Darcy the Brave - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Without being heard by anyone, we made it back to the girls’ camp. We had to change into our pajamas by flashlight, if our cabin lights were on somebody probably would have noticed. I got changed first, but I realized I needed to do something before I went to bed for the night. Even though I had told Olga that she could have her book back, my curiosity got the better of me when we reached our cabin and I flipped it open. Woodrow had yet again written me a message.

‘He’s back here, and he seems very cross. Are you girls safe?’

‘We are.’ I respond. ‘I fought him back with words, if I tried to fight him with my fists I probably would be down there with you right now.’

‘Some of our citizens are worried for his well-being, as this is a majorly upsetting development for them. But for the level-headed and critical thinking majority of us, you’ve done us a great service.”

‘You helped. And thank you for telling me about Aranea.’

I’m about to close the book when I remember something Woodrow told me earlier about her. I write quickly, wanting to get my thoughts out as soon as I can.

‘By the way, Woodrow, what did you mean when you said Aranea was ‘double-dead’? How is that even possible?’

‘I guess to a living person like you it would be considered a coma. But to us, it feels as if she has died again. Her body is locked in her chamber along with everything she loved most, her favorite subjects left to suffer quietly without her. But it was a spell that put her in this state, and we know of a spell that can bring her out of it, as well.’

‘Why haven’t you used it yet?’

‘Just like the one that Kurt tried to trick you into using, it can only work if performed by someone who is alive. A witch’s magic would also be extremely beneficial for the spell to work. She has only been gone for seven years, which does not seem like much since I have been dead for over seventy, but with the princess’ return I guarantee that life down here for us shall be much, much better.’

“Hey girls, what do you think about doing one last spell?”

“Is it gonna fuck us over like this last one did?” Vira asks.

“No, this one’s to help Woodrow out. And hopefully the girl I met in Limbo.”

“I think I can do one more this vacation.” Olga says, nodding.

“All right, but only because we know this one’s for good reason.”

I turn back to the book. ‘Tell us.’

‘It will take me a few minutes to write it, but this is a spell that has to be performed at daybreak. I know it is late where you are. Get some sleep, girls.’

I shut the book and place it on the desk, silently whispering a “good night” to our dead friend. My thoughts drift back to the first time I picked up this book, and how different the person we spoke to through it treated us. The novelty of being the one to unlock the secrets of this book had worn off a while ago, sometime around the part where we realized how sick and twisted of a person Kurt truly was. But a good feeling was coming back to me now, having met two helpful people in the afterlife who had ended up turning out to be powerful and resourceful friends. As Vira and Olga crawled into their bunks, I crawled into bed with my notebook and a flashlight, pointing it downwards as I churned out my last poem for the night.
***
A Moment of Self-Reflection – A poem by Darcy Lilyanne Jay

Who am I? What have I proven myself to be?
I am not the first to wonder these,
But here is what I believe.

I’ve proven myself tonight,
By talking my way through a fight,
No awards won, my will is done,
And I’m left to meditate
Anticipate my future state.

I would like to say I’ve earned the title
Of ‘Darcy the Brave’,
Yet I feel I have only started
And have much farther to go.

No doubt, this villain wants my head
And there’s a target on my back
But somehow, I am numb to the idea
Of a possible future attack

Maybe I’m just prideful
Or now full of confidence
But whatever is filling me with power
I’ll gladly accept as fact

Who am I? What have I proven myself to be?
I’m the luckiest girl in the goddamn world.
And this luck won’t run out for a while.
***
Olga was the first one of us to wake up in the morning, and had already read the spell Woodrow had given us over and over. It was simple, all we needed was to do a chant while a white candle was lit, holding hands in a circle around a live spider. The sun was just starting to come up, it couldn’t be much later than five in the morning. The three of us gathered together, Vira placing one of her jarred spider specimens in the middle while I lit the white candle Olga had brought to camp. We kneeled around it, joined hands, and began to speak.

“Our princess, our maiden, our tragic prodigy. We ask you to come back to us, wherever you may be.”

The candle blew out by itself, and we knew something had happened, yet we couldn’t feel it. I re-lit the candle and the three of us did the ritual once again, but nothing happened to the candle this time.

“Did it work?” Vira asks.

“She was talking to me in my dreams earlier.” I respond. “Let’s go back to bed, and see if she talks to me before the wake-up call comes.”

Olga blows out the candle and we all go back to sleep. It feels instant, maybe Aranea wanted to see me as soon as possible. But it feels just as real and lucid as it did when I first met her, and she was eye-level with me this time, not looming over me like a giant.

“I felt something strange just now.” She begins. “It was like someone grabbed me, and then sharply pulled me downwards. Was this your doing?”

“I believe it was, Aranea.” I say, letting her name roll out of my mouth elegantly. “Our dead friend Woodrow told us of a spell that could bring you back from the dead. Or…at least the second dead? I’m still a bit unclear of what happened to you.”

“Ah, Woodrow. I’ve missed him. It will be nice to see him again. As well as the rest of my lovelies and dearies…you and your friends are dolls, every one of you. As for being unclear on what happened to me, you’ll hopefully remain that way. It is a tale I do not like to remember. But I must say, congratulations on figuring out one of my names.”

“Wait, one of-?”

But my dream is cut short, and the wake-up call is the culprit. Damn, time moves so strangely when it’s time to sleep!

“I think it’s working!” I tell the girls. “She said she was pulled downwards a little bit in Limbo, which means she’s heading towards Purgatory and hopefully back towards her body!”

“But she is not entirely back yet?” Olga asks.

“I don’t think so. I guess that means we keep going.”

