The Tomorrow Legion

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt


Matty, y’know that song by that old guy who sucks at country music — the song that Nine Inch Nails made popular and famous? “Hurt” — that’s the one. I think the lead singer Trent “Logan” Reznor went off to do his own solo thing. But didn’t he die a few years ago of…like, a broken heart or something? That’s what happens when you get locked up in Hell — in your own infernal prison. Anyway, that’s how I’m feeling these days. This body is a nightmare, a prison, and the fiend inside wants to get out! It wants to strut around and stick out its chest and wear the skin of TRUTH — wear it proudly! It wants to walk around and talk to boys and buy some shoes! It wants to end the Masquerade!

I haven’t written in almost a month.

It’s been a really tough month. Turns out the broken hand wasn’t too severe for Fraulein Fredericca. She’d have given me the middle finger if she could — right from her hospital bed. But I’m getting ahead of myself. She was taken to the hospital and treated for a broken hand. First, second, and third metacarpals, second, third, and fourth – distal, middle, and proximal phalanges, and…well, I really did a number on her. I didn’t know there were so many bones in the hand and more of hers were broken than not. More than that, I had really injured her pride. In front of a hundred holiday shoppers a woman lost control of her rebellious teenaged daughter and was rewarded with an outburst that might make second page news in Bumblefucksville. It’s funny how the Newspapers glossed over the puddle of my own blood that stained the cosmetics department floor and the crazy demonic mask and the Gandalf-robe that appeared out of nowhere. Some news just isn’t fit to print.


After Gerhardt beat me near to death he made me write an apology card (my hand was still working enough to write) and deliver it personally to the hospital room the next day. Defiantly, I told him I’d send her a Magical Messenger Bird. He broke a chair over my face in response. It’s amazing how quickly my body was able to heal from that beating; and it’s a shame that my heart never will. I think I will just end it all. There’s no reason to go on. Oh! The agony!

She was kept overnight for observation but the doctors couldn’t re-set her hand without pins and metal and a cast. She declined to have any further treatment, returned to the house, and that’s where Gerhardt forced me to practice my EMT paramedic first-aid in conjunction with casting my heal-wounds on her. Some penance, eh? He said this would be a learning experience. He didn’t know what kind of transformation I had done and he hadn’t experienced it for himself. He kept grilling me and grilling Fredericca and consulting his tomes and books and calling “old friends” and other arcane contacts. I was getting really nervous! I mean, I was already horrified at what was inside me but if even Gerhardt had no idea then maybe no one could help me. Maybe I was some kind of freak…some kind of monster! After a month it hasn’t gotten any easier but if I never transform again maybe it won’t be true. Maybe it’ll stay hidden and stay inside of me for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll be okay with that. Maybe.


Matty, he full-on closed-fist punched me in the face. The man who claims to be my father. Then he held me down and screamed at me. I’ll never forget his words or the look on his face. “With great power comes great responsibility!” The look on HIS face as his fist slammed into MINE was one of sadness…or was it regret…he railed at me, "I am stronger than you! Have I ever had to hit you to prove it? I could kill you in the blink of an eye! You are my child. You are stronger than you can imagine. If you do not learn restraint you are no better than the villains that plague our world. I have taught you since you were old enough to learn! I have trusted you with knowledge and with power! I have treated you like my own flesh and blood and this is how you repay me? With a public outburst, violence, metamorphosis, indiscretion! This was a heinous attention-grabbing stunt! You have brought shame on yourself, on me, and on your family! We are all that you have in this world! The family must stand strong together! I was locked in my room, door warded, window barred and warded, and left to ponder the complexities of the situation. It was the worst beating I had ever even heard of — let alone experienced. Roman and Jesper heard my endless wailing and left the house. Roman sent me a “sorry pigeon” — I guess he couldn’t figure out how to slip a note past the wards. Conrad brooded silently, shunned me, and
pretended I didn’t exist. Like father like son.

After three weeks things kind of calmed down. About a week ago Gerhardt confronted me with Fredericca and Conrad. Jesper and Roman were conspicuously absent. I should have known. Those two never did have a stomach for…well, anything that didn’t involve their stomachs.

The old man told me, “Lashe’evadne Sycorax-Circe Griselda Duchesne. I love you with all my heart. You were the daughter I always wanted but could never have. I am sorry for my failings as your father. I am sorry for my failings as your teacher. And I am sorry for what I am about to do. You have one month to collect your possessions, settle your affairs, and leave this house. You are no longer welcome here. I have made preparations for your Early Admittance into the University and it has been Accepted by the Dean of Student Affairs. I have pre-paid for your first year of school. You have my blessing and my well-wishes. You have all the tools you need to begin your journey — out into the world, on your own, and forging ahead through your experiences. You are prepared for this. It is time. I cannot explain your alien-nature and I cannot fathom the demonic metamorphosis and appearance that you have manifested. I know you are still my daughter deep down inside. Perhaps, some day, you will once again be welcome here. For now you must leave. What you do is yours to choose. Your first year of University is paid for and you’ll have room and board.”

And my response, “Uhhh…what?”

Fredericca, ever the embodiment of delicacy, hissed, “pack your things bitch!”

And my response, “Uhhh…what?”

Conrad chided, “Hazel, don’t make this any harder than it has to be…than it already is.”

And my response, “Uhhh…are you fucking kidding me?”

Gerhardt said, “No, Lashe, I am not. You have a month to prepare your things, pack, say goodbye to your friends, quit your job, and leave for school. I’m sorry it had to come to this. You are an intelligent young woman with a bright future. I want to believe that. Right now, you have no place in his house…in this family. You…no. I wish…no. May our paths cross one day when we are all in a better place and working toward a brighter future.”

And my response, “Uhhh…you don’t really believe that garbage do you? Finally gone and drank the Kool-Aid, eh? Good. Go fuck yourselves. Take this, all of you, and drink from it. This is the piss and shit and sugar of BETRAYAL. Our paths may cross again one day. And when that day comes you’d better fucking hope I hate you less than I do right now.”

If I’m a witch. I might as well embrace it.


Matty, don’t take this the wrong way. I need a break. From you, from writing, from everything. I used my savings to buy a cheap, used, shitty old dirt-bike — but it works. I’m driving myself to school with my every earthly possession on my back and strapped to the bike. I leave tomorrow. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…creeps in this petty pace from day to day.

Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company
Life must go on


I hate Christmas.

I can never show my face again in public. My face. My…fac…ade.

I know it’s been a while since I wrote but, well, I’ve been busy. I’m working longer hours at the book store and I’ve been getting really…anxious. Antsy. I dunno, Matty. It’s like sometimes I can’t sit still and my mind is going a mile a minute and these thoughts are racing and my blood feels like it’s boiling. My mom thinks I’m having panic attacks. My dad thinks anxiety is just part of being a woman. I think bleeding every month is part of being a woman and…DAMN IT!!!

Matilda H. Breckenridge Bauerstein,

I, Lashe’evadne Sycorax-Circe Griselda Duchesne, have become a monster. I….I don’t know. I can’t explain.

I just…I can’t even describe…







Awwwwww….ugh. That is so gross.


Definitely not panic attacks. Anxiety maybe…
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. What did I do? I don’t deserve this. I wish I could just give it back. God, if he even exists, has cursed me with some sick…twisted spin on a Hairy Spotter young-adult horror novel. Can you imagine the look on my face when it happened? No? NEITHER COULD I BECAUSE I HAD A FUCKING MASK ON!!! I couldn’t rip it off it was like a part of me!!! This demonic crazy darkness-permeating devil-mask. I kept trying to claw at my face and it’s like…this mask…this, evil THING on my face was suffocating me like claustrophobic. And I had this robe on and it was sweltering and sweaty and I felt so confined! I thought I was dying. But I’m writing this, aren’t I? I definitely wasn’t dying…

Matty, the most terrifying part of the whole thing…


When I finally got a hold of myself and took a deep breath and found a mirror that hadn’t shattered…actually, the dressing room emptied pretty fast. When I finally saw myself…my heart practically exploded. With joy. It was as if I was seeing myself for the first time. Like I had been living behind a mask my entire life and this was me…the real me…the one who is underneath and who is through-and-through every fiber of my being and every molecule of my existence. Matty, I liked what I saw…I loved it. I was bursting with joy on the inside…while there were screams of panic and chaos and children at Macy’s in the “Young Miss” department. That’s when reality knocked on the front door…slammed the knocker and barged in.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

Fraulein Fredericca — the woman whose body I DIDN’T come out of yet she pretends to be my mother — you remember her, don’t you? I thought so. Well she thought it’d just be SWELL if we had a mother / daughter bonding experience buying Christmas presents at the mall for all the testosterone in the family. Whatever! I had to go shopping anyway and I STILL don’t have my own car so I guess going with her is better than paying for a taxi. I don’t even know why I bother getting presents for anyone anyway. It’s not like they ever really think about what I want. I’ve never gotten anything good. A bunch of stupid socks and underwear for someone’s grandma and maybe a book that was on the Best Seller list about vampires and romance and the rigors of being an angsty little teenage heartthrob in public fucking high school! I’m not bitter.

So the fraulein and I were wending our way through the throngs at the mall and we stopped at Cacique to look at some earrings and tchotchke chintzy jewelry and I saw this necklace that looked really cute, y’know? Fredericca didn’t agree but then our taste has never seen eye-to-eye. There were tons of girls and their moms milling about like ants on an anthill and I was getting a little antsy. I recognized a few girls from the book store doing some shopping together and another girl I had seen at one of Roman’s football games. They were public school ditzes and they were older than me. They had boobs and hips and periods and here I was looking like a stupid little home-school girl with her mom trying on cheap jewelery. Gah! I was embarrassed. I did my best to ignore them but I know they saw me. I was tempted to try fitting a sticky rug inside the girl’s mouth but I don’t have that kind of control yet. Twenty by twenty by ten is, um, too big to cast in public.

I’ve never been a huge fan of crowds and Fredericca could see that I was uncomfortable but she took her time really browsing the costume jewelry. I know she was doing it on purpose. My stomach was getting upset and growling at me but all I had for breakfast was Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I needed to get out of there. Something was going on and I was getting more and more uncomfortable and uneasy by the minute. My stomach started to cramp like…like I dunno…gas or something. Maybe I had to fart. I told Fredericca that I was going to step outside for a minute and get some fresh air and that I would meet her at Macy’s a few stores down this side of the mall. She tsked and nodded at me. Hah! And I’m the one with the attitude?


The fresh air was welcome — crisp, cold, brisk, and settling. It had just begun to snow — a light dusting — but I was thrilled to be out of that sardine can. My stomach calmed down a little bit. Maybe I was having anxiety or something. I walked around the outside of the building to the Macy’s entrance and decided to try on some clothes while waiting for my ride…er, my mom.

The store was decorated so pretty and festive! They even had mistletoe right above the entrance. Maybe it was a gag. Maybe it was a trap! Maybe…It’s a TARP!!!! I walked under it sheepishly. There weren’t any guys like staking out the Macy’s entrance and tryin’ to mooch free smooches. Besides, that’s kinda weird and stalker-ish. I did see some high school guys — they looked like Conrad’s buddies — probably seniors and they were loud and joking about…I dunno, nonsense. Sometimes I just wish I could punch them in the face. But they can be kinda cute…in that annoying jock with big muscles and small brains kinda way. Isn’t that cute Matty?


