mg_10 cr0wl dennis browne rebooted the magic modpod and set to work, his fingers gliding over the keys with purposeful precision, each stroke a stab in the dark, hitting its target as if blindness was the new way to see and darkness was light turned inside out. graham sat on the leather seat, his arms folded against his chest, rising and falling with his breathing. the helmet was in place, fastened with a strap around his chin, tri-colored wires feeding him swirling images like a mother's umbilical cord enriching the placenta of its growing child. kufraya was in his lap, finally asleep, exhausted from the continuous fear of another attack. she laid her fragile head upon graham's thigh and kept her wings tucked in tight. dennnis browne blasted the stereo as he worked, singing along with abandonment, his voice sounding like the off key howl of a junkyard dog. graham paid no attention for he was back within that place we all go but can never see. this time was different than the last. it was a party of teenagers, but the events had changed as if time had passed. there was whispering talk floating around him as he moved about the crowd. plans were being discussed about a new game. he heard a stranger say "seven minutes in heaven." the next thing he knew, amongst the giddy commotion and shuffling about, someone was grabbing his hand. it felt like a small bird seeking shelter. he turned and there was molly. she was wearing a vintage cashmere sweater with pearl buttons over a black dress mid thigh. she was barefoot. blond curls hung to her shoulders. she smelled like brushed lavender. there was a red glass bead necklace that hugged her clavicle. "i pick you," she said, and her simple but eloquent statement was not only audible but appeared above her head in a word balloon, as if life was a graphic novel we all create in our heads. and then in classic dream confusion and perplexity, all movement froze except for graham. he reached up in the space above and removed the words like fruit from a tree. he removed a small, red pocket journal from his jeans and placed them inside it one by one where he could save them like a crow snatching pieces of broken colored glass where no one had discovered them before. activity resumed, like a play button pressed and he permitted her to lead him through the crowd to a small room, not much bigger than a closet. she opened the door and he followed her. once inside, he could no longer see her but heard her shallow hushed breathing. he felt the feather touch of her fingers as they settled like falling leaves on his shoulders. her fragrance was strong and her scent was something more than flowers. suddenly all went blank. 101029 ... cr0wl "not again!" graham whined, sounding like an old tin toy that someone's grandfather used to wind with a crank and it moved its mouth like a man and shrieked until the physics failed. "shut the fuck up," dennis browne said, sternly, as if he had heard something suspicious outside the rolling gypsy cart and had stopped the magic modpod, yanking graham from new molly's sensual dream. "listen..." graham remained silent and held tight to kufraya's wings lest she bolt out of fear straight up through the sunroof. he could feel the tension in her body trying to spring forth. the leather pouch, containing graham's messages, missives, and artwork, were tucked cozily inside, wrapped in a white handkerchief that he had written upon with the juice of a sprig of pokeberries; the letters mg, of course. "motherfucker!" dennis said, and he rushed to the cupboard and snatched the shotgun. he grabbed the last of the shells and stuffed them in his suit jacket pocket. one fell to the checkerboard floor and he hastily picked it up, throwing graham a look of emergency. "is there another tiger?" graham asked. he could feel his throat going dry. kufraya pushed against his hold with such force one of her wings came loose and she flapped it against his face, cutting his lip. he instinctively reached out and stopped her, and with careful consideration eased her wing back down into its place of rest. "there's three," dennis browne said, spitting out the open side window as if he had to rid his body of this dangerous knowledge. "what?!" graham gasped. "what can i do to help?" he dabbed at his wound with his fingers. "nothing right now," dennis browne said. "i only saw them in the distance. but they are following us. we need to go faster!" he jutted up through the sunroof and screamed at the top of his lungs, "ANDIAMO!!!" balthazar, already catching the feral scent of the approaching tigers, had picked up his pace, but now with his master's desperate plea, he obeyed valiantly. he knocked graham back against the seat, causing him to let go of his hold on kufraya. sensing the freedom, she beat her wings and flew upwards. for one second she was unrestrained. oh, if we could have been in her mind during that moment of erased time. so many things we could wonder. curiouser...and...curiouser. but alas, graham trapped her by her long tail feathers and whipped her back into his arms with vehemence. "don't you ever fly away from me unless i release you!" he shouted and he surprised himself by what he uttered as if his love was multiplying like cell division. as if he could be so in love with every one he met. and then that's just about how things played out. balthazar kept up his quickened pace, running like a greyhound chasing a fake rabbit and the three tigers of what appeared to be siberian, pursued them along the road through hardwood trees painted in autumn's fire, onwards up hill and dale, forest and fjord, crossing streams, always moving forwards. "well, well," dennis browne said, setting the shotgun at rest on his shoulder. "looks like we're all good for now." he took a mason jar from the shelf, twisted open the tin lid and pulled out a piece of jerky. what meat it consisted of is your guess. "put the helmet back on. you have seven minutes in heaven." graham smiled. happiness is now, he mused. 