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

"Yet another prom party game," Presley says with a sigh. "You know, I was just in one where we all had to bleed onto paper to make a symbol. If all of this doesn't lead to us finishing a horrible cult rite, it'll be a miracle." He rolls the glowing change jar in his hand, wondering if it's another placement puzzle like the tarot cards in Wyatt's memory, but nothing obvious stands out. The only unfinished task he sees here is packing boxes, and he's not about to do Bryce's job for him.

He looks from Winter to Ramona (now holding the tape gun, if they honestly have to start packing boxes, he's going to scream), and back again. "Did you see anything outside?"

They don't have to pack his boxes for him, but things jolt forward eventually.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Bruno Ellerby shouts from the street, waving apologetically up at the window as he tries to climb out of a cramped Camaro. Behind him, Bryce can hear a gentle exhale. The closest thing to a laugh he’s heard from his mother in weeks.

“I’m not taking you away from them,” Marilynn continues as the sound of the horn continues to echo through the neighborhood. “I still love this town, I still want you to go to Peckenpaugh.”

“What if I don’t want to come back? You get to bail, why can’t I just go to Ilvermorny or something? Just,” he throws his hands up in a frustrated shrug, “leave all this shit behind?”

Marilynn doesn’t answer right away. She climbs to her feet, hefting the box up with a surprising strength. Then again, Marilynn Swint Qualls has always surprised people with her strength. “I don’t think you can, honey,” she answers, finally, as she moves to the door. “This holler is in your blood, and your blood is in this holler. It’ll call you back.”

Bryce doesn’t say anything. His mother clearly doesn’t expect him to. She takes the box out into the hall, but for everyone else it’s an exit to 2020.

THE UPPER LEVELS

MEMORY: Moving Out But Not On

MEMORY: Moving Out But Not On