolling to a stop, country night ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Jordan lay on the sleeping bag, surrounded by her friends, her very best friends. The girls slept in the romper room, separated by boundaries not drawn on maps, but defined by the arrangement of their sleeping bags.

Jordan looked up. In the dark she met the upside-down glossy gaze of George Michael. They shared a quiet moment. She closed her left eye, and opened it again. She closed her right. She pretended he was dancing. Left, right. Left, right.

Jordan got up on her elbows. She looked around at the sleeping bags frosted by moonlight.

[Moonlight gleaming]

NARRATOR: There was Cynthia of the golden hair. Meghan of the pierced ears. Sara of the designer glasses. Patricia of the it’s-not-Halloween-but-I’m-going-to-wear-a-cat-nose-and-whiskers-anyway. And Clarissa. 

[Crystal gleaming]

NARRATOR: Perfect, perfect Clarissa. 

[Synth music]

NARRATOR: Since everyone was breathing so darn heavy, Jordan rightly guessed that they were merely pretending to be asleep. But why? Jordan laid back down. She folded her hands under her neck. She closed her eyes. The dinosaurs laughed again.

[Dinosaur laughing]

NARRATOR: But now she wasn’t sleeping.

[Dinosaur laughing, girls laughing]

NARRATOR: Jordan opened her eyes.

[Girls laughing]

NARRATOR: The five little girls were on hand and knee, staring down at Jordan in a semi-circle.

[Girls laughing]

NARRATOR: Jordan looked at her friends. From face to face to face to face to face. Her very best friends.

[Girl laughing]

JORDAN: Good morning?

NARRATOR: She asked, rubbing her eyes. The girls giggled in unison, like a hydra high on nitrous oxide. 

[Girls laughing]

GIRL: It’s three a.m., silly! 

NARRATOR: Hissed one of the serpent-heads. 

GIRL: Not morning!

NARRATOR: Snickered another. Jordan rubbed her eyes again.

[Pause]

[Music transition]

NARRATOR: Because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The balloons, the helium balloons—

[Helium balloons inflating]

NARRATOR: The cake, the chocolate cake—

[Cake being eaten]

NARRATOR: —the gifts, the gifts wrapped by parents and not the attending children— 

[Gifts being wrapped]

NARRATOR: —all impressed with the birthday girl’s name— all of it lay before Jordan, arrayed as though for her birthday, and everyone simply got the name wrong.

[Girls walking at a birthday party]

NARRATOR: In fact, it was Jordan’s birthday, too. But her mother couldn’t afford balloons, a waist-high cake, or a new pony hidden in the barn with a narrow plastic funnel strapped on its head with an elastic band so her daughter could pretend it was a unicorn. No.

[Pony neighing]

[Music fading]

NARRATOR: Emma drove Jordan home from the grocery store in her pick-up truck. 

[Emma starting the pick-up truck and driving away]

NARRATOR: They bounced along the country road. A glass star swung from the rearview mirror.

[Light delicately striking a crystal star]

NARRATOR: Light ricocheted off its convex facets and mottled mother and daughter. The star dappled their cheeks with rainbow freckles. 

[Light delicately striking a crystal star]

NARRATOR: Jordan sat far to the right and played with her toy dinosaurs on the seat between her and Emma.

JORDAN: Rawr!

POLICE RADIO: 10-11 in progress.

NARRATOR: Said a crackly voice on the radio.

JORDAN and EMMA: Dog chase! 

NARRATOR: Mother and daughter said in unison.

EMMA: So, Jordan.

NARRATOR: Smiled Emma. 

EMMA: Want a birthday party? Saturday? Hmmm? How ’bout it?

NARRATOR: Jordan did not look up from the triceratops devouring the stegosaurus. There were no herbivores here.

JORDAN: No.

EMMA: Hmmm?

NARRATOR: Asked Emma, confused. They pulled into their driveway.

[Emma driving the pick-up truck into their gravel and dirt driveway, light delicately striking a crystal star]

NARRATOR: Jordan stole a glance at the lake through the gaggle of trees. The water glistened between the leaves.

[A lake gently lapping against the shore]

NARRATOR: She turned to the string of blue and red lights lining the top of their motorhome. Jordan scratched her head. 

JORDAN: Why don’t you ever take down the lights? 

NARRATOR: She asked.

[Emma parking the pick-up truck]

EMMA: Because this way— it’s always Christmas.

NARRATOR: Answered Emma with a grin. 

JORDAN: People think we’re weird.

NARRATOR: Said Jordan under her breath.

EMMA: Well, we are weird. 

NARRATOR: Answered Emma. She parked the pick-up and left the keys in the ignition.

[Keys jangling, synth music transition, country morning ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Jordan sat with a bowl of cereal, pushing her spoon in circles through the milk and the honey flakes.

[Jordan pushing her spoon in her bowl]

NARRATOR: Emma opened a cupboard and put away the groceries.

[Emma opening a wooden cupboard and pulling groceries out of a paper bag]

JORDAN: I said no.

NARRATOR: Jordan repeated, adding a brisk:

JORDAN: Thank you.

EMMA: But Sweetie, why not?

JORDAN: Grrraahh.

NARRATOR: Grumbled Jordan.

JORDAN: I said don’t call me that.

EMMA: I forgot.

NARRATOR: Emma shrugged. She cleared her throat. 

[Emma clearing her throat]

EMMA: But Raptor-Face, why not? We could have it right here.

NARRATOR: Jordan smiled. She lifted her head. She glanced around the piles of unfolded laundry, the school books tumbling in three directions, and the tower of empty pizza boxes with membranes of cheese clinging to the underside of their floppy lids. Jordan’s smile retreated. 

JORDAN: Naw, that’s all right.

NARRATOR: She said. Emma folded up the paper grocery bags and put them in a drawer.

[Emma folding the paper bags, putting them in a drawer]

EMMA: Aw, don’t worry about the money.

NARRATOR: She rubbed the short-cropped hair at the base of her neck as she leaned back against the counter.

EMMA: If you’re worried about the money.

NARRATOR: She added.

JORDAN: I said no!

[Jordan slamming her fist on the table, spilling milk from her bowl]

NARRATOR: Jordan slammed her fist down. Milk splashed and cereal spilled. She cringed, lifting her eyes up to her mother, careful to keep her look hooded under her brow. Emma sighed.

