The Fool and the Donkey Track I

TRACK 1 – “The Castle” – accredited composer – Lewis, Lynsi.

The red curtain lifted and the Eldritch silenced its many hands. This audience, made of human and not-so human-shaped silhouettes, inched forward in their red leather seats. An entity of singular and many, it watched the events unfold on stage. After all, what other entertainment was there if not on Earth? With the Modern Plague coming, anything was possible.

On stage, the Beast readjusted Lynsi’s bed and set it upright. The Beast stood, smoothed down layers of blankets, and plopped onto the soft wool. Stretching, the Beast reached for a tuff of fur around his ear and curled it around his finger.

“So, uh, how’s about it, huh? It’s Part fucking Two time!” 

Lynsi inhaled the yellow smoke from the white tip and placed her dab pen in her lap. Exhaling the vapor over in the Beast’s direction, she said:

“No.”

 “Oh, come on. Aren’t you the one always saying you’d like to be a successful music producer?”

“And what does that have anything to do with…”

The Beast sat upright and reached for the stage ceiling. Fliers fell from above and littered the hard floor. The Beast grabbed one and held it up to Lynsi’s face. Lynsi narrowed her eyes and read the small print between the image of a fenced in park that was bathed in multicolor stage light.

“Come one, come all,” she read out loud. “The festival awaits for all creatives! Think you’ve got the stuff? Think you can make it in this world? Then come to the festival and partake in its wonders! Join the likes of—I already told you I’m not going.”

The Beast rolled his eyes. “Come ON, Lynsi. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you keep hiding away in your room all the time! Part Two’s finally out, Isadora’s no where to be seen—you might as well go!”

“I can’t, Beast!” Lynsi whined. “Just the idea of being anywhere in the same vicinity as Peter…” Her hands trembled.

“But it’s ‘The Album Part Two’! All we gotta do is go, have fun, and then find a group of music producers to interact with later!”

Still, Lynsi’s eyes widened. She turned away from the Beast, hands still trembling.

“There’s nothing scary about it, Lynsi!” The Beast swung his legs off the bed to kick some air.

“He’s just a person like anyone else. You’re the one who wants to be in the same career as him and this is an opportunity to just—you know—dip your toes in…”

“I can’t dip my fucking toes, Beast. I can’t even move my legs.” Lynsi gestured at her power wheelchair.

“You can with a lift!” The Beast quipped. “And I’m sure there will be lifts there. Heck, there’ll probably be other aspiring music producers there who also use wheelchairs. Why not take the risk and see how it goes?”

Lynsi shrunk in on herself, gluing her arms to her sides.

“But I’m no good, Beast.”

“In what way exactly?” The Beast straightened his back. “You won’t even talk to Peter and we’ll be able to learn more about the industry that YOU keep saying you care so much about!”

“But I’m no good! I’m no good!”

“That’s not true! Davis likes our compositions. So does Harry. Even Isadora…”

Lynsi’s heart nearly burst from her chest.

Lights switched on right of center stage. Lynsi, a year younger dressed in striped flannel and vest, wheeled on stage. A young woman dressed in similar attire followed suit.

“That was a fucking awesome composition, Lynsi.” She said. “Especially the lyrics! Holy shit! That was, like, a whole ass book in a song!”

“Thanks, Isadora…was there, uh, anything else you liked? Music wise, I mean, not just the lyrics.”

“Uh…well, there was that bass—which is always pretty good, plus the synths and that repeating up and down thing. That was cool too.”

“The arpeggio, yeah. Yeah. Anything I can maybe work on though?” 

Isadora just shrugged. “Well, I mean—I thought it was…interesting that it was in major key. Like the whole composition has this sound to it that makes me think it’s gonna dip into minor, but it never really does until the end and it’s—uh—well—I’ve never heard anything like that. It’s still cool though!”

Lynsi nodded. “Yeah.”

The audience pointed at the two women. In unison, they said:

“This is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard! Be uplifting!”