Sorry, I know I can be a bit verbose. But this is serious bidnass! This is an event that has altered my life! Irreparably. Anyway, I was kind of wandering aimlessly through the first floor. Men’s wear, bleh! Teens. Bleh! Cosmetics? Hmm…now I browse a little bit in front of Clinique or Estee Lauder. I was checking out some lip glosses and puckering up for the super blemish-enhancing mirror when I felt butterflies in my stomach. Ugh. What was going on with me? Maybe I was starting to have gas again? Maybe cramps? I looked around like…I dunno…like someone’s eyes were on me. It was such a weird feeling. I remember thinking, “am I being punked or something?” That’s when it happened! I turned back to the mirror to continue admiring my lip gloss application and saw a dark figure in the mirror. The mirror surface moved and swirled like liquid glass or mercury or something. It was kind of trippy but I was held…my gaze was transfixed by this figure in the mirror. I felt almost like I was looking into another world and I could see…I don’t know. I wasn’t afraid…but I could feel my heart racing. It was almost…excitement! I looked around the cosmetics counter guilty, self-conscious, but no one was paying any attention to a homely little girl playing with lip gloss. Amid the crowd it was easy to ignore a bad sale. It’s Christmas! After surveying my immediate surroundings I chanced a glance back into the mirror. This time, the dark figure motioned for me to look closer…as though such a thing were possible in a mirror. Was he calling to me? Beckoning me into the mirror? I squinted my eyes and looked closer into the image and the figure…I shit you not…held up a mirror…within the mirror. I saw a reflection there that chilled me to the bone and sent shivers down my spine. I saw an image there…


in the mirror, my reflection was NOT my reflection. It reflected a woman with startling curves. She was beautiful, and voluptuous, but guarded…shrouded and hidden beneath a brilliant robe. It was regal and glossy and hemmed with strange symbols and golden stitching and a long hood. I can’t even find the words to describe it. The garment was beautiful…it was breathtaking…and the woman who wore it was strangely feline…but alluring and attractive and…secretive. My eyes combed and raked every inch of this image in the mirror (in the mirror) until I saw the face. It was evil and dark and shadowy…like demonic looking or something wicked. It had snarls and tangles and tendrils and cast a horrific visage in a frightful glow. There were mystic symbols that I couldn’t fathom swirling about and designs or tattoos could be seen glowing on the woman’s skin where the robe fell short. As she strode confidently I could see the swishing gown reveal a long shapely, athletic leg, tanned and tattooed with cryptic symbols. Her arms and chest, where slightly exposed from the movement beneath the robe displayed arcane runes in swirling hues that dazzled and danced before my eyes. Who was she? She looked beautiful and sexy and…alien. I wanted to look like her. I wanted to be her! I felt myself gazing into the mirror longingly. Wishing I could be there…anywhere but here. I remember thinking, “Maybe I should go check out the Macy’s Intimate Apparel section.” LOL!

(Tap tap tap) Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, I turned with a yelp! Ack!!! I was so enthralled…so engrossed that I didn’t even know where I was. Had I lost track of time as well? My mom was standing there, looking horrified (what’s new?), and staring at me with her eyeballs threatening to jump out of her head. Her mouth was agape but no sound was coming out. I was still reeling from my shock. Come to think of it…no sound was coming out of anyone’s mouths. I slowly, hesitantly scanned the cosmetics counters. Everyone was just standing still, looking at me, staring. It was dead silent. I started to feel very self-conscious. What had I done? Had people seen the image in the mirror? Was this just a bad ending to an acid trip? What the fuck was going on?!?!


(Deep breath)

Matty, when I followed Fredericca’s gaze…down…down…my eyes slowly widened and absorbed what I was seeing. Deep crimson. Rivulets, streaming steadily down my leg from under my skirt. It dribbled and dropped and pooled a splatter on the cosmetics floor by my foot. The puddle had slowly spread outward until it enveloped both of my sneakers. The red stream flowed like rain down a gutter and it slowly seeped into my brain. I was going to die. I truly was mortified. It looked like my water had broke…in blood. I closed my eyes against the welling tide of tears. They could be held back. Like a raging river rapid behind a dam, it burst, and with the torrent of emotion I let loose a scream that would make any horror queen proud.


The shrill screech of ear-piercing emotion could have shattered the entire cosmetics department. My mom reached out, her face snarled up in anger, and clamped onto my arm.

“Get into the bathroom and clean yourself up you dirty little tramp!” She started to drag me, bodily, while I was screaming and crying. But she only made it about five feet. The puddle of blood was now marred and smeared across the department floor and caked on my shoes. Her nails bit deeply into my skin and drew more blood. And I lost it. At once, and without warning, the scream of a horrified little girl turned into the roar of a huntress, a fierce woman. My voice changed and I could feel my body begin to change as well. I literally felt like I was tearing open a the cocoon of a terrified young woman to emerge as a goddess — the ugly duckling becoming the swan — the black, dark, terrible swan. In a hail of blood and body shrapnel I exploded outwards in the very same image I had seen in the mirror…in that other land…that dark, night land. And I tore Fredericca’s grip from me, breaking her fingernails against my skin and her fingers against my curled fist. I crushed that puny little hand like it was a fuckin’ dorito! It crumpled and I, now standing almost a foot taller, backhanded my mom across the face and she flew — like, Matty, not exaggerating, fucking flew…with her feet in the air and everything…flew the fuck into the cosmetics counter! My adrenaline was coursing! My blood was pumping…right out of me! Gone were all my clothes and that silly facade of a tired, scared, stupid little girl. I had finally opened myself to the possibility of something greater. I was horrified by what I had done to my mom but I felt empowered. It was all over in less than 15 seconds but it was long enough for the Mall Security to be called, the Police, and a hundred people in the store to run amok with panic and fright and abject pandemonium.


What have I become?

No time to consider that one. I ran…I literally ran all the way home. Faster, and never getting tired…I just ran like a machine. I found out later that Fredericca was taken to the hospital. She would live and her hand would mend…but it would NEVER be the same. That bitch would have to learn to be a lefty if she ever wanted to cook or write or sew…ever again.

Can I forgive myself?


Why yes. Yes I can.

When You Wish Upon a Star
It makes no difference which super-heroine you are







(Aloud) “Is it 3 o’clock already?”


(Aloud) “The meteors are supposed to be visible between 3 and 5 this morning in our quadrant, um hemisphere. C’mon Matty, time to wake up sleepy head.”



(ShuffleshuffleshuffleBUMP…) “OwFFFFFFFFFuuuu!!!!!!!”

(Hiss) “Shhhh!”

(Aloud) “Where’s my jeans?”


(Aloud) “Where’s my shoes?”


(Aloud) "I swear clothing is such a hassle! Bras and panties — sorry, (in a mocking authoritative tone) “undergarments” — and all this other crap. Why? Because ten-thousand years ago when everyone was naked ALL the time we decided that covering up what we look like makes us ‘civilized?’"

(Whine) "Where’s my favorite shirt?

