Episode 20 - Meaning

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There was a period of time, lasting several years, in which I did not create anything. I couldn’t. And sure, maybe you want to crack a joke about me making up for lost time. I mean, I’ve got a bunch of projects running and even more waiting in the wings for me to finish putting them together before they too can start the dance I will then have to supervise. I joked about launching 20 shows in 2020 back in January. Back in (with a sigh) what feels like another life, but I still kind of want to do it.

That’s not the point, though.

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The point was that I could not create for a while. It’s not that I was incapable of doing it. It’s not that I was having any sort of writer’s block. It’s that I… (with an exhale) Well, I couldn’t. Like I couldn’t actually do it. So maybe I was incapable for a while.

Sure, I could string some words together, have them make sense, completely convey a thought that could have been of interest to some people. But it didn’t feel like it was me doing that. It wasn’t my voice is what I’m saying. And I, I know that might not make a great deal of sense to you. I mean, if I’m the one typing everything out, then… Then it must be me talking, right? Or writing. Right. Sorry. 

But if it’s my fingers striking the keys or holding the pens, then I’m writing. I am the one doing it. It is me writing out these ideas, these thoughts, these words, but it wouldn’t have been.  It’s wouldn’t have been my voice. My--My voice has been shut out of my hands and mouth.

I’ve… It’s always been fairly easy to talk over me. In so far as there is a ‘that kind of person,’ the kind of person who always gets talked over, that’s always been who I am. I’m the kind of person that can be talked over easily. I’m the kind of person whose voice gets lost at another’s person command.

I’m easy to erase. Or not quite erase. I’m easy to brush aside. But it’s never easy to come back.

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One taste of blood is seldom enough. It meets the lips and seeps into the soul, corrupting each and every cell as it travels through the body and to the heart. Then these cells, now bound to a different urge than their neighbors seek to convert them, turn them over to their own, destructive side. But there’s only one way to do that: with more blood.

Normally, the afflicted would labor with the decision a bit, at least at first, but the princess was not like that. She was never… Well, she was not normal by any stretch. Human beings are not perfect, but there is usually something within them that recognizes certain lines that must not be crossed under any circumstance. That certain things, like the human life of someone in a similar status and place in society as you, must remain untampered with, least turnabout occur. 

That is the proverbial last line of defense, though. There were many before that, but this was the final barrier that was meant to keep most people at bay. But not the princess. She could not understand any reason why she should be deterred.

You see, the princess wanted what was not hers. It was something she had always wanted, At the very core of her being, she was envy and lust and other vices in that genus. And that first taste of blood, done for the love of those bound to serve her, opened up opportunities for more: a more she could not resist.

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It wasn’t… Well, that whole thing came from a variety of factors, I guess. But I don’t know if I was ever, one time in my life,  taught to value my own voice. If anything, my voice was a liability, for reasons. For reasons, I can’t or won’t go into. But there was a time when my family generally needed me to not talk. In person, they didn’t really understand the alternative. They didn’t understand the online world.

It was there that I had any sort of voice. And yes, you know, Aishi was still able to exert some control over me. But for the most part, I was still me. It was my voice, just one that was filtered and otherwise limited.

But when I was writing, I had free reign. Because you could hide things in fiction that I could never say aloud. And it was easy to. The context makes it easy. You’re not consciously connecting it to reality, so you’re not looking for certain things. With fiction, there’s always going to be a lot of smoke and mirrors and veils, and it might all be covering up nothing, just the fanciful delights of a random, creative person. It was all so easy. It’s always so easy, especially if the people around you have decided to not pay attention because you’re overall just useless to them as long as you keep silent. 

So if no one read what I wrote, then it was easy to get away with whatever I wrote. Because there were things I needed to say. There were things I desperately needed to say, but I couldn’t.

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The princess knew love, just the worst kind of love. It did not come from her parents who saw the signs early on and denied her their affection out of disgust for what she clearly was. Or that’s what they wanted to believe was true, but it was not. 

It is the duty of the king and queen to have multiple children, yes. An heir and a spare is what is always said, not just in the small kingdom but across the lands. The throne needed to pass from one generation of royalty to the next. This was a universal truth. But it was also a universal truth that some tragedy was always possible. And so there needed to be another.