“Yeah, I’m uh—still trying to figure out my sound.”

The stage lights right of center went dark then. Lynsi clutched her chest and looked down.

“Don’t remind me of that composition, Beast—and please don’t remind me of Isadora.”

“I was just trying to say that you’re not…”

“And besides,” Lynsi pointed at the Beast and narrowed her eyes, “it’s your fault she wants nothing to do with me.”

The Beast rolled his eyes again and shrugged widely. Lynsi continued:

“She liked me better when you weren’t obsessing over ‘The Album’! But no! Nooo, you just had to fucking ruin it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought, since she’s your friend and all, she would—I don’t know—accept you for who you are?”

“We were OBSESSING over it! We still are! We can’t go to the goddamn festival, Beast. Not like this!”

“All we gotta do is show up, enjoy the music, meet some producers…”

Lynsi shook her head and inhaled sharply.

Lights switched on left of center stage.

A middle-aged woman sat across from nineteen-year-old Lynsi. Unlike Lynsi, who dressed in casual attire, this woman wore a grey blazer, a white blouse, and grey slacks. The woman pursed her lips and folded her hands over her legs.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that composition. Those…lyrics are…well…I’ve never heard something so full of sorrow and yearning—in major key—and, well, a girl like you—you’re so young, Lynsi. Why are you composing something like this?”

“I think it’s an interesting topic to explore.”

“But to compose a song of a lost soul traveling through a town where it always rains, only to find out that his own murderous rage was the cause of its supernatural troubles—in major key—it’s just so odd.”

“I mean, it is happy in a way. He learns so much about himself and his values and—well, he finds out he did it to protect someone he loved. It’s a spiritual journey, you know? He’s not only trying to learn who he is, but then why he did what he did, and he accepts himself in the end, even though he was pushed to something as egregious as…”

“I don’t know, Lynsi. I just don’t see how anyone would want ‘The Castle’  to be produced. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can continue helping you with this.”

The lights left of center stage switched off.

“I can’t even do something as basic as compose in the right key, Beast. If I’m that stupid then I think it ought to be clear by now that I really am no good. Sides, no one cares about your work unless you’re a somebody—and I’m not, Beast. I’m the person people gawk at whenever I run an errand, and they don’t do it out of admiration either. In fact,”

Lynsi adjusted her wheelchair and moved forward, unknowingly gazing at the silhouettes beyond the stage.

“I’m the person people use as an example for why euthanasia should exist. That’s what people think when they see me! They think: ‘Oh, I’d rather be put out of my misery than be anything like her!’ and then they fucking tell me—they fucking tell me…”

The audience pointed and said:

“Be uplifting! I want to be INSPIRED by you!”

The Beast jumped off the bed and kneeled down by Lynsi.

“Which is exactly why we should go. That’s exactly why. You’re not like everybody else…”

“Arrogant much?”

“It’s a literal fact. You’re not like other people. It’s not good, it’s not bad, it is what it is. You might as well go to the festival. Why not give it another shot?”

“I swear to god, Beast. You’re—you’re tricking me…”

“It’s not a trick if you’ll actually benefit from it. Come on, Lynsi.”

An audience member chimed in:

“Yeah, Lynsi, come on! Go to the festival!”

Another audience member agreed:

“Say those magic words, Lynsi! Come on! Just say: Yes!”

Rain began to drizzle down slowly from the stage ceiling. Roots sprouted from the cement floor and spread across. Lynsi looked to the stage wall behind her room. A large silhouette of a boy emerged from below, his shadowed image on the wall growing in size alongside the roots. He raised a knife above his head. Thunder roared. As the boy plunged his arm, he vanished.

Lynsi curled her fingers on top of her knees.

“I really did like that composition. Maybe I can…”

The Beast grinned widely.

“And we’ll be able to see Part Two! How’s that sound, huh?”

Lynsi allowed herself to smile.

“Fun.”

“That’s my girl! One moment!” He exited stage right. Lynsi shook her head and stared at her hands.

