Episode 17 - Details

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Sometimes I look at the Twitter icon on my phone without opening it, and that feels like an accomplishment in some ways. Sure, doom scrolling is tempting but not healthy, so maybe it is an accomplishment in that regard. But for me, it’s more than that. For me, opening my Twitter means opening up to a Twitter account I set up for a podcast. Not even a podcast character. But a podcast. Strictly to promote a podcast. That was my intention, but that’s not what happened. 

And I keep saying I don’t know how I fell into that hole. How I keep falling deeper and deeper into a Twitter account that did not carry my name and was never supposed to. Into this ability to hide, reinvent myself, pretend. Or escape. Let’s call it what it is. This is me escaping. This is me running into another life. But that life never actually existed, so it’s not like I’m not taking anything from anyone. I’m not hurting or erasing another person. I’m not… I’m not destroying anything. I can still promote my podcast with that feed. I, I can just also exist on it, right?

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With the old king being an only child and his kids coming to him later in his life, the practices of marriage were little more than distant dreams. By practices, of course, politics were really the matter at play. For even in the smallest kingdoms, the marriages of the royal family decided the immediate fate of the kingdom. Literally or symbolically. Both were true. The new members of the family were the greatest influence on the king or queen. Their wishes decided budgets, and their bloodline decided wars. 

The people of the kingdom weren’t too concerned with the details. The princess was the most obvious threat in their lives. She was cold and unpredictable. And tere were many rumors about her cruelty towards the maids who were left tending to her, and they were the daughters of nobles. In their veins were the most protection anyone could hope for against royalty. And that still was not enough to protect them from the princess. So what would that mean for the rest of them? 

But there was the prince, they were quick to remind themselves. The prince was the true heir to the throne, but in the back of their minds and hearts, they knew how quickly he could turn to be a mirror of her. After all, the blood between them could have been the carrier of such an ill, and maybe this much dreaded demeanor was simply lurking beneath the surface. And the wrong sort of bride would bring it out.

It was a fear that was heightened when the call went out for a bride for the prince. But then it dissipated. As quickly as it went out, it was pulled back and gone. Suddenly, a clerk close to the king whispered to someone else, someone in a pub, there was no longer a need for a bride. But he did not know why. And no one knew why. Not at first.

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You know, I have to ask you: did I jump ahead in the story? Did I leave out the details you cared about? Or you could have cared about. I don’t know. I don’t know what needs to be said. I only know what I can’t say.

But if it needs to be added to the record, every person has different aspects to their personality. They have different tendencies and needs. They have different hobbies or curiosities. And so they need different outlets for those things.

The Funhouse Hallway was the game. The Forum was the discussion point. But there were other things out there. School work was the one I always brought up to my mom and dad when I was asked about it. But there were others.

And I don’t want to say that no one gets into fiction podcasting out of the blue. Because one, inaccurate. But two, there are a thousand or more different routes one could have gone down to get to this point and to all the things that this field could offer. Really, what you need is a willingness to tell a story. A desire. And I’ve always imagined that that’s a bit harder to pick up along the walk of life, but maybe that’s just my mind telling me a story that suits its purposes. 

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As for me, I always had this impulse to tell stories. When I was in school, I used to carry a folder full of blank sheets of paper that I would hurriedly scribble on whenever I had a down moment in class. Always in class, too. That was why I couldn’t use a notebook or a binder. Those would have been too obvious. Not that anyone would have chastised me. Not to brag, but I kept my grades up. I tested well. And everyone had a sense of what could be under the surface. But no one wanted to deal with it. No one felt compelled to inconvenience themselves to help me with anything.

So sure, maybe everyone would have preferred that I pay attention to class, just to give class  the equivalent of lip service. But as long as I was discreet about my urge to write fiction in any and all class contexts, they could deal with it. 

But that wasn’t the part I was supposed to talk about. Was it?

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Criers went out into the streets to proclaim the good news. It wasn’t presented as an explanation to a rumor everyone heard. Now the king and queen knew about the rumor, and they were somewhat displeased that the palace walls could not keep such a critical secret inside until the formal declaration could be made. After all, what if this had fallen through? How foolish would they have looked in that moment. 

But the engagement had not fallen through. The prince had picked a lovely young lady to be his bride, and she--in disbelief but flattered that such a handsome and kind young man had asked for her hand--accepted. She was not a princess, as everyone had expected, but she was the daughter of the most prominent general. He who had used the army to tend fields and rebuild during disasters. 

Though no one would dare say it, there were many who loved the general more than a king, although everyone would have preferred his daughter be the princess in line for the throne than the one they had.  But now, they learned, it truly was to be. 

The people gathered around the palace, beneath the large balcony that the new princess would be using to present herself. The energy radiated off of the crowd. And for a moment--as all the citizens stood there with bated breath--the small kingdom wasn’t so small. Their hearts were lifted, giving the impression of great might.

And then they saw her. And they transcended reality entirely, their joy lifting them to heights they had never felt before. 