(Aloud) "Ughhh! Besides, we all have the same stuff. Boys have the boy parts. Girls have the girl parts. How long ago in my evolution…wait, Gerhardt would say (in a mocking authoritative tone) this is Anthropology — so how long ago did it become a requirement for girls to wear dresses and skirts and makeup and completely disguise everything about our outward appearance? I dunno. It’s like…I wanna look pretty. I want people to look at me and say, “Wow! Look at that girl!” but, if they’re saying that when I don’t even look like…well, me, does it even matter? Besides, if they’re boys and they’re saying, “Wow! Look at that girl” that means, “Wow! I would do her!” and if they’re girls saying that it means, “Wow! She’s a slut!” It’s like this whole thing doesn’t make any sense. This shit — all this superficial surface skin-deep stuff — it’s just a mask. It’s just skin and bones and flesh. The person I am is inside of this…I dunno. What’s the word? Facade? Yeah, it’s just a facade. Why should I have to disguise what I really look like. ‘Cuz that’s not me. You feelin’ me Matty?


(Aloud) “Who am I kidding? This shit is too deep for 3am.”

(Sniff) “Why won’t my brain just…shut off?”


(Groan) "Why are we up at 3am just to watch a stupid meteor shower on a day that’s “mystically significant” in relation to the tides, the moon, the constellations, and the position of the earth and sun?"

(Aloud) “C’mon Hazey, get up. Remember what Brent Goren said in his book about these days? The solstices and eclipses and Samhain, wait, why is that pronounced ‘Sowen?’ Couldn’t the Celts spell?”

(Whine) “Where’s my favorite shirt!?!? Did I ever tell you that ‘see invisible’ doesn’t help with getting dressed in the dark? Makes no fucking sense. I wish I had Nightvision.”


(Aloud) “Okay, in you go. I’ll take you out when we’re at the spot.”


(Knuckle crack)

(Aloud) “Alright, now let’s see what we’re dealin’ with.”

(Finger-waggling, muffled sounds)

(Aloud) “Okay, magic detector is picking up something faint over here by my door and over here by my window. Trap detector found a little something too. Gerhardt you sly deevil you.”

(Finger-waggling, muffled sounds)

(Aloud) “Hmm, Decipher makes it look like Magic Tripwire. I’ll take your mystical alert spell and raise you…ah, talisman of negate magic. Betcha didn’t know I had one of these, eh? I may not have a purse full of tampons and a backup briefcase of diapers but I’m prepared for your magical bullshit. Put my damn allowance to good use.”

(Hiss) “Don’t ask me where I got it! Besides, it’s MY money. I have a job.”


(Aloud) "Okay, Chameleon Camouflage a.k.a.: Blend-In, here we go. And Shadow-Camo a.k.a.: Shadow-flage.
(Finger-waggling, muffled sounds)

(Aloud) “Alright, now we’ll top it off with ‘disappear’ and…wait. I almost forgot. There’s something I have to do before we leave. Matty, sit tight.”

(Click-click. Creeeak.)



(Click. Creak)

(Whisper) “Unlocked. Some people never learn. Roman, you naughty boy. Revenge is a dish best-served by a little sister who can cast Wind-Fingers and Phone Stalker Breathing. Sweet dreams, perv!”

(Finger-waggling, muffled muttering)

(Whisper) “Odd, he hasn’t gone blind yet.”


(Aloud) “Done. Now to Seal this sucker up. Crack the window. Levitate down to 10-speed locomotion and 2-leg horsepower. Oh wait, I should re-cast ‘disappear’ when I’m on the bike, right? Good call Matty.”

(Pat pat pat)

(Backpack remains silent)

(Aloud) “Actually, I’m feeling kind of…spent. Maybe I should save some of my reserves for the breaking and entering segment of tonight’s adventure. Breaking and leaving took considerably more than I expected.”

(iPood earbuds, finger swipe, shuffle) “Let’s do it…”

(Pedal pedal pedal)

(A while later…)



(Aloud) “Wow! We’re here. I hope you don’t mind if I just lay here in the grass. Best seat in the house!”

Dear Matilda,

You’re sitting here, in my lap, and I wish you could see the sky. It’s so beautiful. And there’s no light pollution this far away. I read online that this was one of the best spots in all of Bumblefu…er, Diego Verde. Hey, we’re only thirty minutes outside of Ulster so we’re civilized enough for indoor plumbing. Anyway, they call it a “promontory” but it’s got a great vantage for some awesome comet-sightings in the meteor shower.

I…I dunno. Don’t take this the wrong way but…I wish I had someone, y’know — real — to share this with. Not that you’re not awesome. I mean, you’re like basically my only friend. That’ll probably change when I get to college next year. I’ll be living at the dorms and I’m sure I’ll have a bunch of new friends and people to meet and y’know hang out with and stuff. I’ll still be your friend though but we may not be spending as much time together as we do now.

So I broke out of the prison. It wasn’t easy but I’ve got enough tricks up my sleeve and tools in my arsenal to give any parent a run for his money. The trick is making Gerhardt think I’m not as knowledgeable as I really am. These days, Jesper and Roman are so far behind Conrad that their training seems to dominate the old man’s attention. He just gives me the assignments and leaves me to my own devices for…wait, what does he call it? (air quotes) Independent study? Good thinking DAD. Leave an intelligent, curious, young woman alone with a spell book and plenty of psychic energy. Oh, and keep her quarantined in her room with nothing but free time.

Why do Roman and Jesper even bother? Some people just aren’t cut out to follow in the family footsteps. They come home from college 3 nights a week to study spells and incantations and verses and rituals and reagents; and they retain uhhh…almost nothing. What? Community college not good enough an education? They are too interested in parties and girls and video games and sports to excel at well, anything except those things. Besides, didn’t I overhear that Jesper caught an STD or something? I think it’s some kind of seafood bacteria like shrimp or lobster-something — I dunno what they call it but you have to use all this weird soap and this powder stuff. Gawd! Fredericca powdered the whole fucking house trying to get those things out of the carpet and the couch and. Ick! Forget I said anything.

My brothers never pay me much attention; even now that I’m easily surpassing them in magical aptitude (as Gerhardt hates to admit). Not like Conrad. He’s the only one who’ll follow in his father’s foo COMET!!!! I just saw a COMET!!!! Holy shit that was amazing! It was so bright and vibrant and streaking across the sky!

