Poppy

This is a bit of an insert story from Carousel. It wraps up the sequence bit towards the end.

Poppy

Every morning was a routine. For Poppy, routine was gateway for an adventure. When the day star hit the horizon it was time for movement. The girl was ready to begin buzzing as fast as she could. Her vision was very poor aside from her bedroom being deprived of light. It was tight to move around in her cubby of a bedroom but she made do to manage. Twisting and turning in the tight space seemed to deform Poppy in the long run but in truth she didn’t care. Bustling and stumbling to and fro, from closet, to window, to bed, Poppy kicked up a layer of dust. Eventually she would sit down until she recovered from a coughing fit. She wasn’t very talented at breathing but managed to get by with the task.  

Putting on the tight and complicated dresses of little girls was very painful for Poppy. She thought that whoever invented zippers up the back was an idiot. The side was one thing. But the back? Ludicrous. Before continuing down the narrow and concrete stairwell, Poppy often needed a rest. She did not have the stamina of other children. The frail Poppy always found herself indisposed and had to stay indoors. When she could go out and enjoy herself, she handed wisteria to her friends and other passerby children. In fact, that was her goal for today.

Poppy was a treasure to the neighborhood. When she emerged from her run down rowhome it was a new ray of sunshine to the street. Regardless of the conditions inside of her home Poppy stayed neat, clean, and well-maintained. Poppy’s health never allowed her to stray too far from her front door. Sometimes she liked to be a real dare-devil and go to the corner of the street unattended. Would she make it back home? Who knows? That’s Poppy. Really living on the edge.

Going to the street corner used to be a fun thing for Poppy. More wisteria got passed out that way. However, going to the corner of the street was how Poppy found out that her feelings were just as fragile as her body. An urchin decided to lay into her. Poppy wasn’t used to ill manners, rudeness or anyone being a jackass in general. Not knowing how to react, she cried.
This already frail creature pitifully buckled over on the sidewalk and her eyes turned into faucets. The razor edged words of the urchin cut her fragile skin so deep, one could almost see her blood spill onto the sidewalk. His thorny syllables pierced her mind and put it through a mental hemorrhage.

Poppy quickly changed from a radiant beam of happiness to a lump of disheveled curls, frill and stocking. Some bystanders were quick to come her aid until they noticed her alabaster tears. This drew a different crowd who continued where the urchin stopped. They provoked such a fit with the girl until it appeared that she was crying over spilled milk. They took what they needed from her glass for their euphoric vampirism and moved on.
Poppy was left to clean the mess that was herself, including the dried tar-like tears from her face.

Poppy was never much of a crybaby until that incident. In fact, the only times she cried was during times of fever or malady.
Poppy tried to resume her daily adventure of spreading wisteria to the general public. She spent the entire day picking them herself. Surprisingly, Poppy’s parents did not seem to care about her playing in a garden full of poisonous flowers. The next day, Poppy stood on the corner with the best flowers she could find.  A few flowers were passed out before the same rowdy bunch who scored her the last time came past her corner again. Words were exchanged, and for a second, devastating time, Poppy was on the ground crying alabaster tears. The people stayed long enough to get their high from the poor girl’s crying and departed.

Poppy eventually rose to her feet and wiped the tar-tears from her face. She wasn’t too sure how she was upright since her body was numb. Regardless, one by one, she began to shove wisteria flowers into her mouth and eat them. No one on the street cared and her parents didn’t notice that she wasn’t home, let alone on the corner. When she began to feel ill, she crossed her fingers and dropped to the ground.

Elsewhere

Timekeeper barged in on Death at the piano. He hit a few sour notes in protest and sat stiff.
He waved Timekeeper away. “I’m not present!”
“You really ought to see this.”
Death resumed playing. “Let them play Balance Beam for a little bit, I’m almost done.”
Timekeeper sighed. “How do you feel about small children dropping dead in the street?”
Death shrugged. “It happens all the time.”
“Committing suicide?”
Death was silent.
“Do you still think it happens all of the time?”
Death’s piano playing stopped. “I didn’t say that I liked it. But it comes with the job. ‘Life is short, and shortly it will end. Death comes quickly and respects no one. Death destroys everything and takes pity on no one.’” Then it resumed.
Timekeeper folded his arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t matter who’s dying right now. I want to finish my concerto even if pressing matters do rattle my bones. At the end of the day everyone comes home to me. It just depends how long their song lasts.”
Timekeeper began to lose his patience. “Is a small child being swung around by opium fair?”
Death stared at his piano keys. “You can’t dance and multitask.”
“Death!”
He slowly rose to his feet. “I’ll investigate.”

