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Fuchsia Spins by Moonlight Beneath a stark and flaming sky is a stage, embedded amongst the carnage of cracked cement and steel. The ruby moon bleeds a sallow light, colouring a horizon edged with shards of broken city. Upon the stage the dancers spin, oblivious to the ruins around them. Aware of nothing but the relentless rhythm of a song only they can hear. The flyer was headed Miss Fuchsia’s Dance Academy, printed on bright pink paper in a fancy type. Freya folded it in half and stared out the bus window at the unfamiliar streetscapes. She’d never been out this way before, never been further than Waratah Street Mall, and that was in her mother’s car. She glanced across at the other girls but they didn’t seem concerned. "So does anybody know where this dance academy is exactly?" Nobody answered. Freya doubted they’d even heard her over the combined din of the bus engine and Denise’s giggling. Kellie and Denise sat together on the back seat pouring over a Dolly magazine. Denise looked up. "Are we there yet?" Freya looked back out the window. "I don’t know where we are." She unfolded the flyer and read it again. "Clydesville Street bus stop it says, then two blocks on foot." "Two blocks!" exclaimed Kellie. "Next time I’m getting a lift for sure." "That’s if we’re going to come again," cut in Denise, looking out the window for the first time, her nose crinkling in distaste. "Miss Fuchsia’s might totally suck." She leant forward and grabbed the flyer from Freya’s hand. "Miss Fuchsia’s Modern Expressive Dance," she read out loud. "Sounds pretty weird to me." It sounded pretty weird to Freya too, but she decided to tag along anyway. Hanging out with those two beat babysitting her little sister Natalie any day, even if they were sports-mad. Last year they were crazy about gymnastics, this year it was dance classes. The bus lurched suddenly, then stopped, throwing the girls forward in their seats. The magazine slid to the floor. "Hey, watchit!" Kellie shouted at the driver. "Clydesville Street stop," he shouted back. "But how did he know which one we wanted?" asked Freya. The others weren’t listening. They whooped with excitement and scrambled for the exit. Freya followed, eyeing the driver with suspicion. She noticed that they were the only passengers left on the bus. "Modern Expressive Dance," sang Kellie, performing a pirouette in the middle of the road as the bus drove away. "It’s that way" Freya pointed ahead after checking the pink piece of paper for the twentieth time. "Terribly modern, don’t you think?" said Denise in an exaggerated accent. "Terribly, terribly modern…" The girls giggled uncontrollably as they walked. All except for Freya who studied the terrain. The pavement was cracked with crumbling curbs. Many of the shop fronts had been boarded up. Those that were still open displayed old and dusty-looking packages. There were people about. Old people mostly, bundled up in overcoats although it wasn’t really cold. Freya felt uncomfortable. She wished the others would keep their voices down and stop drawing attention to themselves. "Look!" exclaimed Kellie. "There it is on the next corner!" "Terribly modern," called out Denise in her posh voice, causing a renewed explosion of giggling. Terribly modern the building was not. Dusty pink with peeling paint, it looked as though it might have been a theatre in a previous life. "That’s gotta be it," said Denise, crossing her arms. "Jeez, what a dump." The four of them approached in silence. As they neared the cracked marble staircase the door opened suddenly and a woman stepped out. She was tall and thin, dressed in a pink leotard and long flowing skirts. Her silvery hair was loose, cascading over bony shoulders. She carried an earthenware jar in her hands. "Welcome girls," she called out. "You’re just in time. Class is just about to start." The girls looked across at one another before mounting the stairs in unison. Miss Fuchsia held the door open for them. "Ten dollars each, if you please," she said. Each girl scrambled in her purse, placing their money in the earthenware jar as they passed through the doorway. The space inside was large and dark and chilly in a damp sort of way. There were about forty teenaged girls there already, most of them dressed in tights and leotards. Freya and the others headed for a corner to change. "I don’t like this," whispered Kellie. "Hush now girls, now listen carefully," announced Miss Fuchsia in an elevated tone. "I want you to form yourselves into rows of eight. Eight girls to a line, yes, that’s right." The girls started organising themselves into position. Miss Fuchsia clapped her hands twice as Freya and her friends struggled into their tights and ran to join the others. Denise started whispering to Kellie as they took their places up the back. "There will be no whispering in my class," announced Miss Fuchsia sternly. "No giggling, no chattering and no latecomers will be permitted through the door. I teach Modern Expressive Dance. Not