[Emma sighing]

EMMA: But, Raptor-Face, you never bring any of your friends home. And this way, they could all be here at once.

JORDAN: I don’t have any friends.

NARRATOR: Mumbled Jordan, and of course that wasn’t strictly true.

EMMA: Jordan— 

NARRATOR: Said Emma. Her daughter interrupted.

JORDAN: It’s Clarissa’s birthday on Saturday.

EMMA: Her birthday— is the same as yours?

NARRATOR: Jordan nodded slowly.

JORDAN: And she invited me and it’s a sleep-over and everything.

NARRATOR: Emma stood up straight.

EMMA: Oh, but that’s wonderful! See, you have friends.

NARRATOR: She grabbed a washcloth and took a step toward the dripping milk. A beep stopped her.

[Dripping milk, beeping police radio]

EMMA: One sec. 

NARRATOR: She said. Emma turned around and walked past the curtain at the end of the motorhome.

[Beeping police radio]

EMMA: Sweetie—

NARRATOR: She called from the other side.

EMMA: Stay in the house! Do your homework! Back in twenty! 

JORDAN: It’s summer!

NARRATOR: Shouted Jordan. 

[Low rumbling, shaking dishes]

NARRATOR: A low rumble rattled the dishes in the cupboards. The whole place shook. Jordan called back.

JORDAN: And I said don’t call me th—

NARRATOR: She saw her half-empty bowl dance away from her. She darted to catch it, but it was too late. It shimmied off the table and fell on the floor.

[Rattling bowl falling off table and shattering on the floor, spilling milk]

[Pause, music transition]

NARRATOR: Jordan wore her hand-me-down Easter dress and stood at the top of the stairs. Below her— an indoor fountain, three tables of sweets, a sea of balloons, a ginormous cake, and, behind the cake, a metropolis built of gifts. She pretended it was all for her.

JORDAN: Thank you.

NARRATOR: She whispered.

[Squeaking toy horn, a bigwheel rolling across a hard floor]

NARRATOR: Clarissa’s younger brother spun in a wide circle at the base of the stairs, riding his bigwheel and licking a chocolate-vanilla-swirl ice cream cone. The top scoop fell off as he passed the center of the stairs. 

[Ice cream scoop falling on floor]

NARRATOR: He kept riding.

[Squeaking toy horn]

NARRATOR: A tawny puppy came skidding to a stop and mopped up the ice cream. 

[Puppy running on hard floor, then eating ice cream off floor]

NARRATOR: When it was finished it glared up at Jordan, tail wagging, head shaking. 

[Puppy shaking, collar jingling] 

NARRATOR: The big orange bow wrapped around its collar looked like a giant mutant monarch butterfly struggling for lift-off. Jordan grinned at the puppy.

[Puppy whining]

[Music ending]

CLARISSA: Thanks for coming!

NARRATOR: Said Clarissa, suddenly beside Jordan, her smile as bright as the crystal chandelier hanging over them.

[Chandelier gleaming throughout]

JORDAN: Thank you for inviting me.

NARRATOR: Mumbled Jordan. She could hardly breathe, sensing the ascending flock of the other girls. 

[Several light footsteps on a hard floor]

NARRATOR: They approached the mighty stair styled like an oyster and walked slowly up its steps. But instead of flapping wings lifting them to great heights, they spoke in a flutter of non-sequiturs.

GIRL: August.

GIRL: Pineapple.

GIRL: String.

GIRL: Bicycle.

GIRL: Shoe.

GIRL: Dolphin.

NARRATOR: When the words stopped, Jordan found herself surrounded.

[Pendants and amulets gleaming and chiming]

NARRATOR: The patter and clink of their abundant pendants fell silent. Their necks proudly displayed the spoils of some charm war— gem, candy, and nautical. They were all smiling. All dressed impeccably. All crowned the royalty of imaginary kingdoms.

[Chandelier gleaming fades, country daytime ambience throughout]

CLARISSA: Of course.

NARRATOR: Said Clarissa, drawing Jordan’s attention back to her. 

CLARISSA: We’re all your very best friends now.

NARRATOR: She started to introduce all the girls with a toss of her gloved hand, but Jordan cut her off.

JORDAN: I know all your names.

NARRATOR: Jordan said in a rush— and it was true.

JORDAN: Cynthia. Meghan. Sara. Patricia.

NARRATOR: Her head bobbed up and down as she looked at each in turn. The girls beamed and canted their heads back, the sonic reverberation of their names as warm as any spotlight.

[Three spotlights turning on in succession, girls walking down stairs]

NARRATOR: All six girls descended the stairs, Clarissa at the head of their loose chevron, and the many charms tinkled once more.

[Pendants and amulets gleaming and chiming, synth music]

NARRATOR: As they reached the gift table, Jordan said to Clarissa:

JORDAN: I brought you this.

NARRATOR: She handed over a small box wrapped in newspaper.

[Small box rattling]

NARRATOR: Clarissa never looked at the box, but instantly tossed it onto the gift table, where it disappeared into the gap between two other presents. 

[Small box hitting bigger boxes]

NARRATOR: The next largest box, judging by its size, could have been a toy oven.

[Synth music ending]

CLARISSA: C’mon then!

[Pendants and amulets gleaming and chiming, girls running on hard floor]

NARRATOR: Clarissa took Jordan’s hand, and all the girls ran off through the stalactite streamers and the balloons, the helium balloons, and then Jordan stared in disbelief at the string quartet lodged in the corner as they struggled through their version of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”

[String quartet warming up, off-key]

NARRATOR: Tossing a glance back at the birthday cake, Jordan heard her stomach growl. 

[Girls running on hard floor, Jordan’s stomach growling]

NARRATOR: But when she looked down at her creamy dress flopping around her— 

[Jordan’s flopping dress]

NARRATOR: —she lost her appetite— for she discovered a brown stain spreading out beneath her arm. Jordan grimaced.

[Pause]

[Cassette tape being loading into cassette player, piano playing, cassette tape rewinding, piano playing off-key]

EMMA (Singing): Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.

NARRATOR: Emma sang from the other room. 

[Piano fading, country morning ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Jordan fidgeted at the small, lopsided table. 

[Chair scraping on floor]

NARRATOR: Emma appeared from behind the curtain holding a small plate with a single chocolate cupcake. Eleven candles were wedged into the thick frosting. The cupcake strained against its paper limits.