A Busy Township

Everything had gone black for Poppy. She had been lying on the pavement for what felt like days on end. People could be heard chattering but she could not call for help. Citizens walked past her for to them she was just “another one”. She never wasted a thought calling for mommy or daddy. She hardly knew their faces anyway, just the backs of their heads. While in this alabaster purgatory she cried an unfamiliar tear, one of sorrow. One of despair and tragedy.

While Poppy laid silently and still in turmoil, Death approached with Timekeeper. Timekeeper could hardly look at Poppy while Death hoovered over her and even prodded at her a bit.
“You couldn’t solve this yourself when you saw her?” Death kept examining the child.
Poppy nearly went into shock when she felt his cold and bony hands gripping her.
Timekeeper shook his head. “This isn’t my line of work. I deal with the cycle of life, not cleaning up the mess.”
Death carelessly dropped Poppy’s arm. “She isn’t even dead! Dial her clock back and put her back in a place before her cycle deviated to… whatever this is.”
“I calculated her position, it would not have been the wisest choice. Her cycle isn’t one that deviated from the original route. It was en route here.”
Death stared at Poppy. “You’re telling me someone did this to her? Not some childhood accident that led to this situation? This was spoon-fed?”
Timekeeper nodded. “Essentially yes.”
“Leave her like this. Slow down her clock. Eventually I will come back for her. As long as she doesn’t move and stay in a state of sopor she should recover a little. I’ve never seen a child eat wisteria like this. This was a bizarre suicide attempt.”
Timekeeper stayed in melancholy shock and didn’t breathe a word.
“Arrange for her to be moved into her bed. Get one of her parents. Provoke them to be responsible for once.” Death began to dissipate back where he belonged. “I’ve had enough of this foolishness for one day.”
Timekeeper was left with Poppy who heard every word.

In Her Claustrophobic Cubby

 Poppy laid in her bed for what seemed like months. Between hours of shallow breathing, she was fed concoctions of food and medicine. Nothing was solid, and she was too indisposed to have a sense of taste.

Her hobby of spreading wisteria was replaced with descending into paralyzing depression. Her mind was rattled with her ten minute encounter with who she was sure was the Grim Reaper. Grim Reaper, the hooded man who carried a garden blade over his shoulder and stole the souls of the dying. She felt his hand and heard his rather agitated voice. Something he said shook the sleeping child almost constantly: “Eventually I will come back for her.” Poppy was well aware that Grim Reaper and whoever else was with him saved her for only so long. Poppy also knew that deep down inside she took her repressed melancholy too far. These thoughts provoked unfamiliar tears that began to roll down her cheeks to the point where she cried a cup of water that her feeble hands could not hold.

Close family worried about Poppy’s life. Her alabaster tears continued alongside the unfamiliar ones. During her sopor her mind hemorrhaged with nightmares and anxieties of Grim Reaper’s return. Poppy wanted to twist and writhe but being almost comatose and drugged to complement such a state, she could neither move a muscle nor twitch a nerve. Her mental state deteriorated her physical state and vice versa.
Months passed before the underlying malady from the wisteria finally subsided. However, Poppy’s mind was shot. The ray of sunshine was overcast and eclipsed. What was slow moving was now unmoving. Her bright eyes now glowed dull. Her bronze skin faded gray and seemed to turn pale. The chaotic realm of the little girl’s mind projected into the physical realm and she began to deteriorate all over again.

Poppy had enough energy to move somewhere one last time. The concrete box that she called a bedroom would not be her coffin. If Poppy’s memory served her right, the carnival was in town.

Carousel Deux

Poppy was not a midday girl. She crossed her fingers that when she rose the next morning she would not meet two empty eye sockets to the face. Her wishes were granted. Poppy was up before the sun to get dressed. She could not spring about like she used to. The buzzing bee Poppy no longer existed. Regardless of each breath being numbered and today surely being her last, Poppy made it out of her front door literally casket sharp with her best black dress, white tights, Mary Jane’s and lace hair bow. She even found an old pair of gloves. Since this was a special occasion, she took her parasol. Deep down inside, she didn’t want anyone to see her face while she died.

The carnival was five blocks away. Poppy walked two for an hour before she nearly gave up on the unfathomable walk. In favor of her luck, one of the neighborhood urchins thought she was pretty and pulled her the rest of the way in his wagon. She rode in the wooden box as if it were the carriage she always wanted to ride in. Beggars couldn’t afford to be choosy.