101030 ... crowli as the lock clicked, the lid to the box opened as if it was a spring loaded jack in the box waiting patiently to be set free. the instantaneous assault of blinding bright light that accompanied it, however, was frightening. molly squeezed her eyes tightly closed in an effort to assuage the temporary damage, however her pinpoint pupils simply responded with more unforgiving blasts of green brilliance. “jesus christ! what the hell is going on?” molly shouted into the open air gazebo. her words sounded strangled to her own ears and went unanswered in the stillness. "hello?" molly shot forth, hoping to get the attention of the queen, thinking that there would be no possibility that anyone could have slept through what she had just seen. "are you still there?" she called out again, but was met only with silence. molly rubbed at her eyes and slowly opened and closed them in an effort to see something. anything. the swirls of green and silver that mixed with the candle and dimming firelight along with the colorful paper lanterns had taken on an otherworldly, dream-like quality, yet molly was five hundred percent sure she hadn’t been sleeping. as her vision gradually returned to normal, molly regarded the colorful mosaic box that stood open on the table in front of her, the key still inserted in the lock. she turned around to look at the queen. the couch was vacant. “that’s weird,” molly said out loud. “wonder where she made off to?” for some unexplainable reason, molly was not afraid of being alone, and like a curious child eager to open her final christmas present, molly turned back to the table and pulled the box closer to her. she was instantly puzzled that the box was no longer heavy. molly remembered that it had felt like it was filled with coins or some other treasure when she had lifted it down from the mantle, but now it simply had the expected weight of a wooden box, and all that was inside it was a torn piece of note paper, a clipping from what looked like a newspaper, a sealed envelope, and a photograph. 'curiouser and curiouser...' molly said to herself. molly reached inside the box, and pulled out the photo. she examined it carefully and saw that it was of herself and graham. ‘we were dressed up to the nines,’ molly thought, noticing her body hugging “little black dress” and graham’s striking dark pinstriped suit. her heart lurched in her chest as she regarded his handsome face. they were facing one another and holding hands while staring into each others eyes. they both wore serious expressions and appeared to have no interest in the photographer let alone in looking at the camera. molly considered that she and graham had looked older than fourteen in the picture, and at the same time she realized she had no recollection of it being taken. molly set down the photograph and picked up the next piece of paper. it looked as though it was a page torn from a journal of some sort. the letters ‘mg’ were printed in curvy handwriting across the top of the page with a dark brown paint of some sort. it looked like it was written with a stick dipped in blood. below the mg letters was a short poem, written in the same manner. we are sunrise we are sunset unending circle of love in dreams molly smiled, recognizing the handwriting immediately. the first and third lines were grahams, while the second and fourth were her own, and although she had no memory of having written it, she felt a strange warmth begin in her belly and creep up the front of her neck. molly picked up the photograph once again and stared at it more thoroughly. she noticed her mature body in the photograph, and in the next instant looked down at her own chest with narrowing eyes. molly’s heart pounded as thoughts raced like reels were being spliced together forming a vision of oblique understanding. ‘oh my god...this is our future. and there we are graham, we look like we love each other.’ molly battled the turmoil of emotions within her. she had never felt more distanced from her graham than she did right now. did she love him? would she? did he love her? molly set the photo down next to the poem, and picking up the sealed envelope she noted it was blank on the front. slicing through the top of the fold with her index finger, she freed the seal and pulled out the heavy cardboard contained within. it was an invitation to a party. it simply stated “you’re invited” with instructions to arrive at midnight, at “the usual place.” 'i wonder if this is for me?’ molly queried within her mind, then shrugging, set down the invitation to reach for the clipping. molly fingered the paper, and realized what she had thought was newsprint actually was not. on closer inspection it was the torn page from a paperback book...black ink on a white page, but torn right down the middle as if an angry hand had intended to harm the words. though it was impossible to ascertain the exact meaning of what was printed on the page, molly’s eyes were immediately drawn to the words, “tiger king.” “oh my god, it’s a page from mg!” she exclaimed excitedly. “wonder where the rest of it is?” molly was so intent on her discovery and lost in a world of unique possibilities that she never paid any attention to the emerald green butterfly that had quietly perched itself upon the massive pine mantle where the multicolored box had formerly been. she also did not notice that just outside the gazebo on the stone steps sat a teenage girl, perhaps a few years older than molly. she had dyed-black hair cut into a spiky, punky 'do' and her creamy ivory skin was set off in stark contrast to the black lipstick and black eyeliner that adorned her delicate features. she wore all black. a square mirror rested on her lap, and a black coach bag sat next to her thigh, and while one hand slapped against her knee to the beat, beat, beat of some unknown tune that filtered through her headphones, she intently watched molly with perplexed curiosity. 