So I spent the afternoon organizing the occult section at the book shop. I like to read the names of the books and Goggle reviews on them and see what people are saying on the forums or in chat rooms — y’know. Saw some weird characters browsing. That’s always a great place to people watch. I wonder what they’re looking for or what kind of weird spells they’re casting. Or what kinds of crazy love potions they’re making. These days of mystical significance always bring out some real crazies. This one woman was looking for a book with a “Love” spell. I helped her with a straight face but I’m like, “uh, lady, it’s gonna take a lot more than a spell for someone to fall in love with your ugly mug!” LOL! Besides, the first rule of the occult is SECRECY! If sharing spells weren’t dangerous then they’d be in books, sure. They’d probably even be in the newspaper! But it’s DANGEROUS! And with great power comes great responsibility. Gerhardt said that…but I think Winston Churchill said it before him. Wait, let’s ask Goggle: Stan Lee, who the hell is that? Franklin Delano Roosevelt, um ok. Winston Churchill, whatever. Francois-Marie Arouet a.k.a. Voltaire. Ahh! There it is! Leave it to the Franchmen to rail against the oppression and injustice and abuse of power and authority of the government and the aristocracy. There’s some wisdom in there I know COMET!!!!! OH MY GOD ANOTHER COMET!!!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!!

I wanna take some pictures but the comets are kinda sporadic. I don’t wanna sit here holding my camera the whole time and end up missing them anyway because I’m like staring starry-eyed into space and day-dreaming.
So what do you think I should study in college? I’m supposed to be thinking about classes, picking a major, and prepping for my freshman year. Gerhardt says I’ve passed all my Math Pre-Reqs and I crushed my ACTs and SAT’s and SAT II’s so I can basically start wherever I want and pick classes I’m really interested in. How about…hmmm, let’s see: More math. That’s always good and helpful. Astronomy? Sure! I love the skies and the stars and being up way later than I’m allowed to be. Maybe I should study some arcane disciplines. Can I Major in Magic? How about computers? I’m good at computers and programming could be a good choice, what’s the word? Lucrative (in the voice of Gerhardt) for the future. Maybe I’ll take a few writing courses — a Minor. And I’ve gotta do some physical activity. Maybe running or swimming or boxing or something. I dunno…but the Freshman #15 is kinda scary. Maybe I should just do all thrCOMET!!!! OH MY GOD!!!! THE COMETS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!
(Car door thud // thud)

Uh, Matty, what was that?

(Gravel. Snap! Crunch. Crunchcrunchcrunch)

(Aloud) Shit.


(Finger-waggling and murmuring) Time to vanish.

(Nasally voice) “Gawd! I can’t believe you dragged me out here in, like, the middle of the night for some stupid stars or something? You’re, like, totally selfish.”

(Hesitant voice) “Uh, sorry Cindy. I thought it would be fun to stay out late and star-gaze. Isn’t it you know, a little romantic?”


(Inner monologue) Actually, it IS kinda cute…and a little pathetic since someone doesn’t really care.

(Nasally voice) “You can be such a pleeb sometimes, Chucky.”

(Plaintive voice) “Hey, I asked you not to call me that. You know my parents call me that and I hate it.”

(Inner monologue) Wait. That voice sounds familiar. I’ve got to sneak a little closer so I can get a better look.

(Nasally voice) “So, like, what are we supposed to be doing? Just waiting for stars to fly by or something?”

(Inner monologue) O.M.G. I wanna punch this twit right between the eyes.

(Hesitant voice) “Uh, well we can hang out, relax, and watch the STARS stay still while we wait for the COMETS to fly by.”

(Nasally voice) “Whatever. I’m bored. Can we go now?”

(Plaintive voice) “But we just got here!”

(Inner monologue) Beat it! Scram! Skeedaddle! Shoo! You’re ruining MY night too!

(Nasally voice) “I don’t care. Look, if you take me home right now I’ll let you get to second base.”

(Excited voice and Hazel in unison) “Really?” // “Eeew!”

(Hesitant voice) "Did you hear that?

(Inner monologue) Shit. Good goin’ Hazel. You’d better start prowling away from here.

(Nasally voice) “Hear what? All I hear is you breathing, like, super-loud. You sound like a vacuum.”

(Thud. Snap! Crunchcrunchcrunch)

(Hesitant voice) “C’mon Cindy, I think someone is out here.”

(Nasally voice) “Uh, now you’re kinda scaring me Chucky. Look, second-base is gone. I just wanna go home…right. now.”

(Hesitant voice) “Come on let’s go check it out.”

(Finger-waggling and murmuring)

(Inner monologue) Is he casting a spell? Oh shit. This is NOT good.

(Magic Lore)

(Inner monologue) Oh shit. Shitshitshit! He’s casting ‘see the unseen’! I’m a goner.


(Car door slam // thud)

(Car engine starts)

(Hesitant voice) “Cindy? Cindy! Hey, what are you doing?!?!”

(Car window rolls down) “Chucky, you treated me so badly tonight you can find your own ride home.”

(Plaintive voice) “Cindy! You can’t be serious. You’re just gonna leave me here?”

(Nasally voice) “You really hurt me tonight Chucky. You’d rather sit around outside in the darkness than get to second base.”

(Inner monologue) With her? That’s a no-brainer!

(Apologetic voice) “Cindy! I’m sorry. You know it’s not like that! Wait a sec and let me explain!”

(Car engine rev) “Whatever. Have fun with your stupid little stars.”

(Apologetic voice) “Cindy! Come back! Please, don’t leave me here!”

(Car peels out and drives away)

(Desperate voice) “Wait! Cindy! Come back!”

(Nasally voice fading in the distance) “Second base!!!!!”

(Sad voice // Hazel in unison) “Cindy! Com…MET!!!” // “COMET!!!”

(Sad voice…perked up) “Hey, wait a minute! I knew someone was out here. Show yourself! If you don’t come out I’ll find you eventually!”


(Finger-waggling and mumbling)

(Globe of Bright Light)

(Inner monologue) Oh boy. Is that a sphere of sunlight? This guy has a lot to learn about magic. There goes your Nightvision. Oh, and way to paint a big ol’ target on your forehead.

