Act 2: Freedom? Part 1: Escape(ism)

Madi’s fingers stopped moving and the keyboard stood still as she read the line which she had unconsciously put onto the light of the screen:

‘Night filled her lungs as Jo looked to the deep blackness of the sky. Voice cracking with fear, she screamed into the ignorant void “I know what I am!”’ 

Panicked by this sudden and unexpected shift in the story, she slammed the laptop closed, unsure of her next step. As always, she loved when characters just did their thing but this… this scared even her. She felt as if all control over the story had become a derailed train speeding further and further away from the track. In her mind, she was faced with a simple question: Does she open it again and face whatever it may be that awaits her on the page or simply scrap it and begin anew? No, there was no time for that. She had to get this manuscript done as soon as possible otherwise Red Water would have her head served to her dedicated readers on a silver platter. So, frightened, confused, and without any other options, she opened the screen again. She read over the lines again. And again. And again. The only way out would be through. But there was no way that she could write this without even knowing how it was supposed to go. So, again at a loss for other options, she remembered a creative writing experiment that her professor had taught her during her freshman year of college, almost a year before she was a best selling author. Slowly she closed her eyes allowing her fingers to be her sight. Experienced hands felt the edges of the keys as she began to type. Brain cut off, she allowed instincts to carry her out of this mess. Deep down, Madison knew this may end up being a mistake but also that perhaps it would produce a masterpiece unlike the world has ever seen and unlike anything she had ever written. Determined to create the latter, she continued to type with determination.

Jocelyn felt ill. This wasn't the first time she had become sick to her stomach. Raw meat, strong smells, and too much candy on that one Halloween when she was eleven, have been the catalyst for this awful feeling before but now it was an existential sickness. The kind that originated in the mind and worked its way to the stomach. Not the other way around. It wasn't long before her legs buckled and she fell to the ground, midnight street cold below her bare knees. How is this possible, all this time? Nothing but fiction. Was this my whole life? Am I nothing but words on a page? 

Jocelyn began to stand again as her conviction slowly regained its hold. No… no. I refuse this. It's not true. Simply, it is not true. I am not just words on a page. I am not just a character. I am not some idea, I am a person. I am not catharsis personified. 

She began to run, legs numb from adrenaline but feet feeling every step as needles to her sole. She did not know where she was going in the darkness but wherever she went it was bound to be better than here. I am a human being, I am Jocelyn Marie Thatcher and I. Am. Real. 

As her legs carried her into the cold of night, she felt her head begin to become light. Street lights streaked by as heavy footfalls resonated off the houses around her. I am real. I am real. 

Her breathing became ragged accompanied by a sharp pain in her side, it had been a long time since she had run this far this fast. Another turn and Jo’s vision became dimmer and the darkness beyond the lights became like castle walls closing in upon the moat in which she was drowning. I am…real. I am human.

She had to get out, somehow. Deep down she knew that, no matter how far she ran, no matter how fast she swimmed, no matter how high she flew, it wouldn’t really change anything about her plight; however anything was bound to be better than reality for at least a moment. So, with this idea seared into the mental canvas of her mind, she continued to run through the castle walls of her mind, swim through the moat of the night, and fly through the spires of her life. Street signs became blurred like distant stars and the houses all blended into one continuous stretch of cold visages signifying the end of her stamina. I…a-am…real.

She knew not where she was, what or who she was anymore. Dizzy and in desperate need of air, she felt her body trip and fall although her brain did not follow suit, preferring to remain everywhere but where it belonged. 

I…just need…to breathe. 

Her strained chest rose and fell at an increasingly rapid rate, fighting to keep up with her heart.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…

Before she could exhale again, the blackness had fully closed in and she became limp on the street.

