Final Blog

Winthrop place was just a rundown apartment building on the wrong side of town, nudged between a laundry mat and coffee shop. In the scheme of things, it really didn't matter to anyone. When the occasional tourist wandered away from the nearby city and happened upon the town, they usually avoided the stretch that was Blackburn Ave and focused on the "local color of the Rose Records" or the "charming little skating pond". 

No, Winthrop didn't seem like much to anyone else. A traveler would know nothing of the handful of wanders who found their way to Winthrop, or the girls who lived in the flats, attempting to escape the past, and the small children who miraculously survived alone, or the shut-ins too afraid to set out on to the dimly lit hall of floor 9. 

But to Sail, she could feel all these things as she glanced around her faded apartment walls for the last time. There's something cursed here she thought. Or at least something tragic and forgotten.

Maybe is was this that had pulled her and the wicked Primrose girls to the building in the first place. Or had inspired the gothic mystery party. Or the reason that three murders had been tied to Winthrop Residents. Like the nameless girl that Sep had killed last night. 

Yes, something tragic. Sail tucked her chin under her shirt and sighed. This was the end; no more murder, carnivals, strange children, or disappearing handymen. This was a goodbye to Winthrop, one final time. And there was something tragic about that too. 

Of Course

Sail never thought that a magical, glowing rainbow would whisk her off to the fluorescent, futuristic floors of her neighborhood IKEA. I guess I’m really not meant for adventure, Sail mumbled to herself.

Two seconds ago she had been standing in the center of the Winthrop Woods, reaching out for the shining arc in front of her. This was supposed to be her change, her new life, an escape. But all the anticlimactic rainbow had done was carry her a mile west to the giant superstore, which was now filled with seemingly hundreds of people milling around. This is what I get for trying to dip my feet into the realm of magical realism, Sail sighed.

After wandering around the Swedish furniture and brightly colored door knob BOGO bins (and moping in her lack of daring escapades), Sail found herself among a crowd of shoppers listening to an announcement.  

Glancing around, she noticed many of them were from her old apartment building, and Sail remembered how the last time she was with all of them, a dead body was found.

Suddenly, the booming voice on the loudspeaker rang out, “Now, we will finally find the Winthrop murderer.”

This again, of course. Sail felt like that rainbow was still in the woods, laughing at her. “How’s this for adventure?”

One Year

It was too soon to return to her apartment. Too soon to be greeted to her graying kitchen and her tousled bed, probably with blankets still strewn on the floor from the last sleepy morning she'd awoken there, one year ago.
One year ago when her father had knocked on the door, crisp and professional as always, face revealing nothing. But his fist clenched around a rolled up newspaper does.

LOCAL GIRL REVEALS STAGED MURDER

a gulp, a slammed door, and clothes hastily shoved in a bag. And then goodbye. 

One year wasn't enough time to distance herself from that apartment and those girls. 

But the shady, green forrest that stretches its trunks and branches tall into the sky is shelter enough from that town.

There's nothing here but the rhythm of wind and leaves falling and sticks cracking apart. And the smell of a retreating spring shower.

And then, suddenly, a rainbow is raining across the woods to an unknown spot behind boulder. It whispers something unknown.
She knows she should go back to see those she left behind. Timma, Noel. 

But, one year isn't enough time to return to a town that sees your hands covered in blood. But one year is enough time to realize its time for something new.

sprint past the forrest

see that rainbow? it calls you

to journey forward 

#6 Powder Blue

She was woken up from her afternoon nap with a loud rap on her apartment door, a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and an annoyingly awake and chipper grin.

“C’mon, we’re going skating.” Noel had practically been jumping when he said it.

Sail had begrudgingly accepted the hot chocolate but not his offer.

“It will be fun!” He’d countered, “And I can start my research for your in depth exposé on the secret societies of Brookline Academy.”

“Society,” Sail had corrected him, “there’s only one at Brookline.” He shrugged, leaned against her doorway, and held out a pair of powder blue ice skates.

Half an hour later Sail found herself wrapped in a baby pink sweater stepping onto the gelid blue ice behind the Winthrop police station.

“So you guys were responsible for the mayor’s missing goldfish and replacing every album in Rose Records with whale sounds?”

Sail stumbled a little on the chipped ice. “Haha yep.”

Noel barked out a laugh, he seemed to find all their pranks amusing.

Sail winced. She hadn’t gotten to the big one yet, if she got to it.

Maybe he wouldn’t even remember about the giant pool of blood in the park. The town had virtually forgotten all about it only two weeks later.

As if someone could sense her guilt, the police station backdoor swung open, revealing two cops. But they paid no attention to Noel and Sail. Instead, they walked over to the other side of the pond with 3 inmates shuffling behind them, handcuffs and all.

Sail stopped skating, baffled.

“Oh yeah, they let the inmates out here sometimes,” Noel nonchalantly said, following her gaze, “aren’t they cute?” he half joked as they watched the criminals slip around on the ice.

A laugh escaped Sail’s chapped lips. All she could think of was Caroline and the other Primrose Girls out here in orange jumpers fumbling around, all of their pranks finally catching up with them.

Her cheeks reddened from laughter, joy bubbled up in her chest from the outrageous, amusing picture.

But then Sail remember she’d be out there with them. She’d been a part of all of it. She looked over at Noel, who was currently attempting a figure eight. He thought he was writing a story about missing goldfish and innocent jokes, but he completely oblivious to the, not-so-innocent,  pool of blood still weighing down on Sail’s chest.