He opens his eyes. He sees a face hovering over him.
“Cairey? Are you alright?”
It’s one of the girls from the reflections. He cannot remember her name. He stares at her silently.
“You don’t look to good. Are you alright? Here-”
She extends her arm to him. He takes it & lets himself be pulled from his throne. He looks around. He’s in a large white room. People in masks are staring at him. He starts to remember.
“Where am I?” he asks her.
“Oh Cairey” she replies, “we’re at the Museum, don’t you remember? Do you remember me? Are you okay? What the fuck is going on with this? What did you do to him?”
She shouts at the camera crew.
“No. I don’t. I don’t remember anything. But wait. I think it’s coming back to me. I sort of remember. I was on an island for a long time. There was a dragon. & a boat. Were you there? I saw you there I think. Is this real? Where’s Simon?”
She looks horrified.
A voice booms through the room.
“What did you think of it Cairey? Was she everything you imagined?”
Cairey looks around at the crowd. A camera zooms into his face. A boom mic hovers over his head.
“I did not like it. I’d like to leave now.”
The voice booms back: “What do you mean Cairey? Were you not entertained?”
Ophelia takes his hand & whispers: “I think we need to get you out of here Cairey. Are you okay? Do you need help? I don’t like all of this. I don’t know what to do.”
Cairey relinquishes her hand. He says: “It’s okay. I don’t know either. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know any of you. But I think I have to go to the End now.”
“What? Cairey, what are you talking about?” She looks concerned.
He feels something in his back pocket. He reaches his hand to it. He feels the coins. He starts to remember.
“I’m okay” he lies, “You should go on without me. All of this, whatever it is. I’m going to go now.”
He leaves her behind. He feels drawn to the end of the hall. He passes through the curtain. He passes through tunnel & the gates. He passes through the corridor. & takes the elevator up. The voice in the elevator says: “Cairey? What are you doing? I told you there was no turning back! Have you forgotten your mission?”
“I don’t know you & I’m leaving” he replies. He flips the coins in his back pocket with his fingers. They provide him a sense of stability. They are real tangible things.
He exits the elevator into the Exhibition room. It’s still teeming with guests. He feels as if an eternity has passed since he had been there. He feels that his memories belong to someone else. Voices collide & echo against the towers of cubes. No one knows what’s happened to him. Everything has continued in his absence. The thought makes him smile. He feels calm. His head feels light & clear. He leaves the Exhibition & follows signs for the exit. Glowing red arrows lead him. He pauses, remembering the Lobby. It seems a half-remembered dream. He follows the next red arrow, & there it is. He has found the Side Exit. & just before leaving the Museum, coatless, to feel the miraculous rain falling like a blessing onto the infathomable street, he sees something on the wall to his right. He sees a painting hanging. It is a painting that he recognizes. It used to mean a lot to him, he recalls. It reminds him of his island. It reminds him of the relief he’d felt when he’d taken off the crown. This must be it, he thinks. This must be the ending. He sees a plaque beside the painting. It reads:
“Blue Skiddoo” by Cairey Turnbull
“This painting was created by Mr. Cairey Turnbull during his time at the General Arts Youniversity. It was the first part of a cycloroma he never finished. This painting was sold to the furniture retailer Flöskel & renamed “Blue Moon.” It went on to sell hundreds of thousands of copies. It was one of the most popular paintings of the decade. Unfortunately, Mr. Turnbull received no royalties for his work. His mental collapse upon discovering this has been the subject of many dissertations. Most conclude that he had simply gone insane. He had believed the original painting to be entirely lost until he discovered that it was on display at the Museum of Expressive Humanism, right here, by the side exit. Upon discovering it, he pressed his hands against the painting. To his surprise, they sank into it. He pressed his arms into the painting. Then he pressed his shoulders & then his head into the painting. The painting swallowed him entirely. All of this was captured by our security cameras. Experts have analyzed the footage, but to this day, there is still no explanation for what became of him. The mystery remains.”
INCONCLUSIVE FRAGMENT
...the nameless Knight in Lucremorn
grew weaker by the day.
His years passed slow as centuries.
His drifting never swayed.
His body aged from gold to grey.
His bones began to ache.
& still he floated all his life
reflecting on the lake.
So long therein he lay adrift,
his memories decayed.
He questioned if the Aphorapt
& Branche were but his dreams.
He wondered if the dragon’s words
were really what they seemed
& if the journey of his life
was but a madness spell
& if his drift in Lucremorn
was his eternal Hell
but voices in the moonlit mists
would sing to him at night
instilling doubts or assuring him
his ending was in sight
or warning him of other men
who’d quit before the rain
& lost therein their recompense
for loneliness & pain.
He hears a voice sing to him now
as death creeps through his veins
as breathing becomes tiresome
& thinking’s fully waned.
He shuts his eyes, convinced he’s failed
& hears this distant song,
a melody he’s long forgot
but still, he hums along,
& fading into death’s beyond
he feels a kiss of flame
upon his weather-beaten flesh
which thaws his frozen veins
as over him a thundercloud
of fire starts to swarm
& all amassed its contents fall
in droplets red & warm
& ruby coins of substance strange
engraved with foreign runes
fall upon his shuttered eyes
& on his lips are strewn.
He awakes convinced he’s died
& left the fallen earth.
Thus it’s with incredulence
he greets his own rebirth.
A whirlpool in the water forms
& in it starlight glows
as bright as day’s reflective beams
from mountaintops of snow.
& bearing forth the lake-locked star
is his abandoned muse.
She sings to him, “Oh Leaf, Poor Leaf,
what torments you’ve gone through.
The curse of Tinfasel has passed.
Our kingdom’s now renewed.
Yet there are other realms to free
& We have more to do...”
Selfie, Suicide Page 17