[Burning candles]

JORDAN: Why is your hair like that?

NARRATOR: Asked Jordan.

EMMA: Hmmm? Oh, ha, well, last night, some wise-acre turned off the Christmas lights and I couldn’t see where I was going, hit a tree. How ‘bout that?

NARRATOR: Jordan ducked low.

[Chair scraping on floor]

EMMA: I’m fine, I’m fine.

NARRATOR: Emma laughed softly. Jordan watched the bouquet of candles melt into the frosting.

EMMA: Quick, blow ’em out!

NARRATOR: Emma shouted.

JORDAN: Ma! I’ll be late! Clarissa is waiting! I told you I didn’t want a party—

EMMA: Aw come now, it’s just you and me. You call this a party?

NARRATOR: Emma laughed again.

EMMA: Blow out the candles, quick!

NARRATOR: Jordan spat a little too much, but the candles did indeed go out. 

[Jordan spitting on candles, candles extinguishing] 

NARRATOR: She immediately grabbed at the blue, pink, and white wax to spread the liquid on her fingers so she could peel it off later.

EMMA: Wait now, wait now, let me.

NARRATOR: Cautioned Emma.

[Emma opening plastic bag]

EMMA: We have to save them.

NARRATOR: She gingerly collected the smoking candles and inhaled their pleasant fragrance. 

EMMA: Open it.

NARRATOR: She nodded at the small box wrapped in newspaper. Jordan peeled away two taped corners and wiggled the cover off.

[Jordan peeling paper off, wiggling small box cover off]

JORDAN: What the heck is it?

NARRATOR: Jordan asked. 

JORDAN: A goat?

EMMA: Very funny.

NARRATOR: Emma said, tasting the chocolate on the candle bottoms. 

[Emma licking chocolate off candles]

EMMA: They said her name is Maple Stirrup.

NARRATOR: Jordan looked the toy horse over but did not touch it. A third of her mane was gone. Crooked grin. Missing one of her green hooves. Her left ear— cracked.

JORDAN: They?

NARRATOR: Asked Jordan.

EMMA: The folks running the rummage sale.

NARRATOR: Emma answered.

EMMA: Like maple syrup, they said, but stirrup, you see, because— she’s a horse.

NARRATOR: Emma finished cleaning the candles and locked them in a ziplock bag.

[Emma licking chocolate off candles, dropping candles into plastic bag]

JORDAN: Yeah Mom I get it.

NARRATOR: Said Jordan.

JORDAN: Groooannn.

EMMA: No, not ‘groan.’ She’s Strawberry Shortcake’s horse.

NARRATOR: Emma said with a flourish, as if to establish the toy’s pedigree.

JORDAN: But I don’t even haaaaavvvve Strawberry Shortcake!

[Jordan closing the small box, music fading up]

NARRATOR: Said Jordan. She shut the lid of the box and pressed the tape down again. 

[Jordan pressing the tape down on the small box]

JORDAN: I’m gonna be late!

EMMA: But your cake!

JORDAN: I’ll eat in the truck. 

NARRATOR: Jordan replied. She snagged the cupcake in one hand and ran out the door.

[Jordan running out of mobile home, closing the door, music abruptly stopping]

[Pause]

[Prehistoric jungle ambience, heavy dinosaur footsteps, dinosaur snorting, dinosaur roaring and chomping, Jordan gasping, ghostly groaning, music resumes]

NARRATOR: Jordan gasped. Something bobbed toward her head. She flinched. The balloons, the helium balloons, well, they floated directly above Jordan and aggregated like vultures. She followed the strings of the balloons to find grins behind them, like imprisoned Cheshire cats. 

[Country night ambience throughout, girls laughing]

NARRATOR: The girls broke out of their semi-circle at three a.m., silly—

[Girl laughing]

NARRATOR: —and clustered together on the other side of the room. They sat on their knees—

[Girl laughing]

NARRATOR: —and surrounded something in the dark. 

[Girl laughing, girl snickering]

NARRATOR: They snickered and snorted as flashlights clicked on—

[Two plastic flashlights turning on in succession, light beams gleaming]

NARRATOR: —beams erratic, scintillating rays swinging to and fro, revealing the sneers of Pizzazz and the Misfits on the wall by the door. 

[Girls rustling on wooden floor]

NARRATOR: The girls’ rustling made Jordan uneasy. She preferred a laughing tyrannosaurus. Jordan peeled herself from her sleeping bag and crawled toward the other girls.

[Jordan crawling on hands on knees across wooden floor]

NARRATOR: Flashlights illuminated Clarissa from below as the birthday girl tore through wrapping paper in a frenzy.

[Clarissa tearing through wrapping paper]

JORDAN: I thought you were opening them tomorrow.

NARRATOR: Whispered Jordan. 

GIRL: Shhhh.

NARRATOR: Said one of the girls. Jordan could not recognize most of the gifts. Most of the gifts caught the light and sparkled in response. 

[Expensive gifts sparkling]

NARRATOR: Most of the gifts would be forgotten in a month.

CLARISSA: Is that everything?

NARRATOR: Wondered Clarissa. 

CLARISSA: Harumph!

GIRL: Here’s something!

[Girl digging through paper and gifts]

NARRATOR: Said another girl, digging deep into the compost of shredded paper and discarded ribbons. She handed a small box to Clarissa. It was sealed in newspaper. An ad for glazed ham.

GIRL: Is it from the gardener?

NARRATOR: Asked one of the girls.

GIRL: Or that bratty chef’s kid?

NARRATOR: Asked another. Clarissa ravaged the box with razored fingernails. 

[Clarissa unwrapping small box]

NARRATOR: The box popped open.

[Small box popping open]

NARRATOR: And Maple Stirrup fell out.

[Plastic toy horse falling on floor, flashlight beams gleaming]

NARRATOR: The clutch of search beams found their mark in unison. All flashlights turned on Maple Stirrup, pinning her to the floor with their harsh beams. The toy stared up at Jordan in accusation, its eyes wide in horror. With blatant disgust, Clarissa picked Maple Stirrup up by a single hoof. Cackles went ‘round.

[Girls laughing]

CLARISSA: But it’s not even new.

NARRATOR: Clarissa protested.

GIRL: I think it fell out of the garbage.

NARRATOR: Suggested someone. Clarissa turned and discovered Jordan watching. 

