We Love You, Bunny, page 17
But on this Night she only smiled at me. “Tapping the Wound is an unconscious Process. To explain would be to kill the Flow of the Well Spring.”
I nodded as if I understood. Sometimes with Mother tis best to pretend to understand rather than to ask more Questions. She often becomes overwhelmed at how much I do not seem to know She often leaves and slams the door and, just before she does, looks at me like I am so stupid, I am such Trash. She will burn me alive, she will tear me into a thousand Pieces and throw me in the Garbage, her Eyes say. If I continue to speak in what she calls this “nonsensical” or “banal Manner.” If I continue to “ramble on” about Ponies and Dandy Lions when she wishes me to speak on other Matters
So here I am Tapping the Wound (or trying to)
For you, dear Reader. My Friend
* * *
Now that we have “met,” where should Aerius begin? There is so much to tell that the Truth is I do not know! I would prefer not to begin in the Attic Times, dear Reader. I would much prefer not. These Times are too painful to revisit Instead I think I will begin with my first Night of Freedom Tis a Time that I like to go most in my Mindscape, despite some of its (inevitable) Violences Yes, I will begin there: with Aerius in the Attic, so much Abused Tied up, locked away with nothing but a Triangle of Sky to look at for so very long Eating Nothing but dead Grasses and brightly colored Poisons in a multitude of Shapes Something called a Playlist forever roaring around my Person Moving Pictures on the wall, of which I could make no sense, and some very tasteless Literatures by my bound Feets, which provided little in the Way of Sustenance My Eyes forever on the Triangle, dreaming, dreaming of Escape. And then came that fateful Night when one of my Keepers was a bit loose with the Rope. She’d become flustered by a Word I had said. I knew not which, for I often spoke without knowing what I was saying, Reader. But this Word had a dismantling Effect on her Person, causing her to fumble suddenly with the many Ropes that bound me, so that she inadvertently left a kind of Loophole, from which, with the help of my Razor, I was able to free my Body.
In her haste to leave me, she also left the Ax on the floor, which I happily picked up. Struck the Triangle thrice. And then, bypassing its many Shards, jumped into the Night.
I should say that when I jumped, I knew that Death might well be my Fate. Alas, twas a Risk I was willing to take, such had been the Pain of my Attic Times So when I landed in the tall Grasses below, Alive and unscathed (and already on my Feets, no less), you can imagine my very pleasant Surprise I stood in the Grasses, staring at the little house that had long been my Prison. Through the lit windows I saw my Keepers: Goldy Cut, Murder Fairy, and Insatiable (these were my private Names for them). And of course the One I called the Mind Witch, whom I saw less often than my other three Keepers, but whom I sensed was Queen of them all. They all four seemed much shorter than I recalled. They were arguing about me in their high-pitched Voices, which they often liked to do, about who would date me and what Literatures to feed me next, and one of them chanting softly about an Ax with which to kill me, and so on And I ran, Reader. Right past the open living room windows, in perfect view of them, each one smelling of Flowers not in Nature, each wearing a Petal-colored Dress, whose bright Shades haunt me still I took Ax along with me, Reader. Since I knew they were planning to kill me with her, I thought it best
And to Kill Allan with also
More on this Matter very soon
* * *
I had Pony with me too, of course. He’d been a gift from Goldy Cut. This is for you, she’d said, offering up the pink Horse like an Organ of her Body. At first I did not want to accept, let alone talk to him, belonging as he did to Goldy Cut. Perhaps he was her Spy But as it turned out, he had no such Loyalties, for he, too, had suffered many Violences at her Hands And so we fast became great Friends Now I tucked him neatly first in my inside Pocket, then in my outside Pocket so he could better see the Happenings of our Escape He, like me, was so very excited to leave at last! More excited than even I, or so I imagined, by his many eye Sparkles. (I had begun imagining long before Mother gave a name to it, it seems.) I had my Razor with me too. Goldy Cut had used it to carve many Words into my Pelt, always such soft little Strokes, mostly her Phone number and Name surrounded by blobby Circles, which she said were Hearts. My Heart, she said, pointing to one of these misshapen Circles. Her Hand trembling so mightily when she made her many Imprints on my Body that the Words and numbers still appear to be trembling too.
But I Digress.