(Inquisitive voice) “Hello? I know you’re out there.”


(Sullen voice) “I’m here to watch the comets too. I know you’re shy. Or scared. I won’t hurt you.”

(Hazel from behind) “Scared? You couldn’t spot me with a see the unseen spell. I’m not afraid of you. Besides, shouldn’t you be off chasing your girlfriend? Or were you gonna try to steal second base?”

(Startled voice) “Hey! Where did you go?”

(Hazel from behind) “I’m right here.” (Tap on the shoulder) “You should know that a sphere of sunlight will disperse shadows but it also creates MORE shadows so if I were shadow-blended I might not be able to get close enough to you to tap you on the shoulder but you might have given me an escape route that wasn’t there before.”

(Surprised voice) “Ah! What? Oh, I see what you mean. But I cast See the Invisible. I should be able to see you now, right?”

(Hazel, stepping out of the shadows) “Yes, if I hadn’t blended in with the shadows. But I used multiple layers of protection. Just. In. Case. See me now that I’m in the circle of your sphere of sunlight? That’s because of your See the Unseen spell. When I blend in with shadows you can’t see me even with the See the Unseen spell.”

(Inquisitive voice) “Wow…you’re really smart. I’m Charlie.”

(Hazel, now fully visible) “Thanks. I’m Hazel.”

(Charlie, thoughtfully) “Hazel, hazel, hmm…do I know you from somewhere? I could swear I’ve seen you before.”

(Hazel) “Maybe at the book store in town. I work there part-time when I’m not in school.”

(Charlie) “Oh yeah? Ohhh! I remember you now! What college do you go to?”

(Hazel, hesitantly) “Uhh…well right now I’m staying local and living at home to save money.”

(Charlie) "Oh, that’s kewCOMET!!!! // (Hazel in unison) COMET!!!!

(Hazel) “If you wanna stick around and star-gaze I’ll give you a ride home on my bike later.”

(Charlie) “You would? Aww, that’s really nice of you! Thank you!”

(Hazel) “Don’t mention it. I kinda feel badly seeing as how you just got dumped and all.”

(Charlie) “Ouch. Hazel, was it? You’ve got a sharp tongue. I like that.”

(Hazel rolls her eyes) “Yeah, I see that and you can stow it. Second base drove away. I’m just here for the stationary stars and shooting comets.”

(Charlie grinned) “That’s a really kewl shirt.”

(Hazel smiled sheepishly) “Thanks. It’s my favorite.”

When will it come 2
Hello Matty? It's me Hazel...

Matty, I’m like…super stressed. Y’know I always thought it was weird that I’m sixteen years old and I haven’t gotten my period yet. The Anatomy and Physiology textbook Gerhardt uses for class says that girls can start their menstruation cycle anywhere between 12 and 16. Well I’m sixteen! I must be late! I found a bunch of interesting stuff on Goggle but I don’t know what’s true and what’s bullshit. I tried to ask Fredericca and she just brushed me off saying it would happen when I was ready. Well what if I’m never ready!?!? I’m stuck here in this house like some captured animal. This house is a fucking prison! It’s not fair that Jesper got a car! He’s only two years older than me and he got a car when HE was sixteen! I mean, they let me get a job and thank god for that, but I have to take the bus unless I want Gerhardt to drive me! There’s no way I’m gonna show up at the book store getting out of my “daddy’s car” ugh like I’m some little fourteen year-old shit.

Ooh! Look at this website I found:

It says,

“Your first period is so special it has its own name, it’s called Menarche (rhymes with anarchy) and it’s the beginning of your menstrual cycle that will be with you for a lot of your life. Waiting for your first period can be a stressful time for some girls – it helps to be prepared with all the relevant facts. It’s also useful to practice with the different period products, like tampons or pads that are available.”

What. The. Fuck.

PRACTICE?!?!? JESUS!!!!! How am I supposed to get stuff to practice with?!?! O.M.G. I’m flipping out! What if it comes and I’m not ready for it!?!?

This website is such bullshit! Look what else it says:

What happens if you are 16 and you still haven’t got your period?

Some girls get their menstrual cycle later in life. In fact it happens so often, to so many girls around the world, that it also gets a special name, Primary Amenorrhoea (doesn’t rhyme with anything). It’s a big fancy name for the fact that your body hasn’t started its menstrual cycle but lots of your friends probably have. It’s not a big deal, and many of your friends might even be jealous that you don’t need to worry about PMS or having tampons with you 24/7 – not that they are likely to admit it!

Why does this sound like it was written by someone who didn’t get their period…like…EVER?!?! Lots of my friends? What friends? People are jealous of me because I don’t have to worry about PMS or having…DIAPERS?!?! Are they also jealous of Fredericca the old hag and her MENOPAUSE?!?! This is such horseshit! Matty, hear me out on this one, will you?

Why though? I need to know WHY? Did I do something wrong?

What causes your menstrual cycle to develop late?

Your chromosomes are tiny, tiny parts of the building blocks of your body (DNA). They tell your body how to develop, how big to grow, what colour hair to have as well as heaps more.

BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH — enough of that!

Chromosomes get passed down from your mum and your dad – so chances are if your period is a bit delayed mum and grandma’s may have come late too. It might be a worry to you now but the truth is your period will no doubt come quicker than Miley Cyrus next single.

Are they fucking kidding me? What was this written in 2014? This shit is so OLD!!! No wonder it’s not telling me anything! This is MODERN SCIENCE!!! Not some stone-age prehistoric bullshit! What’s going on with my…um. What’s going on with me?!?!

Your Hypothalamus (the big bit at the back of your brain) is like a mini control centre for lots of functions of your body. It gets your temperature right, makes you hungry and thirsty and it also controls your period. Heaps of things can mess with your Hypothalamus; like eating habits, too much or too little exercise or lotsa stresses.

Yeah yeah yeah…what of it?

In very few cases there may have been some probs you have had with you your whole life but only start appearing now – so if you are really worried about not getting your period yet its best to chat with mum, your doctor or a close friend.