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Being cooped up at home all day really doesn’t help with this escape impulse. But honestly, I’m a homebody by nature. Adapted nature or true nature is a hair split I’m not going to get into. But I’m in my new home. With my cats. We are settled in and happy. So why should I venture out? Why should I go into new spaces? At the old place, there was a coffee shop nearby, I liked, yes, but it’s far away now. At this new place, there’s one that looks promising, but it’s under renovation. Taking the opportunity to do what they’ve been putting off, I guess. That’s what I tell myself. And hey, I can pick up some pretty amazing sandwiches from there. So I can’t really complain. Or I shouldn’t. 

Physical escape is a joke right now. I don’t know where I would go. If I ever could. Walking around the neighborhood day or night is unnerving for me. And yes, I’m in a big city. So maybe that makes… sense? Maybe there are reasons, ones you know and ones known by people with a very different life experience, that I shouldn’t go for walks outside, especially at night.

But I want to walk at night. I want to walk when I know my demons wouldn’t bother to follow me. Maybe because this is what they do want. This is what they want me to do, and I’m surprisingly willing to go through with it. Because that’s not the reason why I would. In reality, I’m trying to find my way. I’m trying to find a path that may not exist.

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Aishi and I did talk about life on The Forum. In a private thread that was meant for piecing together the clues we shared in this mystery. We couldn’t just talk about that, though. Even if that was the unspoken expectation or even the wise thing to do. Things would slip. Or deliberately be mentioned. Because we both needed social connection. Everyone needs social connections. We were limited, however. We were limited in the outside world, bound only to each other. 

Or that’s how I would have said it. Admittedly, there’s some dramatics surrounding that. Maybe even an inaccuracy or two. Who knows. 

The point being, Aishi knew I was a writer. They knew, and they knew the world better than I did. Even the internet. Especially the internet.

They took the first step, but together, we jumped around from website to website. Until we found one that somewhat fit. Like I said it wasn’t ideal. I’m not a fantasy writer. But the community of Symbolic Myst didn’t seem to care about quality. 

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There were two major criteria to stay on that site and not get smacked by the ban hammer. And neither had to do with merit. For one, there was an open dialogue surrounding every story, and you had to display a genuine willingness to take the criticism on the review threads. Which they called learning, but I’ve known plenty of people who are willing to learn but willing to take criticism, so it’s not what you want to think it is.

But hey, that sort of mindset made everything easier on the moderators. There was no need for them to get involved in petty disputes, they said, and I understood that fully. Like, I get it. That’s why I never want to do any sort of moderation ever. And also, it left the door open for people to post whatever kinds of stories they found interesting. Which wasn’t a great thing all the time. But there was a system for handling it. Somebody would post, they would criticize, and they could take it, which would mean adjusting their behavior or leave. And yes, a lot of people left.

Ironically, a lot of the people who left were the most likely to try and take advantage of that rule. And that’s partially because the second component for consideration was to be actively posting stories or chapters or some original work. You couldn’t just comment; you had to be a creative presence on a site about creativity, which meant that if you started a problem, you were likely going to get a taste of that same problem if not a heaping serving. And that was a pretty good deterrent. And once again, maybe it’s because there were so few of us.

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The prince’s bride lowered herself until her chest brushed against the gilded railing of the balcony. Her arms were wide-open. Her eyes lowered, which hid the nervousness on her face and in her breath. While the crowd was at a distance, she thought it was possible that they might see her fear, a reaction that was likely not noble.

But the people were sold on her. Noble or not, she was the one they wanted to be their queen. She had nothing to prove. In fact, it was as if the gods and goddess had heard their prayers and given in to their desires. They loved that girl. Oh how they loved her. 

And this did not go unnoticed.

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I don’t feel trapped in my apartment. (Pause) Maybe if I say that aloud it would help. Maybe that will make it feel real. But in reality, I want to scream simply so that someone will hear my scream. That’s it. That’s all I’ve wanted. And maybe that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

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The princess by birth stood back as her parents and brother presented this woman to the kingdom. She heard the cries of joy and ecstasy from the ground below. She saw how the crowd welcomed this random woman more eagerly than they had ever welcomed her. And she seethed a bit. Her teeth clenched around the inside of her lip until beads of blood rose to the surface. And unfortunately for everyone, she found that she liked the taste.

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I think I know the question you have. I think I know what it is you want to know. What did Aishi post, you are wondering. Maybe you are checking the time progression on your podcast player earnestly wondering if I’m going to get to that point. If you’re going to find out this week. Or if I’m going to make you wait.

Aishi did not write anything. They took some of mine stuff. Which was not their idea but mine. It was my idea that we stay on that site. It was my idea that they take my work. I had a lot to spare after all. Hey, look how many shows I have right not. Face it, I like to be busy. But I wanted some sense of order, you know? There were stories I wanted to keep together and stories that I wanted to keep separate, so it worked out. And hey, there were, there were people who had extra accounts for this reason. It was fine. Not ideal but fine. 

A lot of things were, like that. My username being a great example. (Pause). I haven’t decided if I’m giving you that piece yet.

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Aishi Online is a production of Miscellany Media Studios. It is written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. With music from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. If you like the show please consider leaving a review or posting about it on a website that might not be around in five years. Make the post vague and somewhat mysterious but still compelling if you want. Up to you.

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