Susan Bradby
Thu Mar 22, 2018 01:05

Susan was gritting her teeth. She was so mad that she wanted to kick something. Or someone. Preferably her sister.

It had been over a month since she came to RMI and she had exchanged perfunctory letters with her sister, Ivory. It was the usual ‘Hi. How are you?’ and ‘I’m fine, thanks. How are you?’ shuttled back and forth. That was fine. That was great, in fact. At least in letters, the exchange seemed cordial, if a little stiff. But, in person, even these brief interactions were annoying when the other person was beatifically smiling and you while being condescending. If Ivory had a superpower, it would be that- being saintly and condescending at the same time. But today, the missive was far more ominous.

Hello, little sister.

I hope you are doing well. We miss you. I am coming to California for a ‘Teens for Turtles’ convention next month. I hope I can come and meet you at your school.

With lots of love,

Ugh. Even the letter smelt of a sickening mix of essential oils. Susan had held it far from herself, squinting to read while holding her breath. She then crumpled up the letter and stuffed it under her mattress. Ivory had also sent a ‘care package’ with the letter. Susan did not dare open it in the dorm, afraid of what hideous odour or spillage it might create. It was safer to open it somewhere people didn’t go and she could simply dump it without accountability. So, with the shoebox-shaped package stuffed in her bag, she had sneaked into the Theater. It was empty, but she knew there was rehearsal later that day. She slunk back towards the middle of the audience seats and carefully opened the package.

There were small Mason jars, lined neatly inside the box, all labelled with neat little square bits of coarse and yellowish recycled paper. The ink had smudged on the edges of the letter and Susan knew it must have been made by Ivory herself. One of the pots had ‘candied walnuts’ written on it, but it looked like dead dung beetles in a jar. She was checking out what the jars contained when a boy- who looked familiar and was probably in her year- walked in. Susan sank back in her seat, when he asked if anyone was there. But he didn’t investigate further and started singing by himself.

There was a last jar left, one with white gloop in it, which read, ‘herbal shampoo’. She suspiciously opened the jar a tiny bit and sniffed. Immediately, she was smacked in the face by the aroma of what could only have been decomposed vomit. She gagged audibly, loudly. And apparently it was loud enough to interrupt the boy’s singing. Uh-oh.

Susan quickly stuffed the things back in the box and got up from her seat. “Hey, no it was no bother!” she said loudly. “I loved it! I was listening to it. All of it. Hehe.”

She scuttled down from her seat in the audience and walked up to him. “Hey, you’re in my class! I’m Susan.” She hoped she wasn’t overdoing her enthusiasm, but no one could know that that box of horror belonged to her.

  • Guess who's back. - Leon Finnin, Fri Mar 9 03:17
    Leon slinked into the theater. It was hours before rehearsal, but someone had to be here, the lights were on. “Hello!” The 11 year old called out. “Is anyone here?” There was no response at first.... more
    • Who? - Susan Bradby, Thu Mar 22 01:05
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