ballet, not tap, jazz, belly or tango, and I do not take cheques." The great expanse of room was silent now except for the swooshing of Miss Fuchsia’s long skirts as she walked between the rows. "Modern Expressive Dance," she repeated over and over in a mesmerising tone, scrutinising each girl’s face closely as she passed. "Every young girl is a goddess, a princess and a queen. Since the birth of human time, since Eve strode barefoot through the garden, since Pandora picked the lock, the Earth has been intended for womankind…" Lulled by the warmth of Miss Fuchsia’s words, Freya looked up and saw a shaft of orange afternoon light pierce a bank of old glass shutters set high in the wall, spilling out all across the floor to form a chequerboard of elongated rectangles. "We celebrate the radiance of Gerda, the fleet-footedness of Macha and Atalanta, the love of Niamh, Medea and Guinevere. We value the wisdom of Minerva, the power of Juno, the passions of Pasiphae and Grainne." Miss Fuchsia continued down the lines of girls, looking deeply into the eyes of every one. Some of them didn’t seem to notice her passing. Others turned their faces away as if harmed by her penetrating stare. When Miss Fuchsia approached her, Freya held her breath. Her gaze, when it came, fell across Freya’s cheeks like morning sunlight, and dazzled the girl with joy. As Miss Fuchsia passed, Freya reached her hand up to touch her cheek to find that it was tingling. "We recall the plains of Tailtu, Scathach the warrior-princess, the golden hair of Isolde, Rhiannon and her pretty birds. All have shaped the cadence and the rhythms of our movements. By Aglaia, Euphrosyne and Thalia, I will lead you all into the future, my beautiful, beautiful dancing girls." Miss Fuchsia raised her hands. "You will follow me," she said, "One behind the other in a single and evenly spaced line. Before a girl can dance, a girl must learn to walk as a goddess walks." The girls fell into place behind her and Miss Fuchsia lead them on, the line twisting like a giant serpent between the dusty shafts of light. When Miss Fuchsia began to swing her arms, the girls followed in silent unison. Despite the fact that Freya’s place was so far back in the line, she knew exactly what to do. She felt strong and powerful as she walked, and with each step her confidence grew. "By Venus, Inana, and Astarte…" Freya lost all sense of time as the steps gave way to spinning. Round and round, without feeling dizzy at all. The next thing she knew all the light had faded to shadow and Kellie was shaking her arm. "Freya, come on!" she said. "Lets get out of this freaky place." Freya blinked a couple of times and looked around her. The enormous room was nearly empty. Most of the other girls had gone. Kellie and Denise were dressed already. Miss Fuchsia was nowhere to be seen. "Get changed later," said Kellie, dragging at Freya’s sleeve. Dazed, Freya bundled her things in her arms and followed the others out of the building and down onto the street where Kellie’s mother was waiting in her car. "Did you ever meet such a freak!" exclaimed Kellie, climbing into the passenger’s seat as the others climbed into the back. "What – you didn’t like your dance class?" asked Kellie’s mother as she pulled away from the curb. "What about you other girls?" There was a moment of silence followed by a sudden burst of hysterical laughter. "Every girl is a princess," said Kellie in a high pitched, prissy voice. "Modern Expressive Dance," added Denise, mimicking her friend’s tone. "Not ballet, belly or tango…" "And don’t forget Xena the warrior-princess… Oh Mum," It was just gross. That woman’s a freak – and a witch, for sure!" The girls all burst out laughing again. All except for Freya, pressed up hard against the car’s right window, still wearing her leotard and tights. As the car pulled away she turned her head to look back longingly at the cracked marble steps of Miss Fuchsia’s dance academy. * * * The night blushed rouge, the ruby moon winked like a dragon’s eye, studying the dancers on the stage below as they spun circles in the dust. Those who dwelt in the crumbling ruins had learned to hide during the long hours of rusty twilight, when the moon was clear as jewel, red as blood. They huddled in scattered groups around their meagre fires, awaiting the safety of cloud cover. Darkness held its own dangers… "I’m coming, Baby," called out Beth, running to her youngest daughter’s bedside as the child screamed out in terror. She perched on the edge and brushed the sweat-drenched fringe from Talie’s brow. "It’s OK darling, it’s just another nightmare." She hugged her tightly and stroked her hair. "Baby, it was just a bad dream." Talie blinked repeatedly as the nightmare drained away. "Did you dream about the scary eyes again?" asked Beth. Talie nodded. "And the burning city?" Talie nodded again. A shadow fell across the bedspread as Freya stepped into the doorway. "Mum, I need some money today. My dance class costs ten dollars and Miss Fuchsia doesn’t take cheques." "Oh she