[Clarissa turning around on wooden floor]

CLARISSA: Oh, hello.

NARRATOR: Said Clarissa, her voice jolly but empty, as if she had never met Jordan before. 

CLARISSA: It says ‘To Jordan’ but I suppose you meant ‘From Jordan.’ Well, since you gave me a present, I have one for you.

[Clarissa standing]

NARRATOR: Clarissa stood and went to her make-up table. 

[Synth music, Clarissa walking to table, taking hand mirror off table, walking back to Jordan]

NARRATOR: She brought back a small, elegant hand mirror. 

[Hand mirror sparkling]

NARRATOR: The frame was shaped like the curly waves of the sea. The handle, like the tail of a mermaid. She offered it to Jordan. 

CLARISSA: For you.

NARRATOR: Said Clarissa. Jordan accepted the hand mirror. 

JORDAN: Thank you.

NARRATOR: She stammered, confused.

CLARISSA: No, not the mirror.

NARRATOR: Said Clarissa. 

CLARISSA: Go on. Look.

NARRATOR: The other girls turned off their flashlights. 

[Synth music abruptly stopping, five flashlights turning off in succession]

NARRATOR: They snickered in the dark. 

[Girls snickering]

NARRATOR: Jordan lifted the mirror. Her thumb grazed a small button on the handle. 

[Jordan activating button on hand mirror handle]

NARRATOR: They could hear the ocean. 

[Ocean waves on small speaker]

NARRATOR: Clarissa aimed her flashlight at Jordan’s face.

[Flashlight beam gleaming]

NARRATOR: Jordan blinked. She saw her reflection. A capital “L” and a capital “O.”

[Hand mirror glass movement] 

NARRATOR: Jordan ran a sweaty hand over her forehead. She looked down at her fingers, now smeared red and black. She smelled those fingers, unable to stop herself. She discovered a pleasant union of cherry and licorice. Jordan’s face contorted. Her vision blurred through tears. A low rumble filled the room. 

[Low rumbling, soda bottle spinning on floor] 

NARRATOR: An empty pop bottle spun across the floor. 

[Soda bottle rattling]

NARRATOR: A framed photo of Clarissa swung off the wall. 

[Framed photo falling off wall and breaking on floor]

NARRATOR: Shelves shook. 

[Metal shelves shaking]

NARRATOR: Toys fell. 

[Toys falling off shelves onto wooden floor]

NARRATOR: Ocean waves thundered.

[Synth drop]

NARRATOR: And the mirror in Jordan’s hand shattered.

[Hand mirror shattering]

NARRATOR: The other girls shrieked. 

[Girls shrieking]

NARRATOR: Jordan dropped the mirror—

[Hand mirror falling onto floor]

NARRATOR: And sprinted out of the room.

[Jordan running away]

NARRATOR: One by one the five girls peeked their heads out the door in Jordan’s wake as she ran into the bathroom half-way down the hall.

[Jordan opening bathroom door and entering, quiet crackling of white noise on radio]

NARRATOR: A small radio sitting on the counter had been left on, its volume low. 

[Jordan distraught breathing]

NARRATOR: Jordan stretched to reach the wide, steamed mirror above the radio— 

[Jordan stretching toward mirror]

NARRATOR: —perhaps someone had recently showered. She swept her right hand across the glass—

[Jordan wiping mirror]

NARRATOR: —to partially reveal her own murky reflection.

[Jordan distraught breathing, music transition, melancholy] 

[Pick-up truck rumbling on country road, country daytime ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Jordan picked at the chocolate between her teeth, using the sun visor’s small mirror to choose her targets. The mirror was fixed in place with duct tape. The pick-up truck bounced down the road under the flittering shadows of the leaves. A bale of hay slid around in the back.

[Jordan bumping her head]

JORDAN: Ow!

NARRATOR: Said Jordan.

EMMA: Sorry.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. She adjusted a small knob on the radio.

[Emma turning knob]

POLICE RADIO: We have a 10-56 at the Dairy Queen on—

NARRATOR: Said a crackly voice.

EMMA: Intoxi—

NARRATOR: Emma started to say, but her daughter wasn’t playing along. She sighed. 

[Emma sighing]

EMMA: Excited to meet new friends?

NARRATOR: Emma asked.

JORDAN: Can’t we listen to real radio.

NARRATOR: Said Jordan.

EMMA: You know driving time is not music time.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. Jordan mumbled to herself.

JORDAN: She blinded me, yeah yeah, science, dee dee, doo doo, by owl ohh gee.

[Old tractor pulling onto country road]

NARRATOR: A tractor pulled onto the road ahead of them.

JORDAN: Oh no!

NARRATOR: Cried Jordan.

NARRATOR: Now it will take forever!

EMMA: Slightly less than forever.

NARRATOR: Suggested Emma.

JORDAN: Can’t you go around?

EMMA: What, into the field?

JORDAN: This is awful!

NARRATOR: Jordan crossed her arms, forgetting the cupcake.

[Cupcake squishing under Jordan’s arm]

NARRATOR: The tractor sputtered.

[Old tractor sputtering]

JORDAN: Then let’s go over!

[Jordan kicking]

NARRATOR: Said Jordan.

EMMA: Settle down, young lady.

NARRATOR: Said Emma.

EMMA: So. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning? Then we’ll go to that matinee you wanted to see. Cheap seats! Special birthday movie for my special birthday girl! Day late, don’t hold it against me!

NARRATOR: Emma smiled.

POLICE RADIO: 10-54 on County Road G and— 

NARRATOR: Said the crackle.

EMMA: Cow on the—

JORDAN: —on the road.

NARRATOR: Completed Jordan, half-heartedly. 

JORDAN: But Mom, Clarissa’s Mom is taking all of us to the movies tomorrow.

NARRATOR: She added, in a whisper. 

JORDAN: So I can’t go with you.

EMMA: Oh.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. 

EMMA: A different movie, though, right? Not Beaglejuice? That’s for us.

JORDAN: It’s not Beaglejuice, you’re doing that on purpose.

EMMA: Me? Noooo.

JORDAN: Groooannn.

NARRATOR: The tractor pulled off the road.

[Old tractor sputtering and pulling off the country road]

JODRAN: Yay!

NARRATOR: Cried Jordan, sitting up straight. She looked at the glass star, a little game she played, counting each time the light sprayed into her eyes. 