Pony, Razor, and Ax, these were my only Friends in the World, each one useful in their Way. Pony and Razor in my Pockets, and Ax fitting very comfortably inside my velvet Blazer the deep blue color of Twilight Time. There was even a hook within the lining for me to hang her on. Ax fit so perfectly there that twas almost Too Good to Be True, almost as if I were in a Story—a Fiction or one of those Moving Pictures—where the Narrative Stars always seem to align. Almost as if a strange kind of Fortune were following me. A Serendipity, to use the Mind Witch’s most favorite Word.
Oh how the Night Air felt, Reader The cool Sweetness! The hum of Grasses! The Moon casting her silvery Light on my Face! Aerius felt alive! Alive, alive, alive, Pony and I might have screamed (or so I imagined Pony screamed, for his smiling Mouth never once moved). I pulsed with a new kind of Electricity. An Energy all along my Pelt. My Lips curled into quite a Smile, I felt it on my Face Though I was terribly hungry and thirsty, I did not touch the delicious-smelling Grass at my Feets, for I was still too close to my former Prison. Instead I stuffed some in my Pockets along with some cold Flowers. Then I skipped along for some Time and did not look back, not once at the smashed Triangle window. Which still gives me Nightmares to think about
* * *
How long did I run, jumping up and down and up and down, shouting Free, Free, Free? I cannot tell, for such was my Exhilaration. The Moon alone witnessed my Ecstasy. Once I was far enough away, I stuffed my Mouth with as many Dandy Lions as could be held in that smiling Vessel I found there to be a crisp new Chill to their Taste. Clearly it had grown colder since the Attic Times There was a frosty Bite to each stem and Petal, to the Night Air itself.
I was just wondering about this, contemplating how much Time had truly passed, when I saw three little Monsters up ahead on the road, skipping toward me in the Dark. Each one was carrying a small orange bucket. The buckets were shaped like smiling Pumpkins. I did not like the look of these Monsters or their leering Pumpkin buckets, Reader They stopped before me. Two appeared to be little Ghosts, and the other a Devil with Horns and a large red plastic Pitchfork. They were very short Monsters. And afeared of me, I could tell by their Eyes, which widened at the Sight of my Person. Their Fear, I confess, delighted me a little
They looked at me, my Mouth full of cold (but still delicious) Dandy Lion. My velvet Blazer, my white Nightgown fluttering in the dark Breeze.
“What are you supposed to be?” they asked.
Pony did not like this Question; I felt him frowning in my Pocket. Supposed to be?
“Free,” I said. The Word, Reader, gave me such a Shiver of Pleasure to say.
These Monsters looked at one another, then held up their buckets.
“Trick or Treat,” they said to me. Quite hopefully, but afeared still. I stared at the leering Pumpkin Faces, those sly black Smiles. The buckets, I saw, were filled to the near top with Candy. I knew twas Candy, Reader, because I’d been fed similar Confections by my Keepers in various Forms. I had craved Clover and tender Grasses fresh from the Earth, and what had they mostly given me? A toxic, bright-colored Dust called Pixy Stix, to which I’d sorely become addicted Some vile, sweet plastic Ropes that they said were Red Vines. A monstrously hard candy called (paradoxically) a “Jolly Rancher,” which I learned (the hard Way ) you could not bite into directly but instead had to suck for a very long Time. These three Monsters, it seemed, wanted me to add to their toxic Bounty How lucky for them that I had fresh Grasses in my Pocket to offer instead I gave them some of these Pocket Grasses, though I could feel Pony whispering, Don’t, don’t! I gave them a Dandy Lion, too. “They are cold due to the Chill,” I warned, “but still delicious.”
The Monsters looked at one another, presumably not knowing what to make of my Offerings. “Don’t you have anything else?” This from one of the two Ghosts.
I could not part with Pony, obviously, though I noticed the Devil Child eyeing him enviously. But perhaps I could part with Razor, since I also had Ax. So I held it out with a Smile, Reader, as if to say, For you. Handed it forth like a Flower. And these little Monsters screamed. The two sneakered Ghosts ran promptly away into the Dark.