doesn’t," said Beth, diverting her attention from Talie for a moment. "How very inconvenient of Miss Fuchsia." Freya shrugged. "Kellie and Denise are going." "And I suppose we’ve got to do everything that Kellie and Denise do now, don’t we? I don’t know what you see in those girls. You’re ten times smarter than they are." "Can I go dancing too please Mummy?" pleaded Talie, sitting up suddenly in bed, wide-eyed. Beth placed her hand across Talie’s forehead. "Goodness, baby, you’re covered in sweat. That was some nightmare you were having. I think you’ve got a temperature." Talie stared intently up at her big sister, studying the freckles on her oval face. Freya ignored her, waiting for her mother to make up her mind about the money. Eventually Beth pointed in the general direction of the door, which Freya knew to mean ‘go get my handbag.’ Freya retrieved it. Beth scrounged around until she found her purse. She pulled out a ten dollar note and held it up. "I thought you hated ballet?" she asked. "It’s not ballet. It’s Modern Expressive Dance," said Freya. Beth scrutinised her daughter’s face for a moment, as if trying to determine whether or not she was telling the truth. "OK," she said at last, proffering the note. "But you’ll need to get a lift home with someone because I’m-" Freya grabbed the money and bolted off down the corridor. Talie stared after her, wide-eyed. * * * Freya stood at the base of the cracked marble steps. The others would laugh at her if they knew she’d come back to this place. But Freya didn’t care. She’d lied to them. Told them that she had to go to the dentist. Miss Fuchsia was waiting for her at the top carrying the earthenware jar. She smiled and Freya felt a warmth like sunlight brush her cheeks as she reached inside her pocket for the ten dollar note. As the money dropped into the jar, Freya felt a burst of electricity travel down her spine. "Welcome girls," began Miss Fuchsia as everyone got changed. Freya noticed that there were only seven students in the class this time. Miss Fuchsia didn’t seem concerned. "Daughters of Gaia, Rhea and Demeter, Free spirits of Epona, Ishtar and Elektra, I welcome you all to this most sacred place." She indicated a wicker basket beside her, opened its lid and pulled out lengths of diaphanous, brightly coloured fabric. "Silk chiffon, girls, each one embroidered with beaten strands of platinum. Tie them about your waists like so." Miss Fuchsia demonstrated the way the scarves were to be worn and the girls copied her. Freya noticed that the hem of each scarf was decorated with a finely spun spidery text, the words far too small to read in the room’s dim light. "And now we will take our places. Melinda, you shall stand here… and Tanya over there. This position is for you, Jennifer. Freya! I want you over here on my right hand side." Freya walked across the room to take her position, elated by the revelation that Miss Fuchsia knew her name. Not that she remembered ever telling anyone her name in this class, but it didn’t matter now. "And now my girls, you will walk like the goddess walks," Miss Fuchsia commanded. The girls assumed the serpent-like formation they had practiced the week before. "Don’t just dream of her – you must become the goddess! Each of you is Isis, Danae and Clytemnestra. Walk the steps of Brynhilde, Callisto and Ariadne…" Some time later the girls found themselves back in their original positions circled around Miss Fuchsia. They began to spin, their embroidered silk chiffon scarves billowing around them like swirls of morning mist. As Freya spun she could sense her body changing. Her limbs became longer, slender and more graceful. She could feel her long brown curls cascading down her back like a waterfall. The world around her became a blur of colours, above her an endless expanse of crushed velvet darkness, sprinkled with diamond dust. Freya touched the goddess within her spinning body, learning that it is she who controls the lightning, commands the tides, seeds the Earth… Suddenly the dance was over. The girls stood still in a circle around Miss Fuchsia, blinking repeatedly. They glanced at one another, confused. "That was very good girls, but you’re not quite ready for the final sequence yet. Come back next Friday, at sunset." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "At sunset, when the moon is full. Do you understand?" The girls nodded slowly. They understood. Reluctantly they untwined the silk chiffon scarves from around their waists and returned them to the wicker basket. "And don’t forget your ten dollar notes." I won’t forget, thought Freya. * * * "But I’ve got to have ten dollars!" shrieked Freya. The babysitter took an unconscious step backwards, surprised by the intensity of the girl’s demand. "It’s not on my list, Honey – I’m really sorry but it’s not. Your Mum didn’t say anything about dance classes this evening." Freya stamped her foot. "But I have to go, I have to!" The sitter shook her head sympathetically. "Look, Sweetie, even if I gave you ten bucks myself, what I