[Light delicately striking a crystal star]

JORDAN: Anyways.

NARRATOR: She said. 

JORDAN: Yeah, that is the movie we’re all going to see.

EMMA: Oh. But- But-

NARRATOR: Emma stammered. 

EMMA: You asked me to—

JORDAN: Maahhmmm.

EMMA: All right.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. 

EMMA: All right. No biggie.

NARRATOR: She leaned into the driver’s side door, resting her elbow on the armrest, staring at the narrow road ahead.

[Synth music transition]

NARRATOR: They found the unmarked driveway. The pick-up truck pulled up to the house on the hill. Emma gazed at the maze of pine trees that led along a circuitous route culminating at the pebbled shore of a dark lake.

[Emma parking the pick-up truck, a lake gently lapping against the shore]

EMMA: Woah.

NARRATOR: She said.

EMMA: Is all this theirs?

JORDAN: Bye, Mom. 

NARRATOR: Said Jordan, flicking her seatbelt. She pushed open her door.

[Jordan unbuckling seat belt, opening pick-up truck door]

EMMA: No hug? 

NARRATOR: Begged Emma.

JORDAN: Noooo, not an awkward side-hug. 

NARRATOR: Jordan whined. But it was too late, and her mother already had an arm around her daughter and pulled Jordan against her and Jordan’s cheek pressed into her mother’s right breast and Jordan pouted. She wriggled free, sliding down on the seat and under her mother’s arm and slinked right out of the truck and onto the ground.

[Jordan sliding out of truck and onto dirt and gravel ground]

EMMA: You’re probably right.

NARRATOR: Called Emma through the open door.

EMMA: Side-hugs, no good.

NARRATOR: Jordan turned in dread to see her mother unclasp her seatbelt and hop out of the truck.

[Emma unbuckling her seatbelt, opening the door, and jumping out of the pick-up truck onto dirt and gravel ground]

NARRATOR: Before she could flee, Jordan was lifted up, high into the air with a full frontal hug— for all the world to see. Jordan craned her neck, scanning the windows of the house on the hill, searching for witnesses. 

[Old gardener grumbling, clipping hedge]

NARRATOR: A lone gardener stopped clipping a hedge, gave her a look— and resumed his work.

[Old gardener grumbling, clipping hedge]

NARRATOR: The crackly voice in the truck said:

POLICE RADIO: 10-50 Old Highway 41 and County Highway VV— 10-52, ambulance needed—

EMMA: —car accident—

NARRATOR: Mumbled Emma.

EMMA: See you tomorrow.

NARRATOR: She dropped Jordan and scurried back into the truck.

[Emma running back to the pick-up truck, starting it, driving away]

NARRATOR: Jordan watched the truck peel out, spitting gravel. After a brief rumble, the passenger-side door closed during the turn. 

[Rumbling, pick-up truck door closing]

NARRATOR: Jordan squinted, turned away, and jaunted up the long alabaster stair.

[Jordan walking up stairs]

[Pause]

NARRATOR: A capital “S” and a capital “E.”

[Synth music, Jordan distraught breathing, quiet crackling of white noise on radio]

NARRATOR: The letters were written on her forehead twice— once in black and then again in red, and the red was just inside the black. Jordan realized the girls actually had time to write their decree twice before she awoke from their maniacal dinosaur laughter. She stifled a gag.

[Jordan stifling gag]

NARRATOR: Jordan lifted her hand to wipe more of the mirror, and so confirm the remaining letter, but then the bathroom door burst open.

[Bathroom door flying open, girls laughing]

NARRATOR: Jordan turned to see a stone-hewn collage of her friends, her very best friends—

[Girl laughing]

NARRATOR: —arranged like a Mount Rushmore of lesser-known presidents. Aged nine through eleven. 

[Girl laughing]

NARRATOR: The rigid monument managed to point, and some presidents even doubled-over, falling into histrionic jeers.

[Girls laughing]

NARRATOR: Jordan dove at the stony faces to force her way through—

[Jordan struggling past girls]

NARRATOR: But Clarissa’s mother appeared—

[Dinosaur snarling, heavy dinosaur footsteps]

NARRATOR: —her brow furrowed, her lips curled. 

[Dinosaur snarling]

NARRATOR: The disapproving adult sneer spread like an oil spill.

[Oil dripping]

NARRATOR: Clarissa’s mother wore a towel wrapped around her head and a bathrobe with pearls along the cuffs.

JORDAN: Ah, now they’ll get it!

NARRATOR: Jordan thought in triumph. She aimed an index finger at her forehead and cried out.

JORDAN: Look. What. They. Did!

NARRATOR: Clarissa’s mother bent low. 

[Dinosaur bending forward, sniffing]

NARRATOR: Clarissa’s mother wanted to use the little girl’s name for emphasis, but she was darned if she could remember it. Clarissa’s mother thrust her grasp toward the monument and snagged the nearest tiny hand.

[Clarissa’s Mother grabbing a girl’s hand]

NARRATOR: Jordan trembled in anticipation of her vindication.

CLARISSA’S MOTHER: Stop your belly-aching!

NARRATOR: Clarissa’s mother yelled. She thrust the captured hand into Jordan’s astonished view. Clarissa’s mother turned the hand over like a pancake. Clarissa’s mother showed Jordan the back of the hand— and what was, probably, supposed to be a panda. The probable panda was scrawled in purple marker. Jordan sniffed. 

[Jordan sniffing]

NARRATOR: The probable purple panda was grape. Clarissa’s mother bellowed again.

CLARISSA’S MOTHER: Look! They did it to all the girls!

[Many girls’ hands thrusting out in succession]

NARRATOR: And at once the other girls displayed the backs of their hands in succession like the unfolding plumage of a peacock. There, in various fruit and candy smells, proud commissioned artworks worthy of inclusion in any primitive cave painting.

JORDAN: But—

NARRATOR: Jordan stammered, pointing again to her forehead. 

JORDAN: But!

[Dinosaur growling]

CLARISSA’S MOTHER: Go back to sleep!

NARRATOR: Cried Clarissa’s mother, tossing the tiny hand away.

[Clarissa’s Mother tossing aside a girl’s hand]

CLARISSA’S MOTHER: All of you!

NARRATOR: Jordan caught a glimpse of Maple Stirrup, dangling upside-down by the hoof in Clarissa’s spindly and tenuous grip. Jordan blew air out her nose. 