The stars melted away to the crisp air of dawn. The pain of roadburn, partnered with a throbbing migraine, awoke Jo with a jolt from a darkness that she had hardly registered there. She was grateful however, that her dizziness had gone away. That momentary joy was replaced with that strange, kind of funny, feeling. You know the one. It's there when you fall asleep when sick and awake almost fourteen hours later to the light of the street lamps through your window. Those twinkling lights that had been there when you fell asleep and were there when you awoke. It's there when you stay in a new city for the first time and realize you forget what the hometown you came from looked like. The feeling where you make a choice in your life that you know you should feel good about but yet still lingering in the muddled parts of your mind, is a form of nostalgia for what had never been. Jo, now under the influences of this feeling. She did not recognize this part of Morgantown, where she had attended school for nearly four entire years and lived for two of those. Everything around her seemed to be that peculiar brand of dreaming. That kind where you know that you are asleep but waking up is not possible. So, you are forced to accept this odd new reality as you are powerless to do anything about it.

Picking herself up from the asphalt, she could feel her bad ankle beginning to hurt. To allow it to stop throbbing, she stood for a second before starting to walk through the still empty early morning town. Looking around for any sense of place, time, or self, she found a tall, familiar building only a block away. Without a second thought she hurriedly walked toward it, taking the corners like the edge of a knife. Within moments she stood in front of the very place she had spent the most amount of time since moving away from home: CSU, her alma mater. With a purpose, which not even she was privy to, she began to march through the center field and to the main hall. Something was off. She took a shaky step closer and another. A hesitant few later she faced the sign on the building, read it, mouthed the words, and even read it out loud once more in order to try and process it. “Woodburn… Hall. That can’t be right, it's called Marilyn Hall.” 

Looking around once more, everything seemed wrong to her. The grass wasn't green enough. There were less trees than usual. Everything looked larger than it had any right to be and yet all far too small. It made her stomach nauseous.

She looked at the screen in awe. Every instance of the mention of the character of Jocelyn had been removed. With each space left a resounding silence stood. Like the life and soul of the story had been lost. Having spent so much of her precious time staring at that name, it being gone was seeing her book in the nude. It was wrong. So very wrong.

Desperate for information, she began to walk through campus to the Chloe E. Harrison Jr. Library which was situated next to the downtown library about five minutes away. It was a place that she had often visited to procure her high number of novels. However, when she reached the downtown library, she found that the university library was on the opposite side that she was used to. Jo did not let this bother her as she had plenty on her mind already. She also barely batted an eye when the name above the door was actually Charles C. Wise not Chloe. She tried the door and found it locked. She tried her id and the scanner did not even register it was there.

As she stood, defeated at the door, a car pulled into the parking lot across from the building next door. The second that the woman driving stepped out of the old black jeep, Jo was made aware of just how awkward she may appear: a woman with long ratty hair, crooked glasses, Jean shorts, a tote bag and an oversized shirt staring at an id scanner on the building like she was stoned beyond belief. Focused on making herself presentable, she did not even notice the other woman, who was significantly more well dressed than her in a business casual blazer, approach with a skeptical look on her face. “Can I… help you, miss?” 

Jo jumped at the sound of her voice and dropped her wallet. “Hi, yes. Um…I am aware this is a strange question but, where am I?” 

Jo bent down to gather the spilled contents of her wallet, cheeks turning a rosey pink. The woman seemed a bit taken aback by the blunt question but answered in earnest. “Uh…Morgantown, West Virginia. You aren't from around here are you? Are you on something?” 

Jo stood up once more and wiped at the sweat on her glasses. “I actually am, I just…don't remember it like this. I suppose I'm just a bit confused, that's all… Maybe I am just a bit far from home. And, before you ask me again, no I am not a smoker or a drinker. I have just… had a very long night and I really need some help right about now.” 

The woman looked at her watch, mostly ignoring her words. “Do you…um, do you need a ride somewhere? Do you attend this school? What do you need?” 

Jo nodded “I… I do, I do attend here. See, here’s my ID.” 

Jo flashed the woman her ID which was in the clear pocket where a drivers license would normally be. The incredulous look on her face only grew more concerned as the ID, which looked almost identical to any student’s card who goes to WVU, read the name of a totally different place. One doesn’t even make sense or exist in general. Jo continued, “I'm working on my bachelors in business. I'm supposed to be graduating this year.” 

“What's your name Ms?” 

Jo dug around in her bag and found her phone. It was as dead as a doornail, something that Jo usually avoided like the plague. “My phone is dead, Do you have a charger or a computer?” 

