Koda — Roleplayer Guild

Margaret sat outside. It was lunch time, and sitting in the cafeteria with all those people made her head spin. It was simply too loud; she couldn’t think. Spearing a pasta noodle with her fork, she looked at it before popping it into her mouth. She chewed the rubber-like noodle. While the school claimed to serve real foods, Margaret bet that was nothing but a filthy lie. She couldn’t really prove it nor did she really care. Food was food after all. No need to go mouthing off to the poor slob who controlled the budget. Maybe packing lunches was the way go. No ambiguity there she supposed.

Taking a drink from her chocolate milk, Margaret flipped to the next page of her book. It was a book about contemporary monsters. Anything related to creatures or monsters always found a special place in her heart. It was her most treasured passion, and Margaret was hardly secretive about it. Her father was the one to introduce the addiction to her. When she was younger, he told her about the forest fairies. Every night - among the trees, plants, and foliage - they’d come out to light the way for the lost traveler. While they guided people home, they protected children from what resided in the shadows. Margaret knew now that the forest fairies were actually fireflies, but it didn’t change the spark nurtured by her dad.

She wanted to create monsters. Give them a name, a shape, and share it with people wherever she could. From the most grotesque to the cute. The world of the imagination was her playground for her specialty. Luckily, there was an industry where she could express her passion. The media industry be it video games, movies, or TV. 

From whatever work she could find, Margaret was saving for college and equipment she needed. The pencil and paper was all she had, but digital art was the next step. However from what she saw, the programs and the drawing pad were expensive as all sin. Getting the money wasn’t hard however. Step douche and mom was a treasure trove she could tap into. However, she didn’t want anything to do with them. It was tempting at times, but she resisted.

Carter - her step dad - was nice enough. Mom met him through a friend. They hit it off from there. Going on a couple of dates, they eventually married and moved in together. It was the only reason she lived in a middle-class suburb. Even going to a decent enough school district. Carter tried his best to be her best friend, but Margaret didn’t want that. Whatever guy mom wanted to sleep, marry, or hit it off with was fine. There was only one person she considered her true best friend, and he returned to the Earth a long time ago. The potential scholarship for her academics was her only way out of this place. Margaret was ready to leave her old life behind and move on.

“You’re spacing again Maggie.” Margaret looked up. Rachel took the seat opposing her as she toyed with the same pasta Margaret thought to be rubber. Rachel looked at the book. “The zombie, eh? You know, you could just watch ‘The Walking Dead’ or ‘28 Days Later’. Don’t watch ‘28 Weeks Later’ though. It’s a sham. A disappoint.”

Rachel. She was one of the few people Margaret wasn’t a complete bitch to. The blonde got her, in a manner of speaking. She had the geekiness and the cunning to keep Margaret on her toes. There was hardly a dull moment with Rachel, but even she had her drawbacks. Margaret tried not to dwell on that too much. Everyone had their shortcomings. Rachel just happened to have some that didn’t really matter to Margaret too much.

“Rot my brain with that mush? Rachel, you know I don’t partake. Well, maybe in moderation,” she said. “By the way, Brad. You going to make a move?”

Rachel rose an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“He looks serious. He wants you. Well, in your pants at least.”

“If you had the chance to date a douche, would you?”

Margaret smirked as she finished off her chocolate milk. “Do cats dream of sour milk?”

“Would a cat rather have no milk?”

Margaret laughed. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Only if you stop being one yourself,” Rachel said as she winked at the brunette. “Say, you still looking for photo shop and stuff?”

Trying not to scoff, Margaret managed half a scoff. “A legitimate copy, yes. I learned pretty early on that pirated copies are a complete waste of time,” she said. “Got a beautiful virus instead. You know what I had to use as an excuse?”

“Smutty websites?”

“Smutty websites,” Margaret said a matter a factly. “Step douche and mom tried to get details. I told them it was girl on girl action.” Rachel’s face blushed as Margaret sighed to herself. “Before you ask, I had to give them an excuse. I thought the ladies would be easier to sell them on.”