[Jordan blowing air out her nose]

NARRATOR: Jordan snatched the toy. 

[Jordan snatching the toy horse]

NARRATOR: Jordan fled down the dark hallway.

[Synth music, Jordan running]

CLARISSA: Hey! That’s mine!

NARRATOR: Cried Clarissa. The other girls chanted. 

GIRLS: Run Jordan! Run Jordan! Run Jordan!

[Metal sting, dinosaurs laughing, Jordan breathing and running]

NARRATOR: Jordan fled down the staircase and skipped the last step. She hopped onto the first floor. She found herself in the kitchen and flung open the sliding door.

[Jordan breathing, flinging open a sliding door, country night ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Scampering down the porch and across the backyard, Jordan made a beeline for the maze of pine trees growing behind the barn. Its front and rear doors were wide open. Jordan dashed into the barn past its many stalls.

[Jordan breathing, running into barn]

NARRATOR: Clarissa tackled her from behind.

[Clarissa tackling Jordan onto the ground]

NARRATOR: Jordan crashed into the dirt. Maple Stirrup flew up and away.

[Synth hit]

JORDAN: Uhhghh!

NARRATOR: Groaned Jordan, the wind knocked out of her. She could not move, except for her head.

[Clarissa sitting on Jordan] 

NARRATOR: Clarissa sat on her. Something over them whinnied.

[Pony whinnying]

NARRATOR: Jordan looked up, out the side of her left eye. A unicorn stared down at her in the moonlight. It shook its mane.

[Pony snorting]

NARRATOR: Apparently the birthday pony had been forgotten. It still wore its faux horn. The cone slipped to the side at an awkward angle.

[Pony snorting]

NARRATOR: Jordan struggled to stand, but Clarissa pushed her shoulders down.

[Jordan and Clarissa struggling]

JORDAN: Uff!

NARRATOR: Jordan thought it creepy Clarissa was not speaking. No taunt. No insult. Like when a kitten catches a sparrow and is confused what to do next.

JORDAN: Why?

NARRATOR: Asked Jordan through her teeth.

JORDAN: Why?

NARRATOR: She whimpered. Snot ran down her lip. 

[Barn rattling, low rumbling]

NARRATOR: A low rumble filled the barn. The stalls shook. 

[Barn stalls shaking]

NARRATOR: The unicorn stamped. 

[Pony snorting]

NARRATOR: The rafters creaked.

[Barn rafters creaking]

NARRATOR: Jordan clenched her hands in the straw and the dirt.

[Jordan clenching her hands in straw and dirt, synth drop]

NARRATOR: Fighting it. Fighting it. 

[Jordan distraught breathing]

NARRATOR: Her hands gnarled and her breath quickened. The unicorn’s stall flew open. 

[Barn stall flying open, action synth music]

NARRATOR: The pony ran out. 

[Pony running out of stall]

NARRATOR: Clarissa yelped and rolled away.

[Clarissa yelping, rolling on ground]

NARRATOR: Jordan scrambled to her feet. She ran out the back of the barn. 

[Jordan running, pony whinnying]

NARRATOR: She heard the trampling of hooves behind her. Faster, faster. 

[Pony running toward Jordan]

NARRATOR: Down the hill she ran. In the semi-darkness she heard boards beneath her. 

[Jordan distraught breathing, running]

NARRATOR: She jumped and climbed through the ruin of a collapsed silo. 

[Jordan climbing through ruins]

NARRATOR: There was a whiny and a cry.

[Pony whinnying, Clarissa screaming, wooden boards breaking]

NARRATOR: But she was too scared to look back.

[Jordan distraught breathing, running]

NARRATOR: Jordan ran headlong into the forest. Soon the sway of the pines and the strong fragrance of the needles slowed her flight to an amble. She searched the maze for an exit, failing to navigate its thick, gray-olive darkness. She was lost.

[Music stopping, forest ambience throughout]

NARRATOR: Morning approached. But it would be some time before the sun brought a new day and with it an easier escape. Jordan spun in a tight circle. 

[Wind]

NARRATOR: The trees danced in an ever-widening swirl. 

[Wind, gentle chimes]

NARRATOR: Tiny red and blue beads appeared, flung fast into motion trails. 

[Sparkly swishing]

NARRATOR: Jordan stopped spinning and caught her balance. 

[Jordan stopping in dirt, walking]

NARRATOR: She walked toward the distant glow, finding an opening between two large pines. Jordan followed the alternating lights. She reached the lake and its pebbled shore. 

[A lake gently lapping against the shore, Jordan walking]

NARRATOR: Out of breath and exhausted, Jordan shuffled over to the lap of water. She knelt down. 

[Jordan kneeling, piano music starts, melancholy]

NARRATOR: Jordan watched the wobbly reflection of the graffiti on her face. She lifted her head. Across the lake in the distance she spied an unmistakable string of blue and red. Although it was mid-summer here, there it was forever Christmas. Jordan had never realized how close her and Clarissa lived to one another. How many times had Jordan stood on that shore, unknowingly looking to this very spot where she now knelt? How many times had her expectations warped the pebbles on this shore into nuggets of gold, gold discarded by the dentists and the lawyers on this side of the lake? Discarded because their buckets for the nuggets were full and, gosh, they had to dump those nuggets somewhere, and even the lake could not hold them, so the shoreline must collect the overflow. Jordan sighed. 

[Jordan sighing]

NARRATOR: She took a handful. 

[Jordan scooping pebbles into her hand]

NARRATOR: The pebbles were just that— pebbles. And from them came no shine. Jordan dropped the pebbles—

[Jordan dropping the pebbles]

NARRATOR: —and stepped into the lake— 

[Jordan stepping into the lake]

NARRATOR: She was bound and determined to take the shortest route home.

[Jordan walking into the lake]

NARRATOR: She felt drowsy. Her eyes half-closed. She wiped the snot from her nose.

[Jordan walking deeper into the lake]

NARRATOR: The lake was soon up to her knees. The silt dispersed around her feet. Her thin nightgown distended, filling with water around her. 

[Jordan walking deeper into the lake]

NARRATOR: She thought maybe her next step would lift her up onto the plane of the lake, so she raised her leg high—

[Jordan lifting a leg out of the lake]

NARRATOR: —and moved in slow-motion, as if to give the surface tension fair warning of her well-meaning, though desperate, intention. 

