Writing Exercise, July 17, 2023
The madam’s office stood in stark contrast to the rest of the estate: while tastefully appointed, it reminded Adam of his father’s office, rather than anything to do with sex work. Madam Twilight in general reminded Adam of him, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t her demeanor, which, while authoritative, was also not lacking in warmth. She was also neither the most fashionable of the women he’d seen over the last half an hour, nor the most deliberate in her sartorial choices. In short, if he hadn’t met her at the office, he would have believed her just another of the house’s residents.
“So, I understand we have you to thank for our Mary Jane’s safe return, doctor. Are you usually in the habit of strolling through the forest at night?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. No reason to give explanations he didn’t need to, yet. “Is she?” Against all logic, Mary Jane had acted as if were the most natural thing in the world for her to be at the grotto. Although he supposed it actually made more sense for her than for him, given that night brought as much—or as little—visibility as day did.
“Well, our Mary Jane has always been independent. Clients appreciate that about her. And, as you’ve no doubt concluded, her instincts sometimes border on the uncanny. It’s not the first time she has managed to leave like that.” She said this without bitterness, almost amused. “But I didn’t call you here to talk about her.”
Adam ignored the sudden knot in his throat. “I can leave if you want. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Oh, you’re adorable. No, please, stay for dinner. It’s the least we could do for you for your services. And the girls enjoy having someone around they don’t have to please. No, what I want to talk about is the fact that when she left last night, Mary Jane was, as she’d always been—what’s the technical term—vision impaired? This morning, she is not.”
“Well, the way she explained it, that was the whole reason she’d left was to find St. Agnes’ pool.”
Adam removed three years from his mental estimate of Madame Twilight’s age, as she theatrically rolled her eyes. “Let’s not act stupid. You and I both know the only miraculous thing about St. Agnes is that it’s still usable. It wasn’t the hot springs that healed Mary Jane. And so it must have been something else. After all, just because something isn’t magical doesn’t mean magic doesn’t exist.”
Writing exercise, July 14, 2023
The first disappearance of a Supreme Court Justice judge did not terrify people. It unsettled them, to be sure—how does one of the most protected people in the country just vanish? But it wasn’t the sort of thing anyone could apply to their lives—so she’d disappeared; what does that mean for me, personally?
Which isn’t to say that change didn’t happen. As the fifth vote in a conservative court, Joy Garrett had been essential part of Republicans’ efforts to roll back the last century’s worth of progress. Now, the (barely) Democratic Senate, along with the Democratic White House, had a chance to turn things around—at least if Garrett were to ever be declared dead. And so, many people, including Jackie Joyce, just shrugged and tried to keep their schadenfreude in check. Sure, it was weird as hell, what had happened, but wasn’t the world a better place now?
One month later, just as people seemed in the verge of forgetting, the second judge disappeared.
After the disappearance of Rufus Wainwright, a fixture of the Supreme Court for over twenty years, all hell broke loose. There wasn’t a pattern quite yet, but the extremely low bar for speculation had been cleared, and so a million new theories arose, many of them centering on the fact that, like Garrett, Justice Wainwright had been a staunch—Jackie Joyce would say radical—conservative. If this was a recurring act of God, it was starting to seem as if it had an agenda.
And so impulsive action was taken. Security measures were beefed up, and investigations begun, for all the good they did. Gun sales jumped, and this time Jackie Joyce had to admit to her girlfriend that she couldn’t blame people for it; if people could just disappear like that, then paranoia seemed, if not quite logical, understandable. They were also starting to see more people at church, although their pastor indicated that she did not expect this to last. It was what always happened, during a crisis, and these always eventually ended or were forgotten.
In the Senate and in the networks, Republicans, realizing they had no real leverage, began speaking of conciliation. Given the tragic disappearances of two justices—not deaths, they always emphasized—it would be impulsive and disrespectful and downright irresponsible to even think about rolling back recent decisions. The White House, with its customary fecklessness, seemed to be suggesting the same thing, although according to some sources, steps were being taken in the background to move forward with nominations, and not altogether terrible ones.
One day before Justice Garrett was set to be declared dead, three senators—two republicans; one, a democrat in name only—went missing.
Chasing Sheep 