When they arrived to the entrance of the carnival, the urchin paid both of their admissions. Poppy was under too much duress to be flattered or surprised. She did touch his hand to thank him with a smile once they passed the booth. The urchin stopped in the middle of a crowd and Poppy was taken aback by the level of noise.
“Okay. Where we going?” the urchin asked with a smile.
Poppy could barely speak. “Anywhere.”
The urchin leaned close to Poppy. “Are you a rich man’s daughter?”
“No.”
He winked his eye. “You sure? Because you are pretty.”
“Thank you.”
The urchin pointed somewhere. “How about we get on that Merry-Go-Round?”
“Perfect.”

The urchin whipped the wagon around and Poppy lost a few of her numbered breaths. He raced for the carousel and Poppy thought she would perish from the sudden movements. The line was short to Poppy’s luck again.
“It’s moving quickly uh… what’s your name miss?” the urchin played with his thumbs.
“Poppy.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s beautiful! Like the flower!”
“Thank you.”
“Won’t you ask me mine?” he began to blush.
Poppy began to doze off.
“Well that’s rude.”

Nevertheless, the urchin pulled Poppy to the front of the line as it moved. She woke up on occasion, each time became more of a challenge. The noise and music from her surroundings had become more overwhelming than she had thought. Poppy wasn’t sure if she was going to make it as long as she hoped. Just when her fatigue and exhaustion had broken their barriers, she was being helped out of the wagon by a bearded gentleman in a black suit. As she was hoisted into the air her surroundings had blurred into a distorted grayscale. Poppy was placed upon a carousel seat and the ride had taken off. She could hear a distorted echo of the urchin next to her, but to turn her head would cause her to fall. She nodded and drifted back into a sopor in a shred of hope to stay alive for a bit longer.

Timekeeper went back to the booth and checked Poppy’s clock. With the needle and zero nearly align he took a sip of his drink and turned his head away from the carousel viewing window. The urchin was extremely absent minded and left Poppy and his wagon at the carousel as soon as it was over. Poppy was left to spin on the carousel in the heat all day.
At the end of the amusement day, there was a banging on Timekeeper’s booth. He opened the door where he met Death’s angry gaze.
“Are you aware that there’s a girl out there stinking up the Merry-Go-Round?”
Timekeeper glanced down at the watch. “When did she die?”
“From the stench I’d say before high noon, just around the time the temperatures hit 85 Fahrenheit.” Death rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you paying attention!?”
Timekeeper walked past him towards the carousel. “I prefer to keep my mind from this.”
“Her corpse was rotting in the heat all day!”
Timekeeper stayed silent while Death angrily dragged the decaying girl to elsewhere to handle his matters.

Poppy: An Epilogue.

Old habits and thoughts are not easy to release. One could say that those dilemmas danced with Poppy and Timekeeper. Timekeeper still spins his carousel and everyone scratches their head as to whether Poppy actually died. The parents of the recently deceased Poppy deny her ever being born. On the other hand, community is still in mourning.

After being dragged to elsewhere Death gave the story of Poppy a second chapter. Such a small child deserved a second dance in the Danse Macabre. He gave her another song, one he hoped was a bit longer and sent her back out to the dancing floor.
Timekeeper noticed Poppy’s clock ticking again and heaved a sigh of relief. Her corpse was too far gone by natural law for saving, but the soul was forever.

The jubilee only lasted for a few years as Poppy came back to Timekeeper’s carousel sicker than last time. Poppy not only cried her alabaster tears for others but she now drank more of them herself. Her troubled mind and decrepit body never left her, even after transcendent renewal right? Not exactly. Poppy was merely recycled. Her memories simply played over in a new life. Horror with a twinge of confusion. The right Poppy in the wrong life. Well, she got the alabaster tears part right. 

Death was waiting at the carousel for her this time around. The smell of her living decay was so strong, Death had been following her for the past week playing a morbid stalking game. Just like the last time, Timekeeper helped her on the carousel and started the ride. As the girl went around in circles, Timekeeper smashed her clock. Death never saw him supersede his authority. However, bit by bit Timekeeper repaired the clock enough to string her life along. When Death retrieved the girl she was a blank slate. Poppy no more. Timekeeper passed her off to Death while her alabaster tears turned to tar.

In Death Poppy found life, but only after she was slaughtered twice. Her future is one of confusion and wandering for truth. She has a little help along the way from him. He was quick to pull the laudanum bottle from her hands.