The Fountain Pen

I found myself coming dangerously close to the end of the plot I had already outlined, so I spent some time today working on finishing the outline. I didn’t actually finish it, but I have a far better idea of how the rest of the story shapes up, in less broad strokes this time. All that plotted did hurt my productivity, as I had hoped to have a 3,000 word day. Instead I managed 1700 words.

I funny thing happened while writing tonight. I found an interstitial scene I had not planned for, and Joe surprised me by unloading all his pent up emotion. When I started writing it I was surprised and quite happy. It felt natural, after all, how in the world is Joe holding it together at this point int the story? I’d be pinching myself hoping I was in a dream by now.

My inner critic is begging me to make a note that I have spent far too much time telling the reader Joe is confused. We get it. He’s confused. Quit telling us all the time. Thing is, it’s words and that’s all I need to care about now. I’ll fix it in revision.

Speaking of revisions I expect I’ll be shuffling the chapter boundaries while I revise this thing. I think I finished Chapter 3 tonight and started in on Chapter 4, but as this was not my original plan I may change that too.

Enough talk.

Mortimer strode out of the room, leaving Joe alone. “Your tea will get cold,” Katarina said softly. Her entire demeanor changed with Mortimer’s departure. Where once she was commanding and imposing she was now soft and gentile. Under normal circumstances Joe would have found this alluring and attractive, but today’s events had him rattled, and Katarina scared him silly.

“Thanks,” Joe muttered and took a sip. He’d never been a fan of tea, finding far too many snobs among tea drinkers, but the cup of tea he was drinking shocked him. It was light yet the flavor was bold, tasting nothing of flavored water. “Hey, this is quite good,” he said, despite himself.

“I’m glad you like it. I grow my own chamomile plants. It’s rewarding to create something, especially something wonderful.”

“I agree,” Joe said enthusiastically. “It’s why I do what I do. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of creating. Where once there was nothing, just a blank space, with some hard work and inspiration, voila!” Joe gestured wildly the tea sloshing in his cup. Embarrassed he apologized profusely, fear gripping his heart at what she might do to him, “I’m so sorry! Let me clean it up.” He looked around for something to use as a rag but found nothing but silks and embroidery.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens far more often than you know,” Katarina said dismissively. “Tell you what,” she said matter-of-factly, “why don’t you stay here and finish your tea, while I find something more appropriate to wear Topside.” She stood up.

Joe was confused. “Topside?”

“Yes. The Archives are not down here.”

“Why not?”

“All in due time. You finish your tea before it gets too cold. I’ll be back before you know it.” She walked through the back curtains, gracefully navigating the cushions, giving off the impression that she was floating over them, rather than walking through them.

“Huh. I don’t know there were any rooms back there,” Joe thought to himself. Joe took the time he had alone to collect himself, and to finish his tea. He found that it had a soothing effect on him, and briefly hoped it was not poisoned or drugged, but then recalled that everyone else had some, and relaxed, allowing the tea to calm him down.

At precisely the same moment Joe finished his tea Katarina reappeared. The transformation was a bit jarring; whereas moments ago Katarina was the poster child for the alluring gypsy woman who led men to their downfall with the flicker of an eyelash, there now stood a rather nondescript, though still stunningly attractive woman clad in a simple pink knit sweater and jeans. Joe could not help staring at her. “You approve?” she asked, a bit shy. “It’s been ages since I’ve been Topside, and I’m not entirely sure of the current fashions.”

“No, you look fine,” Joe said then instantly berated himself.

“Fine huh?” Katarina said, her face betraying a hint of disappointment. Joe stammered trying to recover. Katarina laughed. “Fine is exactly what we want. We don’t want to draw a lot of attention to ourselves. After all, we need to pass as just another couple walking through the streets of Salem. Think we can pull that off?”

Joe gulped. “A couple?”

Katarina nodded. “At the very least good friends. It would be perilous to rouse suspicion,” she said nonchalantly. “Are you ready?”

“Sure,” Joe stood up. “Where would you like me to put the tea cup?”

“You may leave it. It’ll be taken care of. Shall we?” she offered her arm to Joe who cautiously took it.

