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Fly away, little birdie,

fly far into the sky!

Balance.

They're everywhere.

Dead rats.

Mauled,

as if by a dog.
 

But I know who did this.

It's him.

Cheshire.

These -

these cuts

they can only be from his sword.

The sword in his cane.

The one he used to

to

well, you know.

Every day,

another dead rat,

eviscerated,

disemboweled,

at my doorstep.

I thought it was Sierra or Mab at first -

they are cats, after all.

But the consistency and the nature of their injuries...

He has no remorse.

Cheshire was sweet when I knew him,

when he was still Lewis Jacobs Lyman.

When he was still my Jack.

Jack wouldn't do this.

Jack would try to nurse them back to health,

no matter how bad they looked.

Jack would have given them a proper funeral,

and I would have been right by his side.

I'm scared, yes.

But I'm also strong.

I don't have to let fear consume me.

Into the gala, now's the time

We're ready and we look divine

Sursum corda et surgam

Watching,

waiting,

wondering.

Balance.

I see him there.

He follows me.

Cheshire will not go away.

He knows I'm afraid.

He knows I don't want him to hurt me.

But what he doesn't know

is that I have the power

to overcome fear.

I know he's going to try again tomorrow,

or maybe even later today.

But this time,

I'm ready.

He won't hurt me.

I have Sierra.

I have Mab.

I have you.

And as much as I'd hate to hurt him,

I also have a can of pepper spray

and a taser.

Hopefully,

it won't come to that.

I don't believe in such things as lost causes.

They may exist,

but I don't believe in them.

I have a story.

One day,

a reporter is visiting Albert Einstein's home.

She notices that,

over the doorway,

there is an upturned horseshoe.

But surely you don't believe in luck, do you?

she asks.

Of course not,

scoffs Einstein.

Then why do you have a horseshoe on your doorway?

presses the reporter.

Because it works whether you believe it or not,

he says.

You may not believe

that there is good in everyone.

Cheshire may not believe

that he can lose.

He may not believe

that with my friends

I can beat him.

He may not believe

that I can draw a circle

and take him in.

But that doesn't matter.

Because I can.

Stamp on the ground, jump, jump, jump, jump

Move it all around, jumpin' all around

Explanation

His name was Lewis Jacobs Lyman.

He loved nothing more than Alice in Wonderland,

The Wizard of Oz,

The Chronicles of Narnia,

and The Lion King.

One year ago,

we met at an audition for a play.

He was funny,

cute,

and he really made me feel balanced.

It didn't take long for that to go away.

Three months after we had met,

he left.

He told me it was over,

and disappeared.

My strongest memory of him

from those days

is the smile he always wore.

The smile he would flash at passerby on the street,

the smile that immediately brightens your day.

The smile that

that haunts me in my dreams, now.

In my nightmares.

It was hard for a while,

living without him.

But I managed.

I had friends to help me through it.

He showed up at my flat the day after I saw him again.

He was prepared. He was alone,

but prepared.

I was unconscious before I realized it was the same man I had seen in the theater.

In his cruelty,

he was almost kind,

tender,

loving.

Then he gave me the notebook

the

I still have it.

I don't want it,

but I'm going to keep it.

In case I may need it again.

Then he gave me the notebook.

He told me to write in it.

I didn't want to.

So he took my finger.

And I wrote for all I was worth.

And then

The days after are a blur until today, I

I woke up in the small place Sir Thighpiece had rented.

He was sitting there, by the small cot,

looking as if he hadn't slept in days.

(From what he says, he hasn't slept in a long time.)

His dog, too,

Rocinante,

she's ever so sweet.

And she gets along wonderfully with Sierra and Mab.

Speaking of whom,

they are both fine.

A neighbor watched over them while I was

while I was

away.

I'm

I'm okay.

I'm getting better.

I'll be on my feet tomorrow, and then

then I'll be ready to smile again.

I hope.

He told me one last thing, before Sir Thighpiece showed up

He reminded me

He reminded me of the cat

Curiosity killed the cat

Satisfaction brought it back

He warned me

"Eight left,"

he said

but I'll make it through.

I have Sierra.

I have Mab.

I have my friends.

I have you,

whoever you are, reading.
This is me:
Kathleen Schrödinger.
That is me.
That's me.
no it's not
is it?

I'm a thousand miles away, but girl,

Tonight you look so pretty, yes, you do

Qui tacet consentit

One two three four -

we will walk right through that door!

Five six seven eight -

who do we appreciate?

Balance.

Sierra is growing so fast.

He's much better now

than he was when I found him.

And he and Mab are so cute when they play.

I'm so glad I could help them.

Also,

at rehearsal today,

I saw a man in the audience.

I couldn't make out his face,

since he was sitting way in the back,

in the dark.

I don't think anyone else noticed him.

He didn't say anything,

he didn't wave when I did,

and by the time we were done and leaving,

he had gone.

The way he walked

seemed almost familiar.

Almost doglike.

But I only saw it for a moment,

as the tails of his coat

swished out the door.

I was so intrigued,

I checked the security footage.

He only showed up for a few seconds,

and seemed out of place.

In fact,

he seemed like he belonged in the play.

The way he moved,

it was almost as if

he wanted me to memorize what he looked like.

Well, I did.

A long tailcoat,

and pants so dark

you couldn't see the creases.

A dark bow-tie,

and a top hat,

with something tucked into the ribbon.

He even had a monocle

 and cane,

and a thick, gold pocket-watch and chain.

The strangest thing about him

was that he had a cigar in his mouth,

but not lit -

he was just chewing on it.

He was a bit heavy-looking,

but mostly very athletic-looking.

Then he tipped his hat to the camera,

and disappeared.

I asked some of the other cast members

if they knew anyone like that.

Something was bugging me.

I knew him.

The way he walked,

the way he moved,

even the way he stood.

The next time I see him,

I won't wait.

I'll rush after him.

I'll remember who he is.

Maybe

I'll even get an outfit like his.

It was simply fabulous.

I loved it.

Are they wondering what we might be?

Are they thinking of you or of me?

Non omnis moriar

Saw it coming, hm?

Never saw...

THIS!

Ha ha!

Balance.

Spirits have been lifted for now,

so let's delve into my box of a life!

A few days ago, I went to the park.

As I sat there on the bench,

with that glorious sunlight on my face,

I heard a mewl from behind me.

In the bushes was this little kitten!

I've had lots of cats,

all of whom I've loved very much,

but I've always ended up giving them to the little ones

who need them more than I do.

But this was different.

This little kitten needed me.

I scrambled over to her and scooped her off the ground.

She's not very old at all. Not more than two or three months.

As soon as I picked her up, she stopped crying.

Then, she glared over at the bush again,

and I heard another sound,

another kitten,

much fainter and much sadder.

I set the first one down for a moment and crawled into the bushes,

and there was another, like I thought,

even smaller and more fragile-looking than the first.

His whimper nearly made me cry and bawl, but I gently took him out of the bush,

and saw how hurt he was.

One of his eyes is shut and scarred,

and the other is only ever half-open.

He's missing part of one ear,

and his coat is ragged,

his tail almost completely bare.

He's about as old as she is,

so I think they may be siblings,

but it's hard to be sure about these things.

I took them both home and washed them and fed them,

then brought them to a veterinarian for a check-up.

Besides his injuries, they're fine.

I haven't decided what to call them yet

(I was thinking George and Martha

or Fang and Lamb

or maybe Fange and Mamb?),

but rest assured they're in good care.

And if they don't dance, well

they're no friends of mine