And so it was. This is how the rest of our two weeks at camp went: wake up, do the ritual, meet Aranea in a dream, camp activities, bed, repeat. Aranea never told me what she meant by ‘one of’ her names, she only met with me in the dreamscape long enough to tell me what the progress was on her return to Purgatory. But something was becoming more clear, the features on her face and gown. Her face looked weary, weathered from age and time but still gentle. Pale skin and pinkish lips, dark gray stringy hair, and her eyes were red. This unsettled me at first, but I eventually grew used to them and felt a bit jealous of her. I love red.

She ended each of our interactions similarly in that time, by saying, ‘you’re dolls, every one of you’ or some variation. By the time camp was finished, Aranea was much closer to Purgatory, but we didn’t have time to do the ritual any more since that morning. Aranea had told me she could tell she was very close now, one more might be enough to bring her back all the way. Everything was packed, Vira’s insect specimens released back into the wild, and one by one the three of us loaded up our parents’ cars with our things and left the camp.

Remembering the hell trip that was the ride here, I put my earbuds back in, turned on some music, and texted Vira and Olga in a group chat. The wheels in my head were turning on full speed, and I knew exactly what we needed to do to save her.

‘Vira’s got the next sleepover, we know that.’ I text. ‘Olga, bring a white candle, Vira, use Ladybug as our specimen.’

Vira is first to respond. ‘Got it. I hope my mom didn’t let her die while we were at camp. I hired the boy who lives across the street from me to come over every two days or so to give her a cricket and check if her water needs refilling.’

‘Thankfully I do not have to worry about that with my pets.” Olga says next. “My dad loves my kitties.”

‘It was only 2 weeks, I’m sure she’s fine.’ I write back.

A minute or so passes, and I get a strange idea and tell it to the girls. ‘We need a group name for ourselves. I think I know exactly what it should be. Aranea has called us ‘dolls’ each time I’ve met with her, maybe we should be ‘The Dolls’.’

‘I say we jazz it up a bit. What kind of dolls are we? Not Barbie dolls, not porcelain dolls, ragdolls?’ Vira suggests.

‘Ragdolls sound dirty. What other types of dolls are there?’

‘How about Paperdolls? They’re cute, versatile, they don’t really break the way porcelain dolls do or can get their limbs popped off like Barbie dolls.’

‘Paperdolls feels about right.’ Vira responds. ‘Yeah, I think I like this.’

‘And we communicated to our new friends and everyone through paper just now, and now Aranea is calling us ‘dolls’! So we are paper dolls!’

‘It’s settled then. We’re the Paperdolls now.’

Dolls, every one of us.

I ended up falling asleep in the car again, not meeting Aranea this time. When I woke up my family was unloading the camping stuff back into its special storage places in the basement and garage. I brought the bag that held all my clothes upstairs with me, tossing the bug spray and campfire-smelling clothes in the laundry room and filling it with pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow. Even though I hadn’t slept in my own bed for a long while and was beginning to seriously miss it, one more night of being in a different bed tonight wasn’t going to hinder me any more than it already had.

Our families are used to the three of us planning impromptu sleepovers, this wasn’t anything new to them. Olga lives the farthest away from us, she has to have her dad drop her off at mine or Vira’s house, and the two of us have to be dropped off when it’s her turn to host as well. But Vira lives in the next housing development away from mine, which is a less-than-ten-minute bike ride away from my house.

One thing about when Vira hosts the sleepovers is that she spends the beginning of each sleepover cooking for us. Vira makes a main dish for us while her mom prepares a side and dessert. Sometimes they switch off and make something else, but the best part of a Vira sleepover is the food. Vira was making hot and mild wings for us, while her mom made jalapeño poppers and some kind of coconut cookie she called ‘bestitos de coco’. Olga arrived after me, and after I had already finished off a plate of wings and poppers.

The movie that night was a classic, Jim Henson’s “Labyrinth”. I couldn’t even bring myself to make fun of it since I secretly love it to pieces. …Except for the part with the fireys, that part deserves to have it ripped to shreds through mockery. Viktor joined us for the movie, with me still acting a bit unsure how to behave around him, but he enjoyed a few of my jokes. But this sleepover was not about getting me and him together, it was about getting Aranea back where she belonged.

Olga, the earliest riser of all of us, made sure we all woke up at dawn the next morning. Vira got Ladybug out of her habitat while Olga lit the candle using a matchbox she managed to smuggle out of Vira’s kitchen. The three of us join hands one last time, and chant our final chant.

“Our princess, our maiden, our tragic prodigy. We ask you to come back to us, wherever you may be.”
On cue, the candle went out and we went back to bed. Vira made sure the smoke wasn’t going to set off the fire alarm in her room, and fell asleep cuddling Olga’s sleeping bag. I was the last to fall asleep, a bit too excited to see if we had succeeded.

Aranea was a silhouette again this time, fuzzy and static-looking like the first time I met her in a dream. I couldn’t even tell if the silhouette was facing towards me or away from me. I thought this was odd, but there had to be some reason. Before I could speak, Aranea cut me off, speaking first.

“You have succeeded, Darcy. I am back, no longer double-dead. But there has been a…strange development that I must plan for. Please know that I am sorry to drag you into this, but you have been brave thus far and I am going to need to enlist your help again in the future.”

“How much farther into the future?”

“That I do not know. But your friend with the book, tell her to keep a close eye on it in case there is a change. I will signal when I am in need of your services again.”

I salute, then bow, not knowing which is more appropriate for a princess. “Absolutely, your highness.”

“There is no need to call me that. We are friends, calling me just ‘Princess’ or ‘Aranea’ will do. I’m afraid this is goodbye for now, but Darcy?”

Her silhouette turned to me, bowing its head slightly. “Thank you.”

I woke up a while later, feeling refreshed and enlightened. I was eager to go out and live my life, be it a relaxing or exciting one, with the promise that our quest was not yet over. But whenever she needed me next, I would be ready.