After that first night, Frobisher developed a wild, passionate crush on Sally Lou. Unfortunately, the feeling was not returned. However, Sally Lou quickly saw just how she could turn the situation to her best advantage.
Alfer Centurie developed, what they call 150 years from now, a mental cyst. So, he had to leave his hermit lifestyle temporarily to obtain treatments. The medicine folks of the day believed mental cysts to be caused by unresolved dream material. In Alfer Centurie’s case, no truer word was ever spoken.
* * * * * * *
(1986)
The adult me put the pen down and looked at myself in the mirror. Who was I anyway? Magic or miracle? The person that steps down from a runaway train and says, “Ah well, it was nothing.” Occasionally, I amazed myself…all by myself. If I couldn’t create someone that would amaze ME, I might as well not try to amaze anyone else.
I loved the Joceile of fourteen years earlier. Everything I did, when put on a continuum, was to impress that fourteen year old. Someone, somewhere, had to make that kid’s life worth living. I knew I was the best person for the job. Who better to create a healthy past than the person of the future? No one, I decided, no one at all.
* * * * * * *
(1972)
As with the winds of war, the young me knew the smell of my own fear. Most of the power Sasifraz had taken was created by my fear. More than anything, I was aware of teetering on the edge of a precipice. I just didn’t know where falling would take me. So, I continued on my current path.
Arm cutting became a preoccupation as well as suicide. I knew, however, that as long as arm cutting did its job, suicide would not be an concern. A couple times a week, Sasifraz and I went through our ritual. It seemed as though we were in a holding pattern until one night I blanked out just before I drew the blade across my skin.
As always, I was waiting poised for Sasifraz to give the command. Startled suddenly, I looked down at my arm to see a much larger cut than ever before begin to bleed. I couldn’t remember the actual cutting. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but fear gripped me tightly.
I put Kleenex on the wound then got up to get more Kleenex. I pressed firmly with my other hand to get the bleeding to stop. I was scared, really scared, from a combination of concerns. On one hand, I wasn’t certain if the cut would heal by itself without my getting help. On the other hand, more importantly, I didn’t know how it had happened. It was as if I had lent my body to Sasifraz for an instant, and he had done it. That was the most troubling part. I felt the precipice get a step closer. I felt chilled.
* * * * * * *
The next day, I tried to see Kantor at school. I was concerned about my arm healing. However, Kantor wasn’t in that day. The day after that, I could see that the cut was starting to heal, but I wanted Kantor to know anyway. Although, I couldn’t decide whether I should tell her or not.
(I suppose it was a sixth sense.) Kantor came looking for me to see what I had wanted. Relying on the wisdom of fate, I told her what happened minus the blank out. Kantor sent me to see the school nurse who said the cut would have needed stitches when it happened, but now it was starting to heal on its own.
Again, the Parent wasn’t told, and I rested a little easier knowing someone else knew without my getting punished for them knowing.
* * * * * * *
As the days went by after that, I made another startling discovery. One which deepened the situation a little more. I discovered, much to my amazement and with some discomfort, that a larger wound (and only one at that) kept the Bad away for a longer period of time. It didn’t return as it had before. I waited patiently taking it as a sign I was on the mend.