101031 ... cr0wl the leather helmet was blinking green as it sat where graham had thrown it in his previous panic. he anticpated returning to new molly's dream. the last thing he remembered was smelling molly's flowery fragrance, the hush of her bubble-gum breath next to his cheek. he was pressed up against her in the confines of a pantry closet. he had never been so close to a girl before and he felt himself trembling. he wanted to kiss her for this is what he knew she wanted, but it was his call, he learned. she would not comply until he requested. yet, the pursuing tigers were an unmitigated presence he could not shake. he had read about the adventures of sir rillianson in his school books and how he had been attacked by a tiger. this is not how he imagined himself dying and so he tried not to think about it, just like someone ignoring the throes of love. he picked it up and put it on, checking to see if the wiring was intact and plugged in. all was set. red, green, and yellow, right where they should be. dennis browne was not himself, however. he was frightened, wild-eyed and desperate, that was to be sure. he had been tracked by tigers before, but never three. he only had two shells left. that would give him three shots, so there was no chance to make any mistakes. he had to be perfect. but no one is perfect. neglecting to buys shells would be his downfall. well, we all die of something, he thought, consoling himself. there was little he was afraid of now that his love had died, except death itself. not what would happen to his soul, for that he was anticipating, moreover it was the way he would die. still, he set to work at the magic modpod, dialing graham inside of new molly's dream. he would serve others until his final breath. new molly remained where graham left her and new graham, when he fell through the doorway. they went to sleep in the cradling arms of the tiger king, but he had presently left them and now they snuggled up with each other, lost to reality, enveloped by pure self immersion. and so, as graham listened to the plaintive accordion and piano of yann tiersen piped along with the alcohol and thc, like platelets and white blood cells through his arteries and veins, into the gel-bud earphones collaborating with the digitalization of electricity, he relaxed as much as he could, sinking down in the recesses of the giving, dilapidated, leather chair. he held tight to kufraya for he could feel that her feet were spring-loaded. she would bolt at the first sign of his weakness. graham knew her wound had not healed completely. he had to get medicine for her. with this concentrated speculation drilling a hole into his brain, he closed his eyes to the blood buzz enveloping him. he reopened them once he gained entrance into new molly's dream. he was stepping along a city side street, past cafes, ice cream shoppes, and the homes of college professors. mature oaks, maples, and crabapples provided shade and comfort. vespas puttered past. he came to a black iron gate. it was unlocked and he lifted the latch, pushed it open. it creaked for the want of oil. there was a fountain trickling under the canopy of a spreading redbud tree. a statue of a naked goddess pouring water from a basin where coins enticed the seeking hands of children. he was stepping into an english garden full of tea roses, meticulously cared for and bright zinnia, phlox, lantana, bergamot, and lapididria, delphinium, and datura, rosemary and marigolds. the path had turned to moss laden brick and he stepped with a reverence for the beauty one man can create with hard work and vision. he entered a brownstone apartment building, and paused inside the small foyer, his worn doc marten boots pressed against the beehive black and white marble tiles. on one wall under a chagall-like painting he discovered a row of brass mail slots with names and numbers pressed from a label gun, white letters on a red background. he looked close and found molly's name and the number three. above the mail slot, also brass, was an intercom with a pearl button that said, "push." he pushed it. "graham?" it was molly's voice muffled by a simple microphone system. "hey molly," he called back. seconds later, he heard a raucous buzzing indicating he could open the inner door of the foyer. it was oak and had stained glass windows and a silver cast knob. he turned it and stepped inside. the staircase was narrow and wooden with a ballistered railing. he ascended to the third floor, enjoying the framed art, photographs, and paintings. he stepped upon a persian runner the length of the polished wood floor and reached molly's apartment. she had a vase of stargazer lilies sitting on an old lobster trap next to her entrance. graham tapped three times on the heavy, stained door. she opened it. god, she's beautiful, graham thought, feeling his breath catch in his throat like a field mouse hanging in the jaws of a farm cat. "hello," she said, turning and pulling the door open to welcome him. "hey," he returned. she closed the door and graham looked around. the front room was a collage of color and texture, bohemian chic, with plants, flowers, and a friendly mutt, asleep on the couch. he smelled cinnamon and ginger. he had been there before he remembered. he turned around and molly had stepped closer to him. he felt a magnetic pull towards her. train cars connecting. plug into socket. it all happened so fast. a butterfly landing on a flower. suddenly everything went blank. 