The woman looked around nervously. “No. Not without your name.” 

Jo scratched her head as if trying to remember her own name “Um, Jo…Jocelyn Thatcher my friends call me Jo. What's yours?” 

Instead of answering immediately the woman instead gave her a strange look “Jo Thatcher…What's your middle name?” 

“Marie, Why?” 

She sniffed. “You’re kidding. You must be quite the fan. Seriously, what's your name?” 

Jo’s brow furrowed, “What are you talking about? My name is Jo. Now are you going to help me or not?” 

“You cannot be serious,” The woman set down her stack of books and began to wrestle with a key card wrapped around her neck, “Not everyday you meet a cosplayer as dedicated as you or encounter such a funny coincidence. Whatever, Jo Marie Thatcher, you can use a computer in the library.” 

With a small click, the door was opened by the hand of the kind and surprisingly trusting woman who allowed Jo to pass in front of her. Jo thanked her immensely. Most people would have probably told her to get lost or called the police. Why did she not?

“Don’t mention it. I really shouldn’t have let you into the building in the first place since you don't have an… official ID. So, I will need you out of the building in about an hour because we open by that time and I would get in some pretty bad trouble for this.” 

The door shut behind them as the woman began to turn lights on within the large building.

“Of course, I understand. Thank you again ms…”

“Paulsen. Annie Paulsen, I am the head librarian here and a professor in the theatre department and, again, don’t mention it. I have a good eye for good people and I can tell you aren't dangerous, Jo. Follow me, the computers are over here.”

The Charles C. Wise and downtown library was a sight to behold. Enough books to make you question why you had ever read anywhere else. Enough books to make you question the validity of your own life.

“So, if not here, then where are you from?” 

Annie posed the question as they walked down the center aisle. Jo thought if she should lie but decided expressly against it. “Born in Buffalo New York, moved to Morgantown for college.” 

She took a seat at the large screen of the corner most computer along the wall and pressed the power button. A second later the screen flashed to life before her eyes. Annie put in her login information while Jo looked away, respecting her privacy. “You said your middle name was Marie. Where did you get that beautiful name?” 

“My great grandmother’s middle name was Marie. I suppose my dad just liked it even if they hated each other.” Jo answered distractedly as she turned back to the computer and clicked on Google. Slowly as to make sure that she spelled it correctly the first time, she typed out the name ‘Madison Wood’. Annie sniffed. “You really are a dead ringer for…Well, what’s your boyfriend’s last name?” 

Jo thought what her answer to this question should be. “I don't have a boyfriend-” 

Annie’s mouth took on the shape of a smug smile “HA! Got ya!” 

“-Anymore, Clint…died. Me and Phil broke up…no, he left a couple weeks ago… his last name was Patson. I don’t remember if I ever learned Clint's, it's all kinda muddy. A lot happened really fast.” 

Google produced over a billion results within two seconds and suddenly Jo was met by an all too familiar face. Kind eyes, wide smile, and graying black hair reminded her of last night. The night everything fell apart. Not taking her eyes off the search engine supplied photo, Jo addressed her unofficial interrogator. “Why the hell are you so nosey, what are you expecting to gain by asking me all of these strangely specific questions?” 

She looked over at Annie to see her wearing a face of soft shock: mouth slightly ajar, eyes slightly widened, and her right eyebrow raised. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Without saying a single word she reached over and gently guided Jo’s mouse to the top result titled ‘Red Water Publishing- Madison Wood’  The enlarged face of the woman from earlier made Jo sick again. Not wishing to lose what little food was in her system from last evening, she quickly scrolled down past the photo. Taking a deep breath, Jo steadied herself once more. “Who was that?” 

Annie considered the shaken state of her newest acquaintance but decided not to pursue it. “She’s a famous author, mostly writes romance. Actually, come to think of it, she only writes romance.” 

The mouse pointer stopped on a series of books laid out in a neat row with a small description below each. Lips pursed, Jo read the description of each of the four complete books and that of the fifth one labeled ‘Unfinished’.

The Life of  Ms. Jocelyn M Thatcher: For many, the trials of high school are some of the greatest in the world. For Jocelyn Thatcher, this is no different. From the horrible teachers, to factions among her fellow students, and a severe anxiety disorder Jo is forced to not only live but survive.