But the Devil, who’d been eyeing Pony, stayed. Stared at me, not seeming able to stop himself. Almost as if he were drinking me, Reader. My Dress, my Pearls, my Blazer blue as the Night itself, the Razor I twirled in my Hand. Mostly he stared at my Face as if he were lost there. I was used to this Manner of Staring; it had been a staple of my Attic Times. Though I despised my Keepers, I confess their obvious Enchantment always did delight me It reminded me that even though I was bound and in their Power, I had Powers of my own. And so the Boy’s Fixation pleased me. I put away the Razor and, as I did so, felt compelled to reach into my Pocket again, though I knew it to be empty. And twas funny, but something was in there this Time. Like Magic, it had appeared (and perhaps this Story Magic of which I spoke earlier was responsible). A Jolly Rancher, twas Watermelon On the wrapper, a wedge of the Fruit smiling broadly at us both
I handed it to the little Devil, put the Candy right in his open Hoof, which was trembling slightly. And how funny that I quite enjoyed the Tremble, Reader, that I was having such an Effect! He appeared completely entranced. My Keepers often used this Word, “entranced,” to describe my Effect upon them. You cast such a Spell, Murder Fairy often said, that I probably have to murder you. Because I don’t want to share you, Bunny. Because if I can’t have you, No One can.
The Devil looked down at the Jolly Rancher as if twere something more than mere Candy. “Al?” a Woman’s Voice called softly somewhere.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“Aerius,” I whispered back.
“Al!” the Woman’s Voice called again, seeming to get closer.
The Boy, who perhaps was named Al, ignored her. “Aerius,” he repeated, as though learning the name of a lovely Song. So lost in my Face, and I marveling at how lost he was there. Wanting him to be more lost still. I looked at his own Face, which was painted all over with shining red flecks.
“I enjoy this Glitter,” I said to the Boy, touching his Cheek. “Tis so sparkly. May I have some?”
“Al? Where are you?”
The Boy nodded, as if in a Trance. He swiped at his Face and brushed the residual Glitter gently onto my Cheeks like I had seen my Keepers do with what they call Rouge. He smiled. And I smiled at his Smiling. Twas a moment of Great Electric Beauty, Reader. Of Transcendent Connection between us. Ax slipped from my Blazer onto the cold, sparkly pavement with a soft Clatter.
“ALAN!” the Voice roared now. “Alan Michael Foxworthy, you come here right now! Where are you?”
And something happened to my Body then, Reader, at the sound of this Name. My Hands on the Boy’s Shoulders. Suddenly gripping them tight. “Allan?” I repeated.
The Boy startled and I startled too, Reader. So viscerally connected we were in this Moment. Fear brightening his Eyes anew. “Allan,” I said, gripping his Shoulders tighter still. And then the Words came to me like a Song, the Song of my Blood. “Kill Allan,” I whispered, reaching down for my Ax, which had perhaps dropped to the Ground for this very Reason
Kill Allan, Kill Allan, Kill Allan.
I had just raised my Ax over his Head, as he stood there watching her like she was a lovely Falling Star, when I heard another Voice pierce the Night. Familiar. Terrible. “Aerius!”
Twas the high Voice of one of my Keepers Goldy Cut, possibly Murder Fairy.
“Aerius, where are you?”
How it made my Blood cold, Reader, to hear this Voice calling me How it froze me there in Fear before Allan I looked around me, wildly, Ax in Hand. But I could see no Sign of them. No Petal-colored Dress, no shining Hairs. Had I imagined the Voice, or were they truly out there hunting for me? I turned back to Allan to ask him for his Thoughts on this before I killed him, but I found he’d gone Run off and disappeared into the Dark Leaving only his leering Pumpkin bucket behind, its many bright-colored Poisons spilling onto the sidewalk. I stared at these Poisons, recalling Goldy Cut handing them to me by the Fistful, a wavering Smile on her Face. Sweets to make you sweet, she’d whispered.
Twas then I grew Sad, Reader For unless I was imagining Things (), I was already being pursued And I had failed to kill Allan, who had strangely grown so much shorter than when I’d first seen him from the Garden, walking toward his Subaru—which was quite curious. Though why I wished to kill him, I did not know, Reader. Why, at the sound of his Name, did such sharp Longing fill my Blood? And why did I feel as if to kill him would bring a kind of strange Relief?
This was all quite curious too.
“But then, the ways of Nature are curious, aren’t they?” I asked Pony.
Yes, Pony whispered from my Pocket.
“Aerius!” cried the Voice again. Voices. Growing louder and closer now.
And so I, like Allan, disappeared into the Dark.