And so--though the prince seemed to be a promising ruler, even from a young age--the king and queen worked on having another child. They had the princess for that reason and not with any sort of enthusiasm, but by the time she was old enough to know her parents and yearn for their love, the prince’s life was secure. He had made it through the most dangerous time of a child’s life. He had caught the plague and survived it. Clearly, he was chosen to rule.

And the king told his daughter that when the princess started dreaming of wearing her mother’s crown. As the only sort of comfort he would ever give her, the king promised her another crown, someday: that of a distant kingdom, with a handsome young man by her side.

But that was not enough for the princess. She had never had enough, by any standards.

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That understanding of what writing could be had always been my own. No one had taught me to think that way. Not even the GiftedDuckling. It was just something I had started to think one day. It was a thought that came to be in the course of my life, almost like a coping mechanism you could say. Those things started to weave themselves into the fiber of your being after a while. I don’t think I could ever change that part of me.

The GiftedDuckling noticed, or so I think. I mean, she could tell something was going on with me, something I couldn’t say aloud.

She asked me about my home life a couple times. In vague terms, of course. She never would have pushed the point, but the shutdown was telling in and of itself. And I… I always shutdown. So she asked me about my writing instead. And I was happy to talk about that. I love talking about my writing. It was a way of screaming into the void, as it were. 

But that time, the void was listening. For once, I… For once, I was heard. (inhale)

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The princess did have the love of an individual. She had the love of the one who bore the eyes that floated in the palace shadows. He had loved the princess for many years. So much in fact, that he abandoned his post in the royal guard to watch over her and serve her. 

Only her, he vowed.

Now the princess did not like him very much. He was not very handsome, what with a long scar down the side of his face, reaching down to his neck. But she did like his words. That was enough for her. That was enough for death and destruction that was to follow. For desires to rise to the surface and swallow up not just her brother’s young bride but the prince as well.

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I couldn’t tell what the GiftedDuckling was doing at first. She was… Subtle about it. More subtle than the queen had ever been.

She gave me writing prompts. Formal extended prompts for a while. You know the kind: envision a world where [blank] is true. Or what if we were on a planet where… You know the deal. There’s more structure to the kind of writing prompts I’m talking about. There’s clearly a sort of direction they are meant to take you on. And we did those for a while, but then she… (inhale) She increased the difficulty, as she called it. Maybe it would have been harder or maybe not. I don’t actually remember if having less to go on made it harder for me, but I liked the phrasing. It definitely lit a fire in me, and suddenly, I was a lot more game to do it. 

And that’s what she needed. After all, I could have always turned her down. And that was the risk she was taking. There was a chance that she could step too far, and either I wouldn’t be interested in talking to her anymore. Or Aishi could slip in, and it would all fall apart. The GiftedDuckling had to be careful, and she was.

The first word was ‘umbrella,’ then ‘cup.”

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The princess had her plan. She didn’t need to have one, true. The eyes in the corner could operate well enough with only a goal in mind and nothing else. But she wanted all things to go her way. She wanted to be the one to write out the details. She wanted to have that power, even if she was not going to be the one to issue the crushing blow. 

Or that’s what she told herself. In reality, she wanted the prince to suffer, and she wasn’t strong enough physically to make that happen.

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I didn’t post all of those stories onto Symbolic Myst. Not just because they weren’t all fantasy, although that was a reason. Of those I did post, some of them went under Aishi’s account and some under mine. I mean I, I didn’t want the full story to be put together. And putting it all in one account just made it too obvious. And to that end, it helped that I never explained what inspired these stories: that I got the words from the GiftedDuckling. No one knew that we were that close.

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The princess was alone in her chambers one night. It was rare that the eyes in the shadows were not so close by, but as he told her, he needed to know the prince’s routines. The princess accepted this. And she released in the lavish way he showered her with praise and lamented his time away from her. She enjoyed the way he worshiped her, and his absences could be permitted if it meant that he would offer her tribute more fully. 

But that also meant the princess was alone when the queen snuck into her chambers.

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Lately, I’ve been wanted to write more and more and more. Completely swinging the opposite way in a span of two weeks. The human mind is fickle, they say. Or maybe they don’t say, but it was more poetic to put it that way. You know what I mean. We change our opinions, our actions, our professed beliefs, our inclinations. Some days we can’t function, but thankfully that isn’t for long. All things pass, right?

Like the saying, “This too shall pass,” I always did like that phrase.

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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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