Hypo-what? Gerhardt’s Anatomy and Physiology class must have missed a few things. I can’t talk to my MUM — what is this a British accented website? My doctor? Hah! I still see the family pediatrician! And he’s a creepy old German dude who smells like soup. How is he gonna know what’s going on with my…uh vagina. Eew. It’s so weird to write that word. I guess I can say it to you because you’re my diary. Vagina. Uh, Matty? Are you there?

My Parents Suck
I want a car so badly

4) Once you have written out your profile, start writing about your day. In the first entry, when you mention people, write what relationship you have with them: Are they your best friend, worst enemy or crush? That way, in 50 years, you will know.

Today sucked. Gerhardt can be such a dick. Oh, the instructions say that I should explain my relationship to the people I mention. Gerhardt and Fredericca adopted me fifteen years ago when I was…well, zero. They raised me alongside their “real” children as indistinguishable from the ones they actually contributed to making. Three boys! Great! Grand! Wunderbar! Achtung! God must not have wanted them to have a baby girl. Gerhardt says, “He works in mysterious ways.” I wonder what would have happened if they had actually had a girl. I’d have gone to an orphanage or another pair of foster parents. Maybe no one would take me in. What if no one had wanted me? That’s depressing.

I don’t know anything about my real parents. Should I call them “birth-mother” and “birth-father?” That sounds like the kind of crap they teach you about in public school. I call them my REAL parents because they are. I am the result of their…sex. Whatever that’s like. Ugh! I feel so sheltered sometimes. Maybe that’s what I’m really missing by being home-schooled; sex, drugs, and forbidden music! Think of all the bad decisions I could be making! It’s staggering. I bet my parents went to public school. Having four children just seems like a bad decision. Three could have been an accident…maybe. But they had to go through trouble to get me…pay money and stuff.

Gerhardt told me that my mom and dad were drug addicts. They were high as hell when they got into a brutal car accident and were rushed to the hospital. Can you believe that? My mom, nine months preggers, main-lining heroin just a few weeks before she was supposed to be, well…my mom. The shock to her system sent her into labor and I popped out twenty-three grueling hours later. My dad had died on the operating table, not from the crash, but from an overdose. I wonder if my mom even knew. She went into labor I popped out twenty hours later — kicking and screaming and just as addicted to heroin as she was. She lived. I lived. We both did. Isn’t that something to be happy about? Gerhardt never told me what happened but when two years ago I did a little digging (read: hacking) into some deep web stuff. I’d been messing around with the IRC and on some old BBS boards looking for the Shadowboard. I was able to dig up her police record and it said that she had committed suicide on March 1, 2000. She was found in her hospital bed with the bed straps around her neck, hanging off the gurney. I guess she really didn’t wanna be my mom.

Well, however it happened, I hope I was the result of “love” — of two people who are truly, deeply, passionately “into” each other. And I…oh, uh, hah…um. That was a bad pun. Sorry Diary.

Anyway, he wanted me to call him “dad” or “papa” or “father” or any of the other misleading bullshit titles. And I did that…until I found out. I called him “dad” and I called Fredericca “mom” until the day I learned they weren’t my real parents. It was my tenth birthday and Gerhardt and Fredericca threw me a little party. I was so excited! I can still see the gleam of the candles on the cake! The ten little flames danced like will o’ wisps and fireflies before me. My eyes were as big and round as saucers, gray-green pools of smoky, murky water — not the crystal blue of an azure glacial tarn. I was dressed in my best Sunday dress with flowers! Everyone was there. Well everyone in my little world — which didn’t really extend out past the front door. Gerhardt, Fredericca, Conrad, Roman, and Jesper. Conrad, being the oldest and most observant announced to no one in particular. “Hazel is the only one in the whole family who doesn’t have blond hair. Pa? Why does Hazel look so different? Her hair is dark and her eyes are gray…ish. And she’s kinda short and scrawny. Ma?”

They hushed him at the time and I was so enthralled by the presents and the cake that it hardly registered. I hardly noticed that I didn’t look like my family. I was the ugly duckling. My mom and dad were tall, robust, thick-shouldered and blond-haired. Their piercing blue eyes had been passed on to all three boys. Later that evening when the festivities had quieted down I looked at my dad and looked at myself and “measured up.” I asked him point blank. “Why do I look different? Am I ugly?” Gerhardt smiled and hugged me and told me the truth: That I was not his and Fredericca’s daughter by birth but that they had adopted me.

(blot of water // water splotches on the page)

Fredericca and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye but she doesn’t have much time to devote to mother-daughter bonding with all the doting she does on my brothers. Excuse me, “her sons.” They’re NOT my brothers. Roman, Conrad, and Jesper may call me their “sister” but I know better. They are 2 years, 3 years, and 5 years older than me. And they have a lot more freedom. I know I know, Diary, I’m a girl blah blah blah. I can defend myself. I know MAGIC!!!!

I want a car so badly!

What's in a Name
That which we call a rose by any other name...

Would it still smell as sweetly as me? As little ol’ Hazel? Or would it smell as sweetly Lashe’evadne blahblahblah? Gah, why did Gerhardt care about poetry so much? What about names? You don’t have a name yet. So, Diary, what will your name be? Diane the Diary? Diarrhea the Diary? Diode the Diarrhea Diary? That sounds like alliteration.

What shall I call you? Brunhilda? Esmerelda? Griselda? — that’s my…well, one of my middle names. Helga? Olga? Matilda? Matilda? Hmm…that one might stick. Well, Matilda, as you know, I am Lashe’evadne Sycorax-Circe Griselda Duchesne. Now, I’m not sure where “Matilda” comes from but Goggle says it is Gothic in origin derived from the words mahta (meaning “might” or “strength”) and hildr (meaning “battle”). Might in battle! That’s awfully symbolic! But I think it would get you picked-on at public school.

Just like I named you, Gerhardt says someone named me but he won’t say who; it’s on my birth-certificate though, whatever that means. He says he doesn’t know but assumes it was my parents: Two drug addicts who were dead before I even opened my eyes. What’s in a name? My name doesn’t mean anything as kewl as yours…I’m sure. Let’s pull Goggle up and see what all those different names mean and where they come from.

(humming) Hmmm…Goggle. Whoever invented this thing was a genius! It’s like…the information super-highway is at my fingertips! And I’m wasting all that brainpower on something silly like my name. Ah! Here it is!

