A Run-In with the Watchmen

By the time I returned to the Morhaust Estate, the blood on my eyebrow had dried and my hands were shaking. My throat felt scraped raw.

I slipped in through the cellar door. The electric lights on the grounds shone through the slats and lit up the dusty bottles and rubbish that filled the cellar.

I dragged myself to the kitchen and closed the door behind me, waiting until I heard the tumblers in the lock fall before I turned around.

Stefan was standing by the sink, elbows-deep in soap suds, looking out the window at the rain-drowned garden. When he saw my swollen cheekbone and the trickle of blood from my hairline, his eyes widened. "Morgana? What happened?"

"I had a run-in with a couple of night watchmen." I rooted through the cupboards for the first aid kit. Stefan kept it as well-stocked as he could, just for situations like this. "They were looking for the Bone Keeper."

Stefan turned off the tap and strode over to me. He took my face in his hands; his palms were warm from the dishwater. "Oh, sweetheart. Better patch yourself up. I'll put on some milk."

I grabbed some disinfectant and sterile bandaging from the kit and stumbled into the bathroom. My heartbeat pounded in my temples; lights bloomed at the edges of my vision. I had to sit down. I felt like I had on the deck of the cargo ship, like the surface below me never stopped shifting.

Taking off my boots was a struggle. When I bent over, pain knifed through my ribs. I peeled off my pants and tossed them in the tub, turning on the hot water. The bathroom filled with steam. While I scrubbed my face and knees with water from the sink, I considered what it meant that the watchmen were searching for the Bone Keeper in Landen Town. Last I'd heard, a few bellringers had claimed her was in North Village. Before that, he was in Knightsbridge. That didn't meant anything, of course. The Bone Keeper had eyes and ears and mouths everywhere; one of his lackeys could easily have spread the word that he was in Landen Town, to throw off the watchmen.

But if it were true... a shiver gripped my spine.

I was wasting time in Landen Town, hiding int he staff's quarters under Morhaust, scrapping with watchmen. I needed to find Magdeleine, the Bone Keeper's minx, before the Bone Keeper found me.

Art by Anonymous

Text by Lucie MacAulay

In My Hands Or My Heart

You can tell me all your deepest secrets.

I will protect them for you.

I will cover them with my hair, or hide them behind my stars.

I will keep them behind this mask of mine.

I will carry them an ocean away, a world away, two worlds away. I will hide them behind my atlas.

I will hold them in my hands, and keep my fingers close together in case they try to escape.

They will nestle in the indent of my thumb, in the lines of my palms.

No secret is too big. If I need to, I will put your secrets at the bottom of the sea.

Or in the clouds, and turn them red and gold and green and purple with each sunrise and sunset.

And when you need them back, all you have to do is ask.

I'll give them back to you.

In different colours, from my hands or my hair or my mouth.

Safe and quiet.

Art by Chiara Bautista

Text by Lucie MacAulay

The New Monsters

They tell her it is nearly time to grow up. That doesn't make it any easier. She is a wish-making, star-chasing girl.

But she has bigger things to be. A change is coming. She can feel it in the air. In the cold, morning air when the monsters wake her with a cup of tea and jam puff. In the afternoon air when she rides the monsters' backs through the jungle; the air smells like banana leaves and rain and change.

She watches expectantly, waiting for the monsters to pick her up again. But they tell her she has a new monster-family to go to. She is horribly curious.

She cannot wait to show her new monster-family her star drawings. Her drawings of the oldest monster, of his bone-smooth wings and his clip-clopping hooves.

She is not sure what to pack. The monsters gave her many things. But so many of them cannot be wrapped and put into a suitcase. So many of them cannot be carried in a bag.

The monsters cannot deliver her to her new monster-family. The new monsters are not like them, the monsters tell her. These two types of monsters can never be in the same places, unless one of them hides under the bed or in the closet.

She is ready for her new monster-family.

"Better hide your horns," the oldest monster tells her.

He gently pulls her hair over them.

"You'll fit right in," he says.

Then he leaves her to wait for her new monster-family.

Art by Anonymous

Text by Lucie MacAulay

Feathers At The Door

Please have your feathers ready at the door; the show will not go on without them.

Come in, take a seat, there are plenty down at the front. Don't worry. You're already late, and you're already early.

Did you think this show had a beginning, middle, and end? Not at all. The show is continuous. It began before you arrived, here, in this world. It will continue after you've left.

You will get exactly what you paid for, nothing more, nothing less. Though you may experience some lingering effects, as if you were dreaming.

A single feather for admission. We will not accept more than one feather. Two feathers will not grant you access to the show two separate times.

Every feather is needed. You're needed to play your part. We know: you may not know your part yet. Do not be concerned. But do not hesitate.

You will leave your feather here. Like the show, it will exist even after you've left.

And do not mind if your feather looks like everyone else's. The point is not to tell them apart. It is that you have brought a feather.

So have it ready at the door, please. One feather per show.

Art by Anonymous

Text by Lucie MacAulay