Network Of A Clandestine Lie: A young man named Eli has always been at the center of his life. Not living so much as existing within his own center of attention. This continues until he meets a woman who acts as another foci. Turning the orbit of his life into an ellipse turning through love and fear. Will Eli be able to control the orbit? Or will he be thrown into space?

Burn Of A Broken Heart: Grief, like an ocean, ebbs and flows. Some days you feel fine and others you feel as if your heart is going to fall out of your chest. Follow along with Mary and Paul as they stumble through the loss of their child who was raped and murdered at the hands of a heartless man who regrets nothing.

The Love of  Ms. Jocelyn M Thatcher: Life after high-school has been hard on the young Thatcher but no problem could ever be greater for her than that of love. To abide with the highs and lows of this new feeling, she will have to work harder than any person has ever worked before to make ends meet. Even if her boyfriend is unwilling to help her. 

The Tale of Ms. Jocelyn M Thatcher (Unfinished): Beloved character, Jocelyn has experienced ups and downs but her biggest down is yet to make her fall. Fall into the arms of another man, that is. Jo will be forced to choose: to live the life she’d known for the last three years or learn to grow with the change. 

Jo’s shaking hand released the mouse and dropped to her side. Raising it to her mouth she began to hyperventilate, chest rising and falling faster and faster. Shaking her head she stood and began to pace. This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.

Her mind began to rush all over again, all of her fears had been proven true. 

“Oh. My. Gosh. You are Jocelyn M. Thatcher…M is short for Marie…” 

Annie stood up as well, “How… How is this possible? It doesn’t make sense. How are you here? Am I going crazy?” 

“I don't know. I don't know.”

Wringing her hands Jo shut her eyes, trying to recall how it was she got to where she was now. “I was…I was reading like a romance book, a really stupid one too. Then I saw the similarities to me… Clint failed to make me leave with him. He came back then she was there. Then he…then he…I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I yelled at the stars and… ran.” 

Jo stopped and looked at Annie. She tore off her glasses and began to rub her face as if she were trying to wake up. “I ran away. I ran away, damn it. Now I am here. Oh, God… does it say where whatever her name was lives? If anyone knows what is happening it will be her.” 

Annie stared in awe for a moment before hurriedly turning back to the computer. After a second of scrolling and a couple clicks later, she found what she was looking for. “New York City… and that's it.” 

“Well, I should probably go.” 

Jo started for the door before being stopped by her new friend’s hand on hers. “Be careful Jo. It's gonna be rough out there. For you, I mean. Celebrities don’t usually go out in public alone.”

Jo turned around to see Annie’s face turned into a concerned frown. “I don’t understand. I’m not a celebrity.” 

Annie scoffed. “Oh yes, you are. When I say you are famous I mean FAMOUS. Your last book, I mean, the last book written about you outsold the first one by a million copies. I even own them and I don't even read books like that usually…so just beware. The second they know who you are, and they will find out who you are, they will not stop hounding you. Some people may even take advantage of you in so many ways I cannot even imagine. Promise me you will be careful out there, Jo.”

 Jo nodded “Thank you, Annie. you really have been too kind. I promise I will watch my back. Thank you again.” 

As Jo continued to walk to the door, Annie’s voice stopped her once more. “I have a bike on the back of my car.” 

She tossed Jo a small set of bike lock keys. “This should help you out a bit but I do wish I could help you more.” 

“How can I ever repay you, Annie?” 

She shook her head “Oh, no need, Jo. It's not everyday you see something taken out of fiction… literally.” 

“No, no. I insist. How can I repay you?” 

Annie watched her new friend run out the door towards her salvation. When the room had fallen quiet as it always was, she glanced at the book in her lap. Picking it off her skirt, she opened the volume and scanned the message on the first page, just beside the dedication: ‘To My Boyfriend Harper: Thank You For Inspiring Me’. the handwriting read: ‘To Annie Paulsen, Thank you. Your thankful and dearest friend’ signed: 

Jo Thatcher

She hugged it to her chest with pride. Good luck Jo.