peckenpaugh | THE UPPER LEVELS

up into the balconies

you climb The breathing boughs of that nightmare tree crowd into the upper balconies of the ruined auditorium. You have to duck and bend to get by them in places, sometimes through spaces that seem to grow smaller as you press through. These branches are warm to the touch, some of them uncomfortably so, pulsing with something that isn't quite life.

You've climbed these stairs more than once in your time here; to take your place after your sorting, to watch new students find their House, or perhaps just for an assembly. This building always seemed so sturdy, so safe. It was a place to go for shows, for celebrations, and hell, to just get out of class. Now, the floorboards creek precariously, split and splintering where vines have crept through. Benches are broken, overturned and tossed aside to make room for the auditorium's new king: the malignant maple. Up here, the glowing blue seeds hanging from branches are close enough to pluck. Those that have ripened litter the floor and railings, filling the balconies with an eerie blue twinkle.

The air is muggy, clogged by falling ash. It stinks of coal and sulfer. But you keep moving, anyway. Keep opening portals and pushing on. Just a little bit higher, and then maybe you'll be able to plunge into the depths.

and you fight By now there's a plan, and with it, a slowly growing brigade of people, of beings, of bugs, who are gathering to push back against inevitability.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nevermind. I've found it," Viola tells Ramona and picks up the golden copy of the speech to inspect.

Snippets jump out as Viola inspects the parchment.

"... The loss of our neighbors in Paw Paw ... dark times in our great town as a creeping dread descended ... the heroic sacrifices of a few ... prevented unfathomable loss ..."

More is crossed out underneath, illegible. Looks like a speech no one ever wanted to write.

Ramona doubles back, hesitant to turn her back on the shadowy figure but too curious to ignore the linchpin.

"What does it say?" she asks even as she draws up by Viola's shoulder to read over it. As she scans the words, a second and more important question forms in her mind. "Do you understand what happened?" she asks Viola. She doesn't, not really - she only has these disparate bits of the story, and it's a puzzle she can't quite put together. There's nothing more irritating to her.

"Is it done?" Zippy asks, quiet. His voice sounds hoarse. Empty. Unraveled. Not like the Zippy that greets students every Move In Day with hot dogs and ice cream and cat hair garnish.

"Yeah." The voice on the other side is quiet, too. Gruff, but warm. "It's done."

Zippy sits there for a moment, sparing a glance for the speech on his desk, and lets out a long, aching sigh. He pushes back from his seat, weaves his way through the boxes all over his floor, and leaves.

As the door slams shut behind him, a stack of boxes tumble to the floor, revealing a bright pink curtain that looks an awful lot like the entrance to the Zippy Dip’s photobooth. The curtain sways in a sudden breeze, and behind it you see Peckenpaugh’s auditorium.

THE UPPER LEVELS

MEMORY: After The Sealing

MEMORY: After The Sealing

MEMORY: After The Sealing

MEMORY: After The Sealing