can’t give you is permission to go somewhere that your Mother hasn’t agreed to." "Ring her up!" Freya screamed. "Woah, woah, Honey, will you just hold your horses there! Now you know full well that the number she left is for emergencies only, and this doesn’t strike me as a matter of life and death." Freya glared angrily at the sitter, and then at Talie, who was sitting in her favourite spot on the kitchen bench swinging her legs back and forward in an irritating manner. Freya spun on her heels and ran off down the corridor, slamming her bedroom door behind her as loudly as possible. "Little monster," sniffed the sitter, checking her watch. Talie slid off the kitchen bench and marched down the hall to Freya’s room, turning the handle as quietly as she could and poking her head round the door. She found her sister curled up on her bed, hugging her knees, her face still crimson from screaming. "Why have you got to have ten dollars?" Talie asked. "Push off, Talie, this is my room," mumbled Freya. "But why have you got to?" she asked again, frowning. Freya picked up a little square pillow and threw it at the door, missing her sister’s head by millimetres. It just wasn’t fair. That stupid bitch sitter in the kitchen didn’t understand anything any more than her own mother did. Tonight was the big performance. Freya had to be there. They all had to be there, or else Miss Fuchsia’s circle wouldn’t be perfect. Freya didn’t know why it mattered. She just knew that it did. She heard a soft tapping at the door again. "Go away, Talie," she growled. The door opened and Talie waddled in, struggling under the weight of her big pink piggy bank. She lost her grip suddenly, and the pig tumbled to the floor, its contents spilling in all directions. Amongst the sea of silver and gold was a ten dollar note. Freya’s eyes widened. "Give me that," she said. She scrambled from the bed to the floor and snatched up the note. Talie watched her sister keenly. "I wanna come too." "Well, you can’t," snapped Freya, stuffing her dance gear into her bag. Talie looked hurt. "But it’s my ten dollars. I wanna come too!" Freya wasn’t listening. She hoisted her bedroom window open and slung her leg over the sill. Talie started to cry. "Shut up you big baby," snapped Freya, swinging her other leg over and jumping down onto the grass outside. Talie ran to the window but she was too late. Freya had left the yard already and was running down the road, the slapping sound of sandals on bitumen echoing loudly between the buildings. * * * Miss Fuchsia beamed proudly down at Freya. "I knew you’d come," she said. Freya, panting from running the two blocks from the bus stop, felt a warm flush like sunlight on her cheeks once more, and an electric tingle as she dropped Talie’s ten dollar note in the jar. It was now full to the brim. Miss Fuchsia didn’t get round to banking very often. Freya changed quickly and donned platinum-embroidered silk chiffon scarves from the wicker basket. "Tonight, my daughters, the moon is full. Tonight will be our finest performance." The girls had formed themselves into a circle around Miss Fuchsia. She left its centre to inspect each girl individually, making small adjustments to scarves, smoothing hair or patting cheeks. When satisfied that all were ready, she fetched the earthenware jar and placed it at her feet at the centre of the circle. "My daughters, it is time to become the goddess," she said, leading them all in the serpent-walk that the girls now knew by heart. With each step Freya felt herself grow stronger, more confident, more beautiful. The girls all stepped in time with their teacher, their arms rising and falling synchronously, fingers held in delicate poses. The serpent-line behaved as if it were a living creature, weaving and turning to form symbols and shapes like letters in an archaic alphabet. Just as before, Freya felt her hair flow long and luxuriantly down her back. She sensed herself grow tall and slender. Each breath she took filled her being with warmth and purpose. "By Dana, Artemis, Selene and Agaberte, we are the goddess, the chalice and the darkness. Daughters of Houlda, Hildegard and Hecate. By Tana, Bona-Oma, Persephone and Binah, take us now into the future," sang Miss Fuchsia. The serpent formed a perfect circle with the teacher at its centre, and then it swallowed its tail as the girls began to spin. "Into the future," sang Miss Fuchsia, over and over in a mantra. Freya laughed as the walls around them dissolved into dust. The roof above had faded to reveal a magnificent star field, its centre set with a blood red ruby moon. As the last of the surrounding buildings crumbled to dust, she knew that she had finally become the goddess. * * * Twilight bleeds across the land. The russet moon is full and plump, embedded in the night sky, precious in its setting, encrusted jewels of light. On the stage below, the dancers spin, a blurred corona, with a small human form at its heart. The small one is human. A girl-child with golden locks and wicked eyes the colour of