The Other Place
(a semi-musical Steampunk Goth hybrid story)
Blog Eleven: Focus On Becoming Immaterial
“We need to get out of this room,” Roisin Moodlive’s soprano voice sings up to him, “Countess Milde has company.” He sees her grab a cane seat chair.
He follows as she tugs him into a hall with Corinthian moldings at the base of an archway. Just beyond the archway are doors on opposite sides of the hall. Moodlive places the head of the chair under the doorknob of the room they just left.
He turns and looks down at her. “Why me?” he asks.
Others are here, she sings
Powerful entities inside
Inside corporeal bodies
Oh, Dimoso they’ve brought you here
For your magic
“I’ve never done anything magical until I came here.” He can hear the frustration in his own voice. “And everyone here seems to have the same abilities as I do.”
The magic is in your bones
Innate and meant to be
A part of Mother Earth
Not meant for humans to use, Dimoso
“Those rowers better have not lied to us,” the distant voice of the vampire with the storm grey overcoat says from the room they just departed.
“You need to escape,” Moodlive says, her voice full of urgency.
He pulls out the jar and note from his pocket, and passes the jar to her.
The note says in Lady Elsewhere’s handwriting: Don’t take off the key. He grimaces, realizing he had already made that mistake. The ointment is to make you more invisible, if necessary.
“Can you feel him?” he hears the vampire in the sea green overcoat asks in a desperate tone.
“No, and even invisible he’s so big it would be impossible to miss him,” replies the vampire in the grey storm overcoat. “Let’s move on.”
He can hear the door rattling and the cane chair rocking as the vampires try to open the door.
“We need to cover you in this ointment, clothes and all,” Moodlive tells him in a hushed tone as she starts rubbing ointment onto his shoes. She scoops out a glob and says, “Here,” and passes him the jar. “Cover your hat and googles. I’ll start on the back of your trench coat.
“What then?” he asks, as the banging on the door gets more violent.
“Done,” Moodlive says. “They’re not powerful. They won’t be able to sense you now that you’re completely invisible. Lean against a wall until they finish searching the room.”
“What will you do?”
“Listen Ladies Oolong and Steamship,” he hears her sing as she brushes the strings of her lyre.
Countess Milde has called a meeting
A meeting with the hierarchy
We head to the dungeon
Where Dimoso will find what he came for
But help is needed
If we’re to succeed
At the end of the song, he sees her hands reach up to his chest. She turns into yellow mist and flows into him; lyre and all. Inside his head, he hears her voice tell him, “Focus on becoming immaterial.”
Maggie Boone https://www.instagram.com/missmaggiemoon/?hl=en
This is a clip of her singing Delaware Street
Currently she’s doing a kickstart for her debut EP: Delaware Street
https://l.instagram.com/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.kickstarter.com%2Fprojects%2Fmaggieboone%2Fdelaware-street-maggies-debut-ep&e=AT3A_65sJZESI3jhJQG1vRPk77jGJxWDNfwPZSE_nt7-1jFmKBjmTvthiNGIzQeDi0PFfYwEhahba3DOue-ZFowmVS5XEwuqES1U0gTags: Science Fiction, Steampunk, Story Telling, Writing