[Jordan breathing]

NARRATOR: She put her foot down.

[Piano music crescendoes, melancholy]

NARRATOR: Emma found Jordan curled up asleep in the bed of the pickup truck. She stood beside the truck bed, smoothing back Jordan’s hair.

EMMA: Good morning, Sunshine.

NARRATOR: Jordan stretched her legs.

[Jordan kicking pick-up truck, country morning ambience throughout, a lake gently lapping against the shore]

JORDAN: Hrrhhmmmnnnhm. 

NARRATOR: She said.

EMMA: I have a question.

NARRATOR: Said Emma.

EMMA: Justa simple, normal, every-day type question.

JORDAN: Mmmrryeah?

[Jordan kicking pick-up truck]

EMMA: What are you doing sleeping in the back of the pick-up?

JORDAN: Couldn’t— make it— to the— house.

[Jordan kicking pick-up truck]

EMMA: I see. But weren’t you girls going to the movies today?

JORDAN: The movie place— burned down.

EMMA: Ohhh. The movie place burned down.

NARRATOR: Emma pushed strands of hair out of Jordan’s eyes. She licked her thumb and moved to wipe Jordan’s forehead.

EMMA: What’s this?

[Jordan kicking pick-up truck]

JORDAN: NO! 

NARRATOR: Shouted Jordan, flinching. She relaxed. She said in a small voice.

JORDAN: It belongs there.

NARRATOR: Emma retracted her hand. She watched Jordan’s bottom lip quiver. 

EMMA: You can cry.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. 

EMMA: If you want to. It’s— ok.

JORDAN: No, it isn’t. They hate me. I’m not going to cry for them.         

EMMA: No one hates you, my sweet.

JORDAN: Yes they do.

EMMA: Why would they hate you?

JORDAN: Because—

EMMA: Jordan sat up. 

[Jordan sits up in back of pick-up truck]

NARRATOR: She thrust her face forward. She pointed at her forehead with both hands.

[Rush of wind]

JORDAN: I’m a loser!

[The pick-up truck starting, rattling, lights breaking, pick-up truck shutting off]

NARRATOR: Jordan remembered the first two letters in the hand-held mirror, the next two in the bathroom, and the wavy reproduction of the whole word in the lake. Only now did she understand that her friends, her very best friends, had written the letters backwards. They had written them backwards so she could read them in a reflection.

JORDAN: How clever. 

NARRATOR: She admitted.

NARRATOR: But then Jordan caught sight of her mother’s gentle smile.

EMMA: They would have done the same to any girl. Their cruelty isn’t about you, Jordan. It’s about them. And it’s about how much they have to learn.

NARRATOR: And as Emma followed the cherry and licorice contours, the letters were no more, washed clean by a sparkle in her eye and an imperfect but hopeful grin. And yes, the spit on her thumb. But also, something else, something Jordan could not name, but she didn’t need to name it really— not everything good has a name.

[Emma taking off her jacket]

NARRATOR: Emma took her jacket off and wrapped it around Jordan. 

EMMA: Let’s take a quick hop over there. I’ll talk to Clarissa’s mom.

JORDAN: Mom, nooooo!

NARRATOR: Cried Jordan in a panic.

EMMA: Well, for one thing, we have to snag Aunt Sylvia’s dress.

NARRATOR: Jordan hung her head. 

[Emma and Jordan closing the doors of the pick-up truck]

NARRATOR: Emma turned the key in the ignition.

[Emma starting the pick-up truck]

POLICE RADIO: 10-78.

NARRATOR: Said the crackly voice.

NARRATOR: Emma looked over at Jordan. The voice continued:

POLICE RADIO: Missing child at the Schroeder property. Daughter Clarissa, age 11.

EMMA: Do you know what happened?

NARRATOR: Emma asked Jordan. Jordan shook her head.

JORDAN: She chased me. Tackled me. In their barn. I ran. Rocks and things, behind the barn. Then, the lake.

EMMA: The lake? Listen carefully, Jordan. If you had the power to find Clarissa, and to help her, if she needed it, would you? You can be honest.

NARRATOR: Jordan crinkled her mouth.

JORDAN: Honest?

NARRATOR: She asked, skeptical. Emma nodded. Jordan lowered her gaze to the pterodactyl on the seat beside her. She stroked its plastic wings and shrugged.

[Jordan petting plastic dinosaur]

EMMA: Well, while you think about it— the lake, the pines, and the old silo are the first places we’ll look, in that order.

JORDAN: But she was mean. 

EMMA: Yes, she was.

NARRATOR: Emma replied. She watched her daughter pet the pterodactyl.

EMMA: Jordan, in your life, you’ll have many chances to help people you don’t know. Folks you don’t know if they’re mean to people or nice to people, or what. But I think maybe helping them has one thing in common as hurting them, in this one way: it’s about who you are. Not if the person deserves it. That we don’t judge. That’s not for us. We just help.

NARRATOR: Emma put the truck into gear and it bounced onto the road.

[Emma driving the pick-up truck onto the country road]

[Synth music transition]

NARRATOR: Clarissa wasn’t in the lake. Not in the pine forest. They found her at the bottom of an old broken silo, its boarded up floor ruptured— now a splintered maw leading to an empty belly.

EMMA: There she is.

NARRATOR: Said Emma, looking down into the dark.

EMMA: See her breathing?

JORDAN: I think so.

NARRATOR: Answered Jordan.

JORDAN: We can tell her momma or the police.

NARRATOR: She threw a glance across the rubble and through the barn toward the cop car parked in the driveway.

EMMA: But she could be hurt on the inside.

NARRATOR: Said Emma.

EMMA: And it might take them too long to get down there and up again.

NARRATOR: Jordan looked from the cop car to her mother and then down to Clarissa.

NARRATOR: Emma asked gently.

EMMA: What should we do, Jordan?

NARRATOR: Jordan clenched her mouth. 

[Low rumbling]

NARRATOR: She slowly lifted her right palm over the ruptured boards. Her hand shook. Emma squeezed Jordan’s shoulder. She whispered.

EMMA: It’s about thirty feet. You’ll be fine. I’m here if you need me.

NARRATOR: Emma rubbed the back of Jordan’s neck.

EMMA: Now. Jordan. A single. Deep. Breath.

