The Theory of Tragedy

         Once upon a time I died. Once upon a time I realized there was some truth to Freytag's Pyramid theory because it all started in a very clichéd way the muses would be proud of. Once upon a time, on a dark and stormy night, I died.

         “Don’t blink. Don’t blink. Don’t cringe. Don’t blink. It’ll all be over soon.”
         But she could barely hear the words over the unearthly sounds of her own screams. Comforting hands tried to smooth sweat tangled tendrils of long muddy, brown hair, but were batted away by claw-like talons of a creature that had once been human. Now the creature looked very, very dead and horrifying at it clawed at the screaming form that was stretched out on the stone like a bloody sacrifice. Blood trickled down the sides of her mouth, hacked up from torn lungs and vocal cords. Her own will kept her alive and it did so purely out of fear. Unwanted caresses, lips, thin tendrils of blood where there hadn’t been bloody before. But she never stopped screaming. That was the worst part. Eyes rolled back until only two bruised, pale mass showed issuing screams no one should ever have to hear.

         Alyse Devancled knew that madness came slowly. A lot like common sense came to a man. It was therefore, not a product of her mind when she saw the blood trailing down her legs or the tight feeling she was suddenly experiencing in her throat. The only thing that could possibly be a product of an unstable mind was the way in which she was reacting to it all. Alyse stared down at her legs as best she could from her position on the ground wondering what the hell had happened to her as calmly and coolly as if she happened to be contemplating the weather. Her dull, raspy voice clicked off a list of injuries. “Pain in…well…pain, blood on legs. Wire wrapped around neck. Blood running down neck. Broken arm. Broken hips. Cracked skull.” She paused in her doctor-esque evaluation of herself and then summarized. “Rape or mugging. Possibly both.”
         She hadn’t quite the mental capacity to understand why or what happened or feel appalled by any of it. She didn’t even both to worry about those who were likely searching for her. Under any other circumstance, Alyse would worry about her family and few friends. But now? Now the words didn’t even register in her mind. Gingerly she stood, ignoring the blaring pain in her hips and seeming to be aware of the fact that someone in her condition would never be able to stand. “Hello?” she called dully.
         “Hello indeed.” Responded a voice. “Didn’t expect the bastards to let this happen to you, but I’ll deal with that later.”
         Bruised, pulpy eyes that might have once been green, stared emotionlessly at the figure that was suddenly standing in the line of sight. “Shall we get you to somewhere you can clean up?”
         “Yes please.” Came the dull, hoarse voice.
         A long-fingered, slightly calloused hand took Alyse’s limp one and they disappeared.

***

         It seemed the world rocked to and fro as Alyse woke. She put a hand to her head in a futile attempt to make the world cease its spinning dance as she cracked open an eye and looked about. Propped up in the corner of the room that wouldn’t quite quit spinning was a man. Or well…what looked like a man. Alyse found that when she focused on him, the spinning didn’t matter. The man was tall, a good deal taller than she in any case. He was neither thin nor fat, rather lanky, but the way he held himself was like that of a cat, concealed power hidden in as simple an act as lounging against a wall. He was pale in complexion, far paler than anyone should be and not be dead. But he wasn’t dead. He was very much alive. His hair was every color of dark earthy tones and as he shifted his weight she caught a glimpse of both forest green and deep violet, even a bit of root-colored brown. As disturbing as it ought to have looked, it was quite a nice effect for he wore the changing strands long and down around his shoulders. The hair swirled in an invisible breeze seeming almost prehensile. And just when Alyse thought the man could look no stranger, he smiled and she caught sight of bright golden eyes, sharp incisors, and elegantly pointed ears. “Morning, luv!” he greeted as he pushed away from the wall to come stand by where she was laying. “My name is Owen, but you can call me Puck…or Owen…actually it really doesn’t matter much to me. How about you call me both and see if you can surprise me. I’ll try to guess which name you’ll say next!”
         Alyse blinked and the man…thing…Owen/Puck, burst into gut-busting laughter that caused him to double over. “You’re abso-bloody-lutely confused!”
         Alyse, who hadn’t quite known what to say or think was saved by the entrance of a pale, ghostly woman. “Puck, please stop antagonizing our guest.”
         Puck quit laughing long enough to shoot a sneer at the newcomer. “You’re just jealous because I found her first. Honestly, Oracle, your high and might attitude won’t get you anywhere with our lord.”
         The ghostly woman, Oracle—Alyse placed the name to the shifting face—ignored Owen/Puck and smiled down at Alyse. “Hello, Alyse, dear. Do you know what happened?”
         Alyse paused for a moment to consider everything. She remembered pain. She remembered pain and blood and something that made her skin crawl in terror. That was all she remembered so cautiously, Alyse shook her head and whispered, “Not really.”
         “It’s to be expected of course.” The ghost-woman soothed her. “I do hate to be the one to tell you this—“
         “Then let me!” Owen/Puck interrupted. “Alyse, love of my life, you’re dead. Dead as a doornail. You kicked the proverbial can to the farm. Welcome to your afterlife.”