Rachel took another bite from her lunch tray. “You know how you rarely mean what you say?”

The brunette tipped her head to the side. “Do you know how complicated and stupid that just sounded?”

Her friend waved her hand as she sipped on her orange juice. “Okay, psychology speak incoming. Surface meaning and deeper meaning,” Rachel said. “I call it Maggie’s Law. Whenever a deeper meaning can be applied to what you say, well, there’s a hidden meaning.”

Margaret pursed her lips. “So about the photoshop. Details. Give them to me.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Indeed I am. Now the photoshop stuff.”

Watching Rachel reach into her bookbag, seeing a physical, unopened copy of adobe full suite edition in Rachel’s hands was the last thing Margaret was expecting. Unable to mask her desire to reach out and run off with it into the sunset, Margaret tapped her fingers against the table. “How much do you want for it? I can give you what I have now and the rest later. Ask for interest, I'll slap you silly."

“It was your birthday a month ago, and I was sick.”

“And I told you it’s all good.”

Rachel nodded as she slid the adobe program over. “Happy late birthday, Maggie.”

At a loss for words, Margaret picked up the program she’d been saving forever to pick up herself. Better than the one she was going to pick up. Only being able to afford photoshop and illustrator, she had everything. The latest edition too. Treating the box like the Holy Grail itself, Margaret flipped it over to the back to see all the bells and whistles she was getting. It was time to expand her YouTube tutorial search.

She looked back at Rachel. “This is too much, Rachel,” she said. “This must’ve cost you a fortune!”

Rachel shrugged. “It did cost a bit, but kind of worth it. You don’t smile that often, Mags. Plus, that gleeful face thing you just did? Massive cutie points,” Rachel said. “You don’t ask for anything. I wanted to give you something. Other than my awesome friendship of course. That I don’t give away lightly, mind you. But seriously, I’ve seen your stuff. You better not forget me when you’re drawing for the big leagues. Name a monster after me?”

Margaret laughed as she careful placed the Adobe box into her bag. “You want a monster named after you? Careful what you wish for, Rach.” Closing her book, she crossed her legs. “So you think I’m a cutie?”

The blonde chuckled. “That expression was cute. You on the other hand? Work in progress.”

Margaret feigned hurt. “Low blow to my confidence. Not cool,” she said. Margaret reached over the table as she rested a hand on top of Rachel’s. “Rach? Seriously. Thanks a million babe. You want a monster named after you? I’ll make it happen. I’ll make it as grotesque as possible.”

Rachel gased. “Jerk!”

Margaret showed off her pearly whites. “Softy.”

Once again, she was broke. Having installed all the Adobe programs, Margaret carefully set up the tablet she bought from Best Buy. It was well into the evening, and her homework was all done. Sitting comfortably in a pair of guy’s boxers and an oversized grey ‘Angels & Airwaves’ shirt, her hands were busy as they sketched her rendition of Frankenstein. It was a warm up before giving the tablet and the programs a run on her Mac. Kind of like the appetizer before the main course. One had to wet the palette to get in the mood. 

Finishing up the sketch, Margaret pursed her lips as she critiqued her work. It was decent, not her best however. Uncrossing her legs, she got off her bean bag and went to her desk. Remembering the numerous tutorials she'd watched, Margaret booted up Photoshop and clicked to open a sketch of medusa she scanned in at school. She began to play with various features as she began to add color to her sketch. Chopin was playing in the background. Margaret was in the zone.

Stopping when she finished coloring in the torso area, Margaret pulled up a video talking about shading in digital art. It was an unusual transition that definitely needed work on her part. Unlike the traditional pencil and paper, Margaret had to rely on the white to black scale to make the shading instead of blending. While she wished to stay traditional, she had an industry to break into. Unfortunately for her, said industry required digital art. She was even learning to use Maya - a 3D animation program - on the side. That was definitely still a work in progress. It wasn’t too mainstream yet, but that was the future trend of art. Actual moving models that had depth to them. In the media industry anyhow.