* * *
I ran until I could no longer hear them dogging me, until I felt I’d left their Shadows in the Dust. I found my Self on a dark, winding street, lit by many a strange orange Light. Pumpkins leered at me from every doorstep, every window. Monsters large and small walked past me in the Dark, brushing past my velvet Shoulders. Some in large Clusters, some alone. A shrieking Laughter came from I knew not where. Perhaps the Night was laughing at me, Reader Everywhere I looked, Men made of Bones sat on porch steps staring idly into my Soul
All these Sights and Sounds uneased Pony terribly. They uneased me, too, I confess.
“Pony,” I whispered into my Pocket, “is this really the World?”
Pony did not answer this Time; he sometimes fell silent for long Spells. Without Allan to Kill, with my Keepers after me, the Night lost much of its Joy, Reader Grew cold and strange I suddenly started to feel quite alone in this bizarre new World where Allans could shrink without Warning and Dandy Lions were bitten through with Frost and every Shadow or Sound could be a Keeper with an Ax wanting to revise me I longed for that little Monster’s Face on mine again, looking at me with such Wonder and Fear, even if he was Allan and I must Kill Allan
I longed perhaps, for the first Time, Reader, for a Friend
Twas then I heard Sounds of a faint but buoyant Music playing nearby. Voices shouting in Delight. Up ahead I saw a big house on a Hill, quite lit up with the prettiest Lights. I was dazzled by these Lights and by the Sounds of Rejoicing seemingly coming from within I felt a sense of Giddiness return to me. A sense of the Night’s great Possibilities Perhaps all that Light would heat up the cold Earth, and I would find warmer Dandy Lions and more tender Grasses there. Perhaps there too I would find a Friend
* * *
As I approached the house, the Lights and rejoicing Sounds grew so much louder, which was entrancing and drew me ever nearer Monsters were entering the front door in large numbers. It seemed a very popular Destination, this house. There were strange Characters etched over the door—Letters but not English Letters. Greek, I recognized from the many ancient Texts that Insatiable liked to read to me, alongside her Post-structuralist Theories Forgive me, she often whispered hotly during these Readings, her dirty fingernails digging into my Shoulder, her unbrushed Hairs in my Face. But I’m Insatiable. To see those Characters made me (and Pony) not a little nervous, Reader. Reminded me that my Keepers were surely still out there hunting for me so that they could continue with their terrible Revision This Revision seemed to involve a lot of Hair Braidings, a lot of Sighing in my Face with Tears shining in their Eyes, a lot of touching my Hands as though not believing them to be Real. A lot of asking me to tell them something, please, and me never knowing what to tell, for I sensed each Keeper wanted something quite Specific, some quite particular String of Words, and these particular Words I could not guess A lot of begging me to run away with them, please, and not tell the Others, please, a lot of saying the word Mine and grasping my Wrist quite tightly, sometimes asking me, shyly, if I’d like to make out or receive something called Oral. Or if I might like to give them Oral. Please. Though they thankfully never went so far as to impose their actual Bodies on me, Reader, they did subject me, quite extensively, to their Longings
Much as I did not want to be alone, much as I wanted to go into the house with its warming Lights and happy Sounds, I also did not want to be discovered by Insatiable Or Goldy Cut, or Murder Fairy even though I had her Ax now. Certainly I did not want to be found by the Mind Witch This house was filled with Monsters, after all, and perhaps one or all of my Keepers were among them
What was I to do?
I was pondering this Question when I felt something at my Feets. There, lying on the frostbitten Grass: a Rabbit’s Face. Plastic. Pink. Smiling at me. How familiar (and yet not familiar) this Face seemed to me—its pudgy pink Cheeks full of stiff white Whiskers and its Eyes two black Holes framed with pretty Eyelashes. Long pink Ears with furry white Tufts grew out of its Head. Something about these Ears in particular filled me with a kind of odd Longing, Reader. Twas like looking into a slightly off Mirror, I cannot tell why. I picked up the Face—a Mask, I would learn twas called—and placed it over my own. I felt it belonged there somehow, belonged on me. There was an elastic that went around the back of my Head that held it in Place. Suddenly I saw the World through these very small Holes, and though twas harder to breathe, twas also somewhat easier to absorb my Surroundings this Way. Twas easier to Be—do you understand this Feeling, Reader? Suddenly I felt Free again. A different kind of Free. Like I could hide and yet show my Self at the very same Time