NARRATOR: Jordan shut her eyes. Inhaled. 

[Jordan inhaling]

NARRATOR: Stopped shaking. Exhaled.

[Jordan exhaling]

NARRATOR: A low rumble shook the loose stones of the silo.

[Rattling wooden boards, small stones rattling]

NARRATOR: Pebbles flopped on the boards. Earth began to rise.

EMMA: Good.

NARRATOR: Whispered Emma, throwing a look at the cop car.

EMMA: Now, think of Clarissa. Center your mind. Between her and the ground. And— lift!

[Rocks crumbling apart]

NARRATOR: Crumbles of rock and fits of straw and sprays of dirt lifted up out of the hole— but no Clarissa. The rumble wavered.

[Rumble hesitating, stopping]

JORDAN: I can’t.

NARRATOR: Said Jordan, opening red, teary eyes. Emma said, resolute:

EMMA: Yes, you can— Raptor-Face!

NARRATOR: Jordan smiled. She relaxed. Looked down into the darkness. She turned her hand over, as if scooping it under Clarissa. Jordan growled.

JORDAN: Rawr!

[Synth drop, uplifting synth music]

NARRATOR: The air crackled. 

[Crackling power]

NARRATOR: Jordan lifted her arm. Clarissa floated up out of the hole.

JORDAN: Raaahhhawr!

[Synth music gently crescendoing]

NARRATOR: On the ride back home Jordan thought about what she had done. When her mother wasn’t looking, she pinched herself. Pretty hard, too. After parking their truck—

[Emma parking the pick-up truck]

NARRATOR: They walked toward their motorhome. 

[Emma and Jordan walking across grass and dirt, country morning ambience throughout, a lake gently lapping against the shore]

EMMA: Let’s get you dressed.

NARRATOR: Said Emma. She stopped in her tracks.

EMMA: Oh, shoot. We’ll have to go back for Aunt Sylvia’s dress. I totally forgot all about it.

JORDAN: Maybe—

NARRATOR: Jordan fidgeted. 

JORDAN: Later? We don’t want to miss the matinee, you and me.

NARRATOR: She looked up at her mother with bashful eyes. 

JORDAN: Beaglejuice?

EMMA: I thought the movie theatre burned down.

NARRATOR: Her mother snorted.

JORDAN: I think— maybe— it didn’t.

NARRATOR: Answered Jordan.

EMMA: Oh is that right?

NARRATOR: Emma laughed.

JORDAN: Momma?

EMMA: Yes, my love?

JORDAN: So, uh, now that we both— uh—

NARRATOR: Jordan waved her hand up and down.

JODRAN: Will I go with you?

EMMA: No, not yet. You will need practice. Secret practice. It’ll be fun, but it must be secret. The greatest secret. Then, later, we will go out together, but only for a short time.

JORDAN: Why?

EMMA: Well. As the days pass, and the seasons change, my power will fade. And you will go out alone.

JORDAN: Why?

EMMA: The days will never stop. The seasons will always change. One day, I will wake up— and I will no longer be able to fly. Or— do any of it.

JORDAN: But— but won’t you be sad that day?

NARRATOR: Emma turned away. Found herself looking up to the clouds. 

[Synth music starts, gentle winds]

NARRATOR: She thought about passing through them— and their delicate mist tickling her nose. Looking down on verdant farms, spongy tree-tops, and, at night, coasting among the stars. She answered.

EMMA: Yes.

NARRATOR: Emma took Jordan’s hand and smiled.

EMMA: But— happy for you. Because it’s only natural. As I diminish, you will grow.

JORDAN: Then I will grow as slowly as I can.

NARRATOR: Said Jordan. Emma wiped the corner of one eye.

EMMA: Here. I saw her lying in the barn.

NARRATOR: Emma opened her hand and revealed Maple Stirrup.

[Emma handling the plastic toy horse]

NARRATOR: A third of her mane was missing. She had a frightening, crooked grin. Was missing a hoof. One of her ears was cracked and would probably fall off in a week or two. Jordan smiled.

JORDAN: Awesome.

NARRATOR: The sun was coming up. 

[Light gleaming]

NARRATOR: Jordan glanced back at the lake but couldn’t see the other side, for the water reflected the sunrise, and it bloomed, blinding her. Behind her, she heard her mother enter their motorhome. 

[Emma closing the door of the motorhome]

NARRATOR: Jordan turned away from the lake and ran onto the grass. 

[Jordan running on the grass, low rumbling]

NARRATOR: Following a soft rumble and a small gesture, Maple Stirrup galloped high through the air.

JORDAN: Neee eh eh hee!

[Piano music, off-key]

[Music shifting]

WILLIAM: You’ve been listening to “The Loser,” written and produced by William J. Meyer. Read and performed by Emily Strand. Music by Chad Crouch. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial 3.0 Non-ported License. Featuring the song, “Happy Birthday to You,” in the Public Domain. Written by Patty and Mildred J. Hill. Performed by James Hudson. Strange/Love theme music by William Seegers. 

Each episode I like to recommend a book with a similar theme and today I’d like to recommend Kiki’s Delivery Service written by Eiko Kadono. Of course I’ve seen the Hayao Miyazaki film, but I just started reading the novel last week. If you’re not familiar, the story follows Kiki, a young witch, leaving home for the first time. I’ve always been struck by the film, as there doesn’t seem to be an antagonist, other than Kiki’s own self-doubts. So I wanted to read the book.

If you enjoyed today’s story, please consider telling your friends about Strange/Love, and leaving a review on your podcatcher of choice.

Upcoming episodes include: “And Worms Do Not Destroy,” a fantasy tale about two barbarian brothers, on a life-long quest. “I Am Five Years Old And Dying,” about an artificial intelligence seeking to escape its programming. The sci-fi rom-com, “The Transposition of Chloë Brontë,” about, in part, sleep paralysis. And: “The Animatronic Truth,” about a robot looking for God in the lonely frozen wastes of a future Antarctica. Visit strangelovepodcast.com to learn more.

And you can follow me on Twitter for more shenanigans, at: by William J. Meyer.

Thanks for listening. I hope you join me again for another beat of the eternal heart, and another story of strange love. Until then.

[Music crescendoing]

[Pony whinnying]

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Folxlore tells the stories of queer people living literally and figuratively between two worlds. In one sense, we try to live normal lives while the world tells us we are