McKenzie: a novel and incantation

At night, Paulina’s ghost came and sat a while, chin on her rough linen dress, on the floor of the theater. She watched as the wooden framework of the set grew up around her, until one Tuesday night the actors would take the stage for rehearsals, when the world of the play would blossom and she could live among men for a time.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and a girl slipped into the theater, breathing fast. The red Exit sign lit up a pale, afraid face as she turned to face the door.

“Hermione?” gasped Paulina as she hurried toward her, and forgetting she was intangible, her hand slipped through the girl’s shoulder. The door rattled.

She heard boys laughing coarsely outside, “C’mon, Tyler, get your a** in there!”

The girl didn’t move. Did she remember there was a back door, that she could run for it, and try to make it into the woods? A blank resignation started to drip into her face. The door opened.

But the instant she heard it, she straightened up as if struck by lightning, eyes sparking in fierce defiance. Paulina, again inconsequentially, ran to stop the intruder. But the door swung shut. The boys remained outside, unseen, and in a minute their voices receded like crows into the night.

She stayed standing there, hands continuing to shake. She slid her back down the wall til she sat on the floor, her thoughts a roaring whirlpool. She had to figure out, now, how to fix what was happening to her. She had thought she could wait out Tyler, that he would eventually get the message, but if he had brought Narcissus and Edmund into it…

Paulina leant her head on the girl’s shoulder. Maybe she had an effect this time.

Her name was Anastasia. Though to Paulina, she was her character in the play: Hermione, the queen who was betrayed by those whose duty it was to love her best.

“Maybe I could tell Ellis. He’d know how to help. No, that’s crazy!”

_

In the AM following that evening, on the opposite edge of town, a red light was blinking on and off. From the highway a (caffeinated) observer could have made out a satellite dish, whirring slowly to face an unknown target in the starless sky.

The teenager who owned this satellite dish, who was sending it signals to make minute adjustments keeping it aimed at the fourth planet from our Sun, was close to banging his head against his keyboard. Ellis Lunsford stopped. At the same moment, memories from today, last month and his whole year snuck their way back into his consciousness. Ellis didn’t complain to anyone, but there was something wrong with him, how he acted. Something to explain the monotonous repetition of his life, which felt as gray as tomorrow morning’s sky and had the smell of a lightbulb which had burned out.

He thought of Emi, and instantly snapped back to reality. The one thing he could do, he thought, was to finish this project.

But people aren’t machines: we can’t live if we think purely in terms of projects to complete. And in reality, Ellis was a good deal less alone than he felt: his friends, who would have cared nothing for his project if they had known about it, were of the right stuff, and I think it was Ellis’ fault for not paying them more attention. He would have to learn how to.

On the edge of McKenzie, Texas, a satellite dish received the command to shut down for the night. It’s darkest before the dawn, according to legend, but right now was the abyss following midnight.

I'm in the process of writing a novel, but Chapter II will be a while lol. I would love any critiques/tips anyone has :)