Blocking out the rest of the world, it was only when her mother tapped her shoulder did she realize someone had entered her sanctuary. Looking up from her drawing on the tablet, she met her mother’s eyes. “I’m kinda busy.”

Beth frowned as she sat on the edge of Margaret’s table. “Nice drawing kiddo.”

“Thanks.”

“We should talk.”

Margaret sighed. There was always something to talk about, and she was getting sick of it. She already knew the topic. “Does it have anything to do with Carter?”

“That obvious huh?”

“He’s the only person you talk about. You never talk about dad anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Mags.”

Feeling the dragon roar and coil within her gut, Margaret placed the tablet on the table. She turned her chair so she was facing her mom full on. “What do you want from me, mom? Want me to call Carter dad? You know that’s not going to happen. You want me to play nice? I am by not calling him step-douche to his face. Maybe some bonding? I’m busy. I work when I’m not at school or doing,” Margaret gestured to her artwork, “this. I’d love to bond, but I have better things to do. So enjoy your life. I’m trying to sort mine out.”

Silence prevailed in the room as mother and daughter stared at each other. Margaret hated being mean to the woman who raised her, but after the accident, all she felt towards the woman was ... repulsion. At least when dad was around, he knew what to say. What to do. He even made the recovery from her surgery bearable without painkillers. How does someone do that? Ever since he died, nothing seemed bearable to Margaret when she was around her new ‘family’. 

“You’re not happy?” Beth said finally. “You’re not the only one who lost something, Mags. You’re not. I just moved forward. You have to do the same.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Margaret snapped back. “As long as I’m here, I feel stuck with nowhere to go. I-” Margaret stopped talking as she thought about what to say. She mulled over the words, some hurtful some not. Exhaling deeply, she turned back to her computer. “I’m tired. Can we talk about this later?”

Though Beth seemed like she wanted to say something further, Margaret’s mom made her way to the door. “I’m sorry you feel that way Mags,” she said. “Good night.”

When the door closed, Margaret stared at the door. Once again, she was left in sweet beautiful silence. She felt her eyes wettened at the edges.

“Maybe she was trying, you know, to try and work things out?” Rachel said as the two walked down the sidewalk. “You’re not really helping either, Mags.”

Pulling at her plain orange long sleeve, Margaret pushed her phone further into her jean pocket.

Needing to talk to somebody, Margaret told the only person she really trusted. Rachel. Sage advice wasn’t the goal, but Margaret received it anyway. What her friend said wasn’t anything new. Margaret already knew her mom wanted to mend their broken relationship. She just didn’t want anything mended. What really miffed her the most was how mom didn’t talk about dad anymore. She was so cavalier about it - or just really good at acting like it was no big deal. And Carter. He tried to hard. It all just seemed so forced.

The two stopped at a crosswalk. “Can we just drop it?”

“You always do that, Mags! Whenever you don’t like something, you always simply ‘drop it’.”

“There’s nothing to talk about! I’m angry at my mom. I hate my step-dad. I’m being a spoiled bitch!” Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose. She hated getting angry at Rachel. Just her. Though her ice queen persona was very well known throughout the school, she didn’t want to lose her only friend. Her only best friend. “Just … just please Rachel? It’s Friday. It’s the weekend.” Margaret wrapped her arm around the blonde. “I just want to go to the mall with my bestie. Right? Let's go splurge - within reason. I could use a new pair of jeans. Oh, maybe stop by the art store.”

Feeling the mood descalate, Margaret was relieved to hear Rachel laugh. “Fine. But we’re not done with this,” she said. “Shopping, totally! Art store? Maybe not.”

Margaret feigned disappointment as she slapped her friend’s arm playfully. “Don’t make me beg.”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Would you beg?”

“No.”

Smirking over at her friend, Margaret heard the buzz as the walk sign turned green. Leading the way across the busy street, she heard Rachel scream her name. The words never made it out. she felt weightless as her world tumbled in a quagmire of cement, buildings, and a blur of colors. There were voices, but comprehension failed her. 

Closing her eyes, Margaret tumbled into a surprisingly sweet darkness.