scorched garnet. The girl-child laughs as the dancers, ancient women with ash-white hair, exhausted from their ceaseless torment, scream… Talie awoke suddenly, gasping for air, her sweat-soaked bedspread twisted about her legs like a giant python. She freed herself and sat up quickly, running splayed fingers through her hair. The clock by her bed showed an hour before dawn. Six years to the day that her sister Freya had vanished. She stepped into her slippers and headed for the kitchen, not at all surprised to find her mother sitting in there already, the ashtray full of cigarette buts. Beth looked up as Talie entered. She reached her had towards the ashtray. Talie shook her head. "It doesn’t matter Mum," she said softly. "I know you smoke at night." Beth endured a momentary pang of guilt, and then let it pass. "You want some tea?" she asked. Talie didn’t, but she walked over to the sink anyway and filled the kettle, glad of having a simple distracting task to perform. Beth studied her daughter’s form in the stark glow of the kitchen’s single bulb. "You know you look just like her." Talie nodded as the kettle filled. "I know Mum," she said. She made the tea and sat down at the table. "It’s today, isn’t it? Six years". Beth didn’t answer. She fumbled in the packet for another cigarette, lighting it up from the butt of the other one. "I had another one of those nightmares," said Talie, watching the exhaled plumes of smoke drifting upwards towards the ceiling. "You know, I started having those nightmares around about the time that Freya vanished." Beth stared across the cluttered table at her daughter. "Doctor Mak explained all that. Psychological trauma." Talie shook her head. "No. I think there’s a connection there somehow. That derelict building where she was supposed to be going to class… Her friends didn’t remember going there at all, yet Kellie’s Mother said she picked them all up from outside the old theatre one afternoon. Don’t you think that’s weird?" Beth looked away. "Talie, we’ve been over this a million times. Teenaged girls running away from broken homes – happens every day according to the cops. It’s a difficult age." Talie knew what her mother was thinking. Promise me that you’ll never run away… Talie studied the mess on the tabletop; glasses, keys, Beth’s purse lying open with coins spilling out. Last week’s newspaper, empty aspirin packers, coffee rings. Her gaze drifted to the window above the kitchen sink. The silhouette of the ghost gum outside shivered in the pre-dawn breeze. "Mum," whispered Talie, "my nightmares are always about the dance." Beth closed her eyes. "Dr Mak said…" As Beth reiterated what Dr Mak had said, Talie stared out the window at the first pale rays of dawn illuminating the ghost gum’s leaves. She reached for her cup, her hand brushing her mother’s purse accidentally, causing more coins to spill out onto the table. Talie looked down at the open purse and froze. There was one thing they hadn’t thought of before. One thing they hadn’t yet tried. * * * As twilight settled across the land, Talie approached the old pink theatre in Clydesville. She mounted the cracked marble staircase and walked up to the door, which was double-bolted and padlocked with a heavy chain hung thick with cobwebs. She drew from her pocket an envelope and a ten dollar note that she’d taken from her mother’s purse. The envelope was addressed to Miss Fuchsia’s Dance Academy. "I’ve come to join the class," she said out loud. She sealed the note inside the envelope and pushed it under the door. "Ten dollars cash because Miss Fuchsia doesn’t take cheques…" There was no reply. Not that she expected one. With her mobile phone in her pocket and a torch in her hand, she circled the old theatre slowly, looking for a way inside. She found one soon enough. A wooden side door, half kicked in, probably by the police who had searched the place several times in the weeks following Freya’s disappearance. They never found a trace of her or the mysterious Miss Fuchsia’s Dance Academy. She squeezed inside and shone the torch. There was nothing to see but broken chairs, fallen beams and emptiness. Shafts of fading light pierced the shadows, illuminating swirls of dust. "Freya," Talie called out. "Freya, are you there?" Nothing. Talie turned off the torch and closed her eyes, trying to bring back the images from her nightmares. The stage, the burning city and the blood red dragon’s eye moon. When she opened her eyes again, she could see the dancers spinning in the centre of the room. They were very faint, as though conjured from nothing but cobwebs and shadow, but they were there, dipping and spinning in a pinkish sort of glow. "Freya," screamed Talie, reaching out her hand. From the corner of her eye, Freya suddenly noticed a young girl standing alone at the edge of the circle. She seemed to be shouting and flailing her arms about madly, although Freya couldn’t hear what she was saying. The image startled her. For a moment she thought she was looking at herself. A reflection maybe, although it couldn’t be, because Freya was dancing and this girl was standing still. When she looked again, she realised that the girl closely resembled her little sister Talie, only Talie as she would be one day, when she was as old as Freya. The girl who looked like Talie was spoiling her concentration. Freya could still hear Miss Fuchsia singing, but her voice was getting fainter, and it was hard to pick out the words. How dare she interrupt the performance uninvited, this look-alike imposter. Freya glared at the girl as she spun, willing her to go away. But the girl wasn’t moving. She was holding her ground, and she was staring hard at Freya. Her lips were moving soundlessly. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were stained with tears. She looked so much like Talie. So much… Suddenly Freya lost control. She tripped and fell forwards, breaking the circle as she tumbled onto the dusty floor. She thought she heard a woman screaming as she fought the tide of nausea. It hurt to open her eyes so she kept them screwed tightly shut as she fought to regain equilibrium and determine which way was up. Around her the world spun wildly, out of control. "Help me!" she cried out, and somewhere from the depths of the blurry tempest, a girl’s voice called her name. "Freya!" Freya felt the bare floorboards beneath her knuckles. She fought to press her palms flat against them, and then her hands touched something warm and soft. Human hands took hold of hers. "I’ve got you," the girl’s voice whispered. "Freya – it’s me!" Freya opened her eyes to see the tear streaked face of her little sister Talie. Her little sister, all grown up into a girl of fourteen or fifteen. "What’s happening?" sobbed Freya. Talie shook her head. "I don’t know. All I know is that this place is evil." Freya threw her arms around her sister. As they embraced, Freya caught sight of her own fingernails. Long and yellowed, like talons. She pulled away from the embrace and stared at her hands in horror. "What the…" "There’s no time Freya, we have to get out of here now." Talie leapt to her feet and pulled her sister up to standing. Freya whimpered helplessly, staring at her hands. Talie grabbed her by the arm and lead her. Freya looked up to realise that she was walking through the dilapidated ruins of Miss Fuchsia’s Dance Academy. Talie steered her carefully around fallen beams of wood and gaping holes in the floorboards. The only light came from dirty glass windows set high up near the ceiling. It streamed down in dusty ribbons, illuminating a side door, which had been half kicked in. Talie squeezed through the gap, pulling Freya through after her. Outside, the sunlight dazzled Freya’s eyes. She covered them with her arm as she fell into a crouch. She could hear her sister talking. "Mum, it’s Talie – come quickly. I’ve found Freya… That old pink building in Clydesville. No time to explain, just come here and get us as fast as you can." As Freya crouched, hugging her knees, she realised with horror that her legs were caked in dried blood and excrement. "What’s happening to me?" she sobbed. "Shhh," soothed Talie. She stood guard beside her sister’s huddled form as a small, curious crowd gathered around the cracked marble facade of the crumbling pink theatre. * * * Freya sat silently on the couch wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at the wall, seemingly oblivious to the bustle of activity all around her – police, social workers, doctors, reporters. She had been photographed and bathed. Her hair had been cut to shoulder length, her nails trimmed, her skin moisturised, but nothing could take the wild look from her eyes. A social worker said that look would pass with time. Right now the best place for her was home with her mother and sister, even if she didn’t feel like talking. Freya blinked, her eyes moist with tears. It would be months before she would speak again. For now all she could do was clutch her little sister’s hand. * * * The young child limped from the moonlit stage with a withered foot. Curse that Freya girl for breaking the circle. I’ll be a cripple now until I can find a suitable replacement. She sniffed the heady, tainted air. Poisoned. Filthy. She cursed loudly. That Freya girl had done far more damage than merely causing a withered foot. She had shattered the vortex a hundred years too early. This was not the future that Miss Fuchsia had sought, this desolate, ruined place. Now she would have to begin again. Another circle of young girls dancing. Another jar of offerings for the goddess of the moon. Movement in the rubble caught her eye. People. Definitely human. Damaged. Not much to work with. She figured that her new body had a half-life of no more than thirty years. Scanning the terrain, she placed her finger on her lips. "Mummy!" she wailed. "Where are you, Mummy? I’m cold." She limped forwards in the direction of the nearest fire.
Fuchsia Spins by Moonlight was published in Redsine, issue 7, 2002. The story was included in Ellen Datlow's Recommended reading list, 2002. |