Joe exited Katarina’s home with her arm entwined with his. He was unsure and clearly uncomfortable, but kept telling him to treat this like any other date, hoping he could trick himself into forgetting all the extenuating circumstances; unfortunately his brain wouldn’t fall for it. As the strode through the streets, at a much more casual pace this time, Joe became painfully aware he was coming under public scrutiny. Many people would whisper as they walked past; there were open stares, cheerful greetings, nervous waves, and more than a few glares of outright hostility. No small number of people stopped Katarina in the streets asking how long she would be gone; none of them asked if she were leaving, they only asked how long she would be gone. Despite her assurance that it would only be for a few hours the people would respond with concern. “You take care, you know how dangerous it can be,” was interspersed with, “Must you go?” and “Heavens! Come back to us safely.” The women would fawn over Katarina like a mother encouraging her child to wear a sweater; the men would look Joe up and down then glare at him in the eyes and give him a speech about protecting their Katarina, always with a veiled threat should anything bad befall her. Not a person argued with Katarina, though clearly they wished she would not go, nor did they trust Joe to protect her; each one acquiesced to Katarina’s cheerful agreement that she was going Topside. It gave Joe pause to wonder, “Who is she to these people that they both dolt over her and yet respect her?”

When they got to the edge of the town, and the townsfolk had finally left them alone Joe blew out his breath. “You’d think I was taking you out on a date, or asking for your hand in marriage the way they carried on.”

Katarina turned to look at Joe. “That’s exactly what we are doing,” she stated. Joe stopped in his tracks, the color beginning to drain out of his face. Realizing what Joe was thinking Katarina laughed gaily. “The date part. Not the marriage part,” she said with a squeeze of his arm. He didn’t move.

“What date? I thought we were going to The Archives.”

Katarina sighed. “We are. But we are posing as a couple out on a date. So for all intents and purposes we might as well be going out on date.” Joe still stood rigidly. Katarina frowned, a twinge of hurt at the corner of her eyes, “It’s me isn’t it? You like girls, that is plain enough to me.”

Joe tried to catch his mental balance before blundering into something he could not undo. “It’s … well to be frank I didn’t expect this.”

“The date?”

“The date, this city underneath Salem, my being trapped here, my being here in the first place,” Joe exploded. “I woke up this morning sure that the world was a normal and sane place, and that I was a normal and sane average Joe living in it. I had a happy little life, nothing extraordinary, but perfectly normal. And now I’m deep underground, in a city that should not exist — cannot exist — with a woman who I’m told is dangerous, and who all the town reveres, and I’m supposed to be okay with just casually going out on a date with her, all so that she can fix my life and send me back home like none of this happened? How in the world am I supposed to cope with something like that?” Joe shouted, turning his back to Katarina.

Katarina nodded, a kindness and understanding in her expression, “It’s a lot to take in. I know, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. At least I hope it’s not. But the more this goes on the more I realize I’ll never be able to go back to my old life. The more I discover about this place, about the world I live in, the more I feel my mind slip away from me.”

Katarina walked up to Joe and took his hand. “You won’t go mad, I can promise you that much. I cannot promise you won’t be unchanged, you will be, but you will not go mad.”

Joe turned around and looked at her, “How can you be sure?”

“It’s what I do, it’s who I am. I can read you like a book, and you don’t go mad … not from this.”

Joe eyed her suspiciously. “Thanks. I think. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should just forget trying to leave and settle down like Amanda suggested. Quit while I’m ahead and the world isn’t too bizzare, you know?”

“You’ll get through this. We will get you through this. And when it’s over, there will be a place for you here, in Salem.”

“There would be anyway one of you could make me forget could you? You know, erase my memory?”

Katarina looked at him concerned. “Some claim to be able to do that, though I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

“It’s just a thought.” Joe stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Enough stalling. Let’s get this date started.”

Chapter Four

Joe squinted as the bright sunlight poured down into his eyes. Shielding his eyes with his hands he looked around clearly confused, surprised, and feeling his tenuous grasp on reality slipping. He was not in the Reed Opera House where he had entered. From the looks of things he was in and amongst some houses under an overpass, near the river. He spied a park a short distance away. Panic began to set in when he realized he was alone again. Katarina was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to give up an curl into a little ball a hand found his and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Sorry,” a voice whispered in his ear. “I was detained momentarily as we exited.” Joe looked down at the hand holding his then up the arm to the smiling face of Katarina. Fear and panic were evident on his face. “Oh dear. Are you okay? Did something happen?” Katarina asked in flurry of concern.

Joe shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I was in the Opera House when I entered. I expected to end up there again. Then I was alone and realized I had no idea where we are going. It’s all very disorienting.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I thought you knew about the doors. I should have warned you.”

“Mortimer told me they reset every hour, but, well you just get used to going in one door and coming out the same place you went in, that’s all.”

“Yes, well, I still should have warned you. Most of us know where the active door is. A few of us can shift them at will. Nonetheless we best be going. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us.