“What are you doing, Lynsi?” said an audience member. “You’re high! You shouldn’t go under this state!”

“You’ll make a fool of yourself, Lynsi! You won’t be able to stop the Beast! You can’t satisfy him!”

“They’ll be annoyed by him, Lynsi!” 

“You’re invisible, Lynsi! No one sees a person, just see a wheelchair!”

Lynsi inhaled sharply, shaking again. The orchestra picked up their instruments and played a slow arrangement in minor key. That familiar bass, those synths, those lyrics…all in the key it was meant to be played in.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” said Lynsi. “After all, I’m—I’m—a—I…”

She closed her eyes shut. All stage lights switched off.

The roots erupted upwards, coming together into spirals of oak that then branched in every direction. Fern green sprouted from these branches and became leaves, surrounding the audience in their growth.

Even though the Eldritch was still shrouded in dark, the ceiling above became less ceiling and more nightly atmosphere. One not only saw the stars above but could almost reach out to touch them.

A stage light flickered on and found a boy in the main aisle between the rows of red leather. Once it found him, the light switched off again. He squinted his emerald eyes, hoping to see action on the stage.

Lynsi wasn’t there. Neither was her room nor her Beast. Upon the stage in front of the boy, something suddenly came into being. A sight beyond comprehension. Between the lines of material and fantastical, opaque and translucent, this essence bathed its reflections unto everything within its reach. It first appeared as a cloak of golden light, but upon closer inspection, this light held within it formed and formless crystals, each of which that held their own hues of bright and dark reds, yellows, greens, and blues—among many other colors. To truly experience all this prismatic ocean had to offer, the boy knew he must relinquish the idea of having individualized form at all and become part of it, even if that seemed impossible.

This living paradox collided into form upon the stage even as it continued to expand in all directions, taking the shape of a castle. A castle with glass-like, reflective walls that stretched in parallel directions and curved into itself to possess the form of a center piece.

Rain sprinkled onto a dome atop the center, enhancing the beauty of the prismatic ocean cascading from the reflections. The castle took up all of the stage, as was in its nature, yet remained still.

The boy with emerald eyes knew there was no where to go but in. After all, he was lost. Didn’t even remember his own name. He took a step forward and then another, suddenly aware this prismatic ocean could feel as much as it could be perceived. It brought within him a rush of relaxed muscles, a peaceful contentment that beckoned him to come even nearer.

Lynsi opened her eyes and all was as it had been before. The orchestra continued to play the slow bass, the rising and falling arpeggio, the synths. Her composition couldn’t match the image in her mind.

As the orchestra crescendoed, she teared up and shook her head. No professional enjoyed the symphony of Jake, the center character of her composition.

“This isn’t gonna work.” She exhaled shakily. “I’m not tough. I’m not brave enough.”

The Beast returned joyously, with a pep in his step.

“Alrighty, I’ve made the arrangements! Are you ready?”

“I’ve—I’ve changed my mind again, Beast. I’m not sure…”

The Beast frowned and put his hands on his hips.

“Lynsi.”

“Beast.”

The Beast wrapped his furry arm around Lynsi’s neck and placed his hand tenderly on her blonde curls.

“Just give it a shot, Lynsi.”

“But I’m a fool.”

“My favorite kind.”

“I’m high.”

“Not high enough to stop thinking of yourself as worthless. Take another puff and let’s get going, yeah? Sides, our ride awaits us.”

Lynsi froze briefly. After a moment, she grabbed her dab pen, inhaled as much yellow vapor as she could, and rolled over to stage left.

Two masked men dressed in all black emerged from behind the curtain and pushed a wheeled, wooden dresser onto the stage. One quickly exited while the other remained, pushing his hands into his pockets as though searching for one last item.

Lynsi pulled out a beanie, a black hoodie, and fake glasses from the dresser, unaware of the man in front of her still searching his pockets.

“Fine, but I’m covering up.” She tucked her blonde curls under the beanie and zipped the hoodie around her top. She put on the fake glasses and pulled the hood over the beanie. “Oh yes!”