101102 ... crowli "aw shit....there goes my silver bullet." grayson mumbled. she was multitasking under the influence again and failing miserably. attempting to remove her cigarettes from her bag while balancing the can of coors light on the mirror in her lap had turned out to be a bad idea, because the can had slid off and bounced end over end down the two steps below her perch. 'way to cut your buzz back, ya moron' she thought, berating herself for her drunken clumsiness as she peered into the darkness to see the can's dented open mouth foaming into the grass. she was on her fifth beer of six. she set the mirror onto the planked floor. gray's fingers searched deep within the concealed confines of her bag, and when they met their target, out came a brand new green and white pack of marlboro menthols. she breathed the crisp night air deeply and felt relaxation arrive even before she pulled on the plastic strip to free the seal. she expertly unwound the cardboard box from it's plastic wrapper, and the slightly sweet scent of tobacco was instantly set free as she absently tapped the pack three times against her palm out of habit. reaching into the secret inside pocket of her faux fur lined black dakine hoodie, grayson retrieved he last can of coors light along with her lighter, and immediately got to work on the tasks at hand. she slid a black fingernail underneath the pop top and took a long draw of the fizzing ale, setting it down only to light her cigarette with her new black lighter that was adorned with a silver skull and crossbones. gray sucked in the burning tobacco and continued to watch molly stare into space. as she methodically inhaled the smoke into her lungs she amused herself in the silence by alternating between exhaling in a thin blue stream and skillfully creating perfect narrow rings that wafted up into the wooden rafters of the gazebo. 'she looks like a love-sick little girl,' grayson thought to herself with a slightly disgusted huff. 'guess she found the picture of her and graham.' "well, here goes nothing!" grayson whispered into the cricket infused moonlit night, as she stood up and turned around to ascend the final step. she left her bag and mirror where they were, and carrying her beer in one hand and the small length of her lit smoke in the other, she stealthily crept toward molly. she was so completely lost in her reverie, that when gray tapped molly on the shoulder and said, "hey mol," the girl jumped out of the chair and screeched a sound that could only be characterized as the distress call of a severely frightened bird. "it's about time you got here, sister." grayson said to molly, raising her right silver ring pierced eyebrow and sounding very certain and matter-of-fact. "i've been waiting for ya." molly opened her mouth to speak but was at a complete loss for words for the confusion created simply by the punk girl's look combined with the surprise arrival had rendered her speechless.  grayson looked like a walking contradiction between black and white. her jet black hair, eyes, lips and nails were diametric opposites to her fair skin, and she wore black skinny jeans slung low, with a skin tight black 'citizen cope' concert tee shirt that just grazed her pierced navel. a tiny black butterfly tattoo adorned the 'tickle spot' on the creamy white flesh covering the front of her hip, and only revealed itself with certain ways she carried herself.   "who....who... are you?" molly stammered, sitting back down in her chair slowly while never taking her curious eyes off of the overall picture of grayson's intriguing persona.  grayson flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette with no regard to where it would land, and proceeded to drop the spent but still glowing butt onto the floor. she extinguished the burn with a quick tap from the toe of her black suede ugg boot before she walked over to the small glass topped table. she plopped into the remaining wrought iron chair next to molly and set her beer down in front of her.     gray tapped her black polished fingernail impatiently on the glass, and appeared to be calculating her response, when molly asked again, "well....are you going to answer me? who are you?" grayson lifted her eyes to regard molly directly, and ignoring her question, she said, "well....i see you found my box, huh?" "your box?" molly asked quizzically, her hand reaching instinctively to touch the key that still rested in it's keyhole. "i don't think so....this is my box." "well, let me rephrase myself, sister. i see you found my pen, which in turn is the key to my box, so i guess that means....ummmmmm.....that yes, you found my box. any questions?" gray cocked her head to a forty five degree angle and stared at molly, wearing her black lipstick lined sarcastic grin like a badge of honor. "but all this stuff....the picture, the torn page of mg...." molly was sputtering now, rambling uncertainly like an overflowing stream, and her voice trailed off quickly when grayson raised her hand in a communication cutting "talk to the hand" motion that clearly indicated her silent command for molly to 'shut up.'  "look sister, i don't know what to tell you about that stuff, but graham and i, we're tight. and that pen was a gift given to me a long time ago. i know who you are....graham told me all about you. and you know what?" gray paused for dramatic effect like she had learned in her theater arts class. "he is not here with you for a REASON." "wait a minute...." molly said, ignoring the derogatory comment and allowing her voice to escalate with excitement. "you know graham?! oh my god.... i have been searching for him all this time....we have something really, really special....look at this picture!" molly slid the photograph across the table and grayson stopped the shiny image with her fingertips before it could fly off the edge. she glanced offhandedly at the image and quickly looked away.  molly did not miss the shadow that crossed the punk girl's features. it looked like anger. 'or was it jealousy?' molly mused. "okay. here's the thing. graham left and he isn't coming back anytime soon." gray said dismissively, and she slid the photograph back to molly. "but i might be able to give you some information about where he is....it just depends on how much fun you are. do you like to party?" molly's heart skipped a beat, but she recovered quickly. she ignored the party question and dove directly into the knowledge she was desperate for. "what kind of information?" molly couldn't shake the feeling that she knew this girl from somewhere, but at the same time, in her gut, all she could feel was mistrust, misgiving and fear.  "here." the punk girl said said simply, and molly watched as her features seemed to soften somewhat as she dug into the front pocket of her skin-tight black jeans and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper that looked as though it had been handled thousands of times. chugging a big swallow of her beer, she tossed it to molly and spoke again, this time in a tone that could only be contrived as friendly. "i'm gray by the way. short for grayson. but don't ever let me hear you call me that, sister." molly nodded uncertainly, and allowed her attention to be quickly diverted to the paper. she flattened out the worn and crumpled piece and immediately yelped with pleasure.  it was the missing half of the 'mg' page she'd found in the box. molly pieced the two together, matching "mo" to "lly" on line one. once she'd succeeded, she immediately began to read. "what are you doing?" gray asked, perplexed.  "i'm going to read it....what does it look like i'm doing?" molly shot back, suspicious now of gray's knowledge of her graham. "it's our story....mine and graham's." "what you are looking for is on the back, dumb-ass." gray retorted impatiently. "if you want to have an understanding of what he's up to, look at the fucking picture.....shheeesh!" molly's thoughts immediately traveled back to the picture she'd seen earlier when she had been with the butterfly queen, and the familiar taste of bile rose into her throat as she considered how far out of his mind her graham had appeared in that sketch.  molly flipped both halves over and fit them together like she was completing a puzzle. it was graham alright, and he was in the woods somewhere with that man, dennis browne.  her graham had raw fear in every single one of his features. dennis browne was shown loading a shotgun, and it appeared as though he was preparing to fire into the air in an effort to spook two tigers lurking in the distance. in the sketch, neither graham nor dennis noticed the salivating tiger behind the tree. it had bared its teeth and had the intention to attack imprinted in its eyes. gray had peered over molly's shoulder to get a glance at the part of the image that had been missing from her half. it was the tiger, preparing for attack.  grayson winced as if she had been stung, then shrugged and went to retrieve her mirror and bag.  when molly looked up at gray to question her concerning what she knew about graham, she saw right away that the girl was definitely otherwise occupied. gray had laid the mirror on the table in front of her and had dispensed a small amount of a chunky white substance onto it's glimmering surface. a closed glass vial sat in between the pack of cigarettes and the beer can, and with the edge of a gold american express card she was meticulously chopping little white rocks into a small pile of fine crystals.  "what are you doing?" molly asked, momentarily abandoning the image of graham being hunted by a vicious feral tiger to study gray's unusual behavior. gray ignored molly, completely immersed with anticipation. it looked as though the girl had done this a few times before, molly reasoned, and though every alarm bell inside her head was sounding, she simply watched grayson, completely mesmerized with curious interest. suddenly satisfied with the chopping process, gray looked up at molly and said, "now, for the fun part...." she formed the fine white powder into two thin lines, and then pulled a twenty dollar bill from the recesses of her black bag. deftly rolling the bill into a make-shift straw, gray held it tightly between her thumb and index finger, and raising it to molly in a mock gesture of a 'toast,' offered a huge smile filled with perfectly straight white teeth. "cheers!" she uttered, licking her black lips. "are you planning to tell me what you know about graham?" molly asked, hoping the desperation she was feeling did not translate into her tone. grayson looked at her intently, then nodded with a knowing smile and whispered, "yes, in due time....but as for right now, let's have a little pick-me-up party....we have a gathering to attend  later, and there's someone that's going to be there that i think you should meet." 101103 ... . mg_11 101104 what's it to you? who go blather from