~*~*~

Chapter One: The Looking Glass Gate

         It is a commonly known fact that only a child would believe something as radical as dying and appearing in a world to meet the trickster from Shakespearian literature and a beautiful ghost. Perhaps though, all the grown-up in Alyse had been knocked out of her when she found herself attacked and clinging to some child-like innocence that was horribly threatened by the event. Alyse had always prided herself on being pragmatic, although some would call her cynical. If she had ever believed in faeries or magic worlds it would have had to have been when she was very, very small—although looking at her one would scarcely believe she was ever a child. Perhaps like Athena she had sprung from someone’s mind, fully grown, screaming some war cry against the world. People like Alyse have never been children…could never have been children.
         
         Until now.

         A very different sort of Alyse blinked up at the ghost-woman floating before her. “Is this Heaven then?”
         “No, dear. This is…” she paused and looked to Puck as if searching for the word. “You spend more time around the Seen. How would you say it?”
         Puck looked momentarily serious and then grinned to ruin the effect. “Neverland, Wonderland, the Fae Kingdom, Avalon…think of all the fairy tales of magic lands you’ve ever heard of and you have a rough estimation of this…place…realm is a better word for it.”
         Something sparked in Alyse’s mind and she smiled in spite of the situation. “Honestly?”
         Puck smirked. “Why ever would I lie about this? Yes, luv: honestly.”
         “What…what happened exactly?” Alyse asked after a long moment of silence in which she attempted to process all the information and failed rather miserably.
         Oracle and Puck shared a look. “We’re not entirely sure about the wherefores and the whyfores, but we do know that you were meant to die and come here.”
         “I’m dead?” Alyse wondered aloud and set about to lightly poking herself.
         She felt solid, real, and in all, not terribly dead.

          Darkness. Pavement. Dark street. “Alyse, would you like me to walk you home?”
         Rolled eyes. “Patrick, what kind of girl do you think I am? I only live a block from here. It’s fine, go back inside, it’s cold and you’re not wearing a coat.”
         “Alyse…please? Carrie would never forgive me if anything happened to you that I could prevent.”
         “Then tell Carrie to lay it on my head. I take people’s lives into my hands every day. Do you honestly think it’s that hard to do to my own life?”
         “Reckless to prove something?”
         A frustrated sigh. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to be practical. You’d  have to walk home alone if you dropped me off. Something could just as easily happen to you.”
         “But I’m male. It’s less likely.”
         “Stop arguing with me, Patrick. Goodnight, tell Carrie I’ll see her tomorrow.”
         Rain fell. Slowly at first. Keep to the sides of the buildings. Under the awnings. Keep to the sides…keep your eyes ahead…try not to scream.

         “Dead?” Alyse repeated. “But why?”
         “You were meant to be here. You’re coming was foretold.”
         Alyse nibbled her lower lip idly. “Foretold? Like a prophecy? By whom?”
         “Me.” Oracle admitted with a sweet smile.
         “Well how do you know for sure I’m the one in this prophecy and what is the prophecy person supposed to do? And—“
         She was interrupted by Puck’s sudden, harsh laugh. “I think that’s enough questions. You’re still recovering. You’re dead, but your soul was resisting the trip here. You’re probably feeling very tired by now.”
         Long, pianist like hands and smooth, graceful fingers brushed over her pale cheeks and Alyse found that she did feel very tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep. She barely had time to whisper a “goodnight and thanks.” Before slipping into the cocoon of sleep.”