How long had she been in this cold, still place?

Margaret was conscious, but not the type of consciousness she had when she was awake and moving about. It was solemn. Solitude away from the atrocities of life. Maybe it was her time to reflect? To have an epiphany. 

Disoriented, she looked about as she saw shimmering lights pass her by. Each little shimmer reminded her of the astronomy pictures she saw on the space website she often frequented. There was a time she wanted to be an astronaut. To brave the vastness of space. It was a phase she grew out of quickly, but the captive beauty of space never left her. Among the things she was saving for, a telescope was on her list. Just for a while, she wanted to get lost in the celestial body above. An insignificant speck in the universe. Even now, Margaret didn’t know why that brought her comfort.

About to call out to the shimmers, Margaret covered her eyes as light expelled the shadows and hugged every inch of her. It was surreal. It was warm yet comforting. Turning her eyes to gaze into its glory, why her eyes didn’t burn out was beyond her. Soon, a longing filled her body. Something was calling for her. Specifically her. She didn’t know what, but there was one thing she was sure of. She wanted to know whatever beckoned for her. It felt as if she didn’t grasp for the entity now, she’d be lost forever. That sense of loss scared her beyond anything else at that moment.

Clawing and running to the light, Margaret reached for it. A hard yank jerked her body forward. Laughing from the vertigo, she fell into the light.

What Margaret saw next was not what she expected. Even in her craziest of dreams. Maybe if she actually did drugs, she'd be able to understand ... this.

A towering building rested before her. It was oriental in nature, something that resembled Ancient China. What period? Margaret couldn’t recall. It was a shame she didn’t prioritize history in her repertoire of classes. The movie Mulan had similar architecture, which gave her something to work with. However, how accurate was a cartoon representation of a legend? Not very she figured.

Taking a look around, Margaret felt her jaw dropped as she soaked in the crowd she’d found herself in. There must have been hundreds. The rational part of her mind shut down as she stared at them dumbly. 

Something tickled the edges of her vision, Margaret looked down as she stood on a elaborate looking circle. If she wasn’t losing her mind on the current situation, she’d be marveling the details of the circle. An artist of great repute had to be the creator of such a masterpiece. Tracing the lines with her eyes, she stopped her perusing abruptly. Was this a dream? Was she lucid dreaming? What was she doing before all this? She was going to the mall with Rachel. She was crossing the street-

The memory played back in perfect detail. The car was coming straight at her. She didn’t have time to react. Rachel was calling her name. Margaret wasn’t sure why. Then the impact. She screamed as she recoiled from the memory only to feel nothing. Receiving a few startled looks from the audience - as well as guarded ones - Margaret felt her breathing quicken. Where was her heartbeat? Her heartbeat always kicked up a few machs when she was nervous. In that moment, she felt nothing. Something was missing. Fear. In fact, why did she scream? Instinct? Habit?

Looking around yet again, Margaret saw a oriental girl standing before her, fixing her gaze on the stranger, she took a few steps forward until she stood before the girl. “Where am I? Who are you?” That was what she intended to say, but her words were nothing but airy rasps and moans. Bringing a hand to her throat, Margaret stopped her limb just short of her neck as she looked at it. She was pale to begin with, but this pale reminded her off death. It was the shade of marble. Humans didn’t look like that.

Her eyes fixed on the girl yet again. As she stared, something foreign slowly bubbled up to the surface. It was odd. It was hunger, but Margaret wasn’t craving food. She was craving something else. Something that would’ve made her stomach lurch forward and purge its contents.

Human flesh. She wanted human flesh. Licking her lips, she fought the impulse of fastening her teeth onto the girl’s neck. Was she her age? Margaret didn’t know. What did it matter? Food was food.

Clenching her fists, she continued to fight the urge. “Where am I? What happened to me?”

Again, all that came out was rasps and moans. Growling to herself, Margaret finally noticed the figure behind the curtain. She pointed at it. “Does it know?”

Again, her speech was inhuman. She felt frustration inflame her senses. She knew the feeling all too well. Anger. Her best, worst friend.
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