Lashe means…well, Goggle says it might not mean anything! Evadne is some kind of Greek woman who had sex with Apollo. Sycorax was a vicious and powerful witch — fiction — in a play called The Tempest by William Shakespeare. Hmm…it says she was banished to an island for practicing magic so strong she could control the moon! Whoa! Maybe one day that will be me! All alone and miserable with no friends except my diary. Hey wait a minute! That’s not fair! Matilda you pulled a fast one on me! Let’s keep going. Circe — ooh! There’s another Greek reference. This one is a goddess of magic. Oh. Um, it says she might have just been a witch. Ugh. Is someone trying to tell me something? Next! Griselda? It was in a couple of stories that I’ve never heard of. Chaucer’s Canterbury tales sounds familiar. That’s in Olde Englishe, though, and Gerhardt has a hard-on for anything old and English.

Speaking of hard-ons. Ick. I saw Roman doing something…weird two nights ago. I woke up in the middle of the night because I had to pee. It was really dark and I couldn’t see the clock but it was probably like one or two. I tiptoed to the bathroom like I usually do because I didn’t want to wake anyone up and those old floorboards creak so badly in the hallway. That’s when I noticed it. There was a small light on in his room — like from his reading lamp — and the door was cracked just enough for me to peek. It sounded like he was out of breath or something. Like he was exercising. Why was Roman exercising in the middle of the night? Why do I have some of the stupidest brothers — sorry, UNRELATED, so step-brothers by well, marriage, nah…adoption I guess. I peered through the crack in the doorway and looked around the room until I saw Roman laying on his bed with his y’know thing in his hand and it was sticking straight up! He was making these grunting noises like when Morgenstern gets all whiny for table-scraps after dinner.

Grosss! It was so weird looking and and…I dunno, I felt like guilty or something…like I was invading his privacy or…I dunno. Why could he just keep the door closed — and LOCKED!

Gerhardt’s version of Health class was like the watered down shadow of Cliff’s Notes. I mean, I’m sixteen years-old so I’m not totally ignorant. I think Roman was doing “masterrbacion” on himself. The book says it’s normal. Sigh. I wish I had another girl to talk to. My female-parent — Fredericca — barely acknowledges me. I feel like she didn’t even want me! Or maybe she did 16 years ago but now she doesn’t…or maybe she regrets adopting me. Maybe god was punishing her by not giving her a baby girl and they just went out and got one anyway. Why is life so unfair? I wish I had a sister. She can be such a bitch sometimes like she’s the queen of the house. I just don’t bow and scrape to her like the boys do. She’s supposed to be the one who helps me out here! Matilda, Matty, we haven’t even had the “woman” talk yet! Gerhardt said in Anatomy and Physiology that Fredericca would be doing my half of the “practical” education. He’s such a wuss. I guess I’ll have to learn it on my own.

A Young Lady's Illustrated Primer
Page One -- The First of Many

(Aloud) Okay, follow the steps. This should be easy, right?

1) Firstly, decorate the cover! Either write something boring like ‘Algebra Homework’, and your name, or decorate it to your personality. This will encourage you to open the book and start on the first page!

(Aloud) Hmmm…let’s see. Ooh! I’ll put some stickers here. And I’ll put a big heart on it over here. And just there I’ll name it in big letters! And I’ll draw a picture of a broomstick and a little black cat named “Gargamel!” Now for a name. What shall I call my diary?


(Aloud) That ought to get my attention. I am supposed to be writing on a regular basis. Okay, next step?

2) Find a pen or pencil that you can write comfortably with. Bright, vibrant colors are nice but your favorite color is better.

(Aloud) Well my favorite call just happens to be bright and vibrant! Hot Pink it is!

3) Make the first few pages into a profile! Stick in a photograph of yourself, or draw a sketch, and write out the following information:

(Aloud) Oh boy! As if Gerhardt doesn’t give me enough homework. Being home-schooled sucks. The public school kids have it easy! Excuse me – this is where I’m supposed to express how thankful I am for all the effort and energy my parents are pouring into my education.

(Vomiting and retching sounds)

(Aloud) Whatever. I’ll have my learner’s permit soon and I can leave this stupid pris…er, house. So what should I put for a picture? I do have that sketch Genzo drew of me last Halloween at the fair. Hmph! That’ll work for now. Note to self: Starving artists draw terrible portraits!


Full name – Lashe’evadne Sycorax-Circe Griselda Duchesne
Nickname – Hazel
Date of birth and age – February 29, 2000, Leap Day! 16 years old
Your best friends – Greymalkin and Morgenstern
Your worst enemies – Homework and Danica Forsby
Likes – kittens, puppies, pink, cupcakes, lip-gloss, One Direction, Facebook, and magic
Dislikes – mean people, Tweeting selfies, Facebook stalkers, smelly socks, Candy Crush
Favorite food – pizza (duh?)
Least favorite food – brussel sprouts
Favorite drink – Fizzy Pop Mountain Dew
Least favorite drink – uhhhh…coffee!
Favorite musicians/musicianONE DIRECTION!
Least favorite musicians/musician – those old guys with the banjo’s and beards
Favorite candy – Twizzlers
Least favorite candy – Junior Mints, gross!
Favorite animal – Ligers (but if those don’t count then Dragons)
Nastiest animal – Tasmanian Devil
Your hair and eye color, and other physical features – I have reddish hair most of the time. I think the name is “auburn” and my eyes are “hazel” colored, that’s why everyone calls me Hazel.

(Aloud) Well that wasn’t so bad. Next step!

4) Once you have written out your profile, start writing about your day. In the first entry, when you mention people, write what relationship you have with them: Are they your best friend, worst enemy or crush? That way, in 50 years, you will know.

(Aloud) Fifty years? Are they kidding? As soon as I leave for college I’m dumping this stupid thing in the garb…er, recycling bin.


Anything in your diary has a chance of being found out. Remember this.

Be careful to hide your diary in a good hiding space in case someone gets access to it. Good places may be:

In the pocket of an old coat

With another book’s cover on it

In your knickers/pants drawer

Under your pillow

(Aloud): Uh, okay scary warning. Thanks for the stress. I probably won’t write anything important in here anyway. Good call on hiding it!


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