***

         Little Annie Rowe was only six years old when she met the faeries. She saw them constantly. Out of the corner of her eyes, playing about the cupboards, in the drainage ditch across the street, between the folds of the blinds, and along the baseboards. They were a rainbow of different colors and they flittered and danced like they were there for her own personal entertainment. Once she mentioned them to her mother. Her mother looked directly at them and smiled, but she didn’t really see them. If she had seen them, Annie knew her reaction would have been much more happy. The faeries made Annie very happy. There were always there when she needed to see them. They were there when she and her mommy moved from her grandparents house after grandma yelled at mommy until she sobbed. They were there when mommy took them to the scary motel and the smelly man tried to grab Annie. There were there when Annie had to sit alone in the dark, drafty house and wait anxiously for mommy to come home. They were there when Annie found the mirror in the back of mommy’s closest along with the gun and dark splotches that ran along the walls. Annie wasn’t sure what the dark splotches were so she called them water. After all, there were tons of water splotches in the bathroom. Although it seemed that those splotches were a different color. But that’s what mommy always said they were. Leaning against the back wall, however, was something to take her attention of the nasty, gleaming gun, and the dark splotches. It was a mirror. The mirror was as tall as Annie and a shiny golden color. Faeries danced along the pretty swirling top of the mirror and poked at the glittering glass. To Annie’s very great surprise, the glass jiggled. Annie blinked in awe and then giggled. “Do that again!” she ordered the faeries.
         So they did. The glass jiggled once more and danced…it was like jello, not water. It danced like her jello did when mommy wasn’t watching. She liked to poke at the colorful squares and watch them wobble and jiggle and always return to their original shape. The mirror did it too! Annie reached out a finger to poke it too, but a yellow faerie batted her hand away. “Oh.” She muttered slightly disappointed that she couldn’t touch it too.
         And then she heard the front door opening, so quick as a flash, Annie shut the closet door and ran to go greet her mother.

***

         The world was coming back to Alyse in a rush of memories, sounds, and sensations. “Kind of you to finally wake up.” A deep voice intoned.
         Alyse’s shot open the rest of the way and she stared blatantly at her new visitor. He was very tall, but not a giant. He was very much like Puck. A lanky cat. Strong and agile, all resting inside a very deceiving looking figure. But that was were his similarities with the trickster ended. There was something off about the man. He kept shifting. It was like he was there, but he wasn’t. His skin was a silvery white and his hair was all the darkest colors that she could think of. Every time he shifted though, she saw this blood red color shine through the rest. His hair was long, but tied back at the nape. And his eyes…they were red. Like wine. Unlike the rest of him, his eyes did not shift. They stayed in the exact same place but always seemed properly placed on his face. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He was like a statue made of water. He defied all rational explanation and contradicted himself by being as solid and real as she. “Hello.” She finally managed suddenly determined to not look like a fool in front of this intimidating man.
         The man didn’t reply. He didn’t even seem to hear her. Alyse caught her lower lips between her teeth and worried it as she tried to understand why the man was being so insufferably rude to her. “Hello?” she asked again.          
         He surprised her by replying with an irritable, “I heard you the first time.”
         “Well then, polite people respond when they’re greeted.” Alyse said matter of factually. “So quit being rude and staring at me. I don’t appreciate it.”
         She nearly fell off the bed when the man cracked a tiny smile and inclined his head. “I am your caretaker.”
         “Caretaker? I’m not five.” Alyse protested.
         “But you are vulnerable here and you do not know your way through the kingdoms.”
         Alyse sighed because she knew he was correct. She barely grasped that fact that she wasn’t anywhere rational, let alone knew how to get around in the make-believe world. So in the end she conceded by nodding. “Fair enough. So what’s your name, caretaker?”
         He leveled her with a long look that made Alyse want to jump out of bed and flee. The gleam in his eyes was ancient, untrustworthy, malicious. She couldn’t stand being alone with him and couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of having him protecting her. He seemed like the very thing Alyse wanted to be protected from. She tried locking gazes with him, staring him down, proving that she wasn’t afraid, but she was and she couldn’t hide that fact. His red eyes were wide and unblinking and filled with things Alyse didn’t want to think about. She dropped her eyes and tried to find the floor interesting while still watching his movements with her peripheral vision. “You have no need for my name.” he intoned dangerously.
         And with a blink, he vanished. Alyse’s let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.