The covered-up man pulled out a black face mask from his pocket and tossed it into Lynsi’s lap. With a kick, the covered man followed his companion off stage.

Lynsi grabbed the mask and wrapped its strings around her ears. She lifted the soft fabric and pulled it over the bridge of her nose.

“Seriously?!” The Beast rose his arms and tilted his head.

“I’m only going under this condition.”

“Fine.” The Beast sighed. “I mean, I don’t know how you’re going to be able to really interact with anyone like that, but—agh—whatever!”

The Beast faced the audience and walked over to the orchestra below the stage. He peered down at them and smiled.

“Get those trumpets ready, assholes.”

“Yes, sir!” said a trumpet player. A few others tooted their trumpets in major key.

The Beast looked up and leaned forward, outstretching his arms.

“Behold! The most amazing, brilliant, wondrous creation of all time!” The Beast faced up and rose his hands skyward.

A section of the orchestra lifted their trumpets, as instructed by the Composer, and played the first seventeen seconds of William Tell Overture. As trumpets bellowed, a mechanical horse on chains descended from the stage ceiling and blessed the audience with its glorious, rustless steel.  

The orchestra paused and lowered their trumpets.

The Beast gestured at the Mechanical Horse.

“Ta-daaaaa! You like my horse, Lynsi?”

“I am not horse.” said the Mechanical Horse, its voice thick with an Eastern European accent.

“What the fuck did you do, Beast?!” Lynsi reared back, eyeing the tilt and sway of the Mechanical Horse’s neck.

“I got us a horse!”

“I am NOT horse!” the Mechanical Horse corrected again. “I was feeding delicious worms to fledglings and plotting to kill imposter child when I was ensnared by…”

“Okay!” The Beast stepped in between Lynsi and the Mechanical Horse. “No. No, this—this right here is a perfectly normal transportation vehicle, Lynsi. It’s most certainly not a bird fused inside a horse.”

“I AM NOT HORSE!”

“BEAST!” Lynsi cried. “Wha—wh…”

“Okay, so maybe it is, but it’s still a perfectly good means of transport.”

Lynsi wheeled over to the Mechanical Horse.

“Why would you fuse a bird’s consciousness inside of a horse?!”

“So we could go the festival, Lynsi!”

“So…I am not bird?” asked the Mechanical Horse.

“No,” said Lynsi softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why my Beast did that you.”

“IT’S FOR THE FESTIVAL, LYNSI!” The Beast screamed.

“SHUT UP, I’M TALKING TO THE—Uh—HORSE-BIRD-THING!”

“I AM NOT HORSE!” the Mechanical Horse shook its mane. “…I am neither bird. I—I…”

The Mechanical Horse paused, looking up at the audience in front.

“I…am Birhor. And Birhor must fly.”

“Like a Pegasus?” asked Lynsi.

“No,” said Birhor. “Like Birhor. Now, Birhor will take you to festival, but after, Birhor must actualize the fullness of Birhor. You understand.”

“Shuddup, Birhor,” said the Beast. He faced Lynsi. “Anyway, hop on, Lynsi.”

Lynsi crossed her arms and dipped her chin downward in the direction of her paralyzed legs.

The Beast lifted a defiant index finger before grabbing Birhor’s saddle. He pulled it up at a ninety-degree angle and stepped back. The saddle sprung outward and reshaped itself into a chair.

“See?” said the Beast. “I made sure it was accessible. Now come on.”

The Beast gently put his hands under Lynsi’s arms and lifted her off her power wheelchair, placing her into the saddle-chair attached to Birhor. Once he buckled her in and made certain she wouldn’t slip out from under the harness, the Beast hopped onto Birhor’s back.

“Ow!” said Birhor. “You fat Beast!”

The Beast swatted Birhor’s belly with his legs.

“Now’s not the time for compliments! Fly, Birhor! The festival awaits!”

The orchestra began its rendition of William Tell Overture once more.