Alysse Aallyn

Category: psychology

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 13 – Why Women Want to Escape Lord Verne

    I know I did. Did this mean that I

    Could finally consider myself

    Grown up? Wouldn’t my teachers 

    Be surprised. Verne inveighed against Kruptupian

    The whole way back

    And I didn’t stop him.

    I imagined myself floating above him

    And looking down on him

    Pityingly. Wondered if Mirabel

    Ever had done that.

    At the Fifth Avenue apartments

    Someone claiming to be Derek Lowther

    Was pacing back and forth,

    Eyed by the suspicious doorman.

    He was over six feet tall, very skinny with

    Explosively curly brown hair, 

    Big soulful green eyes and perfect skin.

    I almost threw myself into this strange man’s arms

    And kissed him.

    “You’re not Derek,” I announced, exiting the car,

    .“Derek Lowther is a ratty, pimply little brat 

    Who spits when he talks.”

    “And you were a squirt with braces

    And a squint,” he sassed back,

    All I needed to hear for confirmation.

    Nobody knows about the squint.

    “It’s called amblyopia 

    And I’m all cured now,” I told him

    As  we race-scrolled through family pics –

    Growing up for each other’s eyes

    Across eight years of ski slopes

    School parties, beaches and

    Christmas.  “Verne, this is Derek Lowther.”

    Verne barely deigned to register

     The presence of another human being.

    “Step into the café,” he ordered.

    Perhaps if you’re six feet tall 

    And possibly still growing

    Things are different but hadn’t we

    Just breakfasted?  No one cared.

    Derek:  2 Breakfast burritos and a café Americano,

    Verne: espresso and blueberry blintzes,

    Richenda: Milky coffee, everything bagel.

    Only ordered where I can

    Shed bagel dust at will.

    As he and Verne gazed at each other

    I thought Derek required a call-back.

    “Remember Mirabel?”

     “I remember the Mirabel Legend,”

    Derek offered.  Honest guy.

    “Kids absorb gossip.”

    “What kind of gossip?”

    Verne was too sharp, I thought, snapping

    At a guest like that.

    Soon Derek too would want escape –

    Playing into my hands exactly.

    I smiled to myself, steepling my fingers

    Like a movie mad scientist.

    “Text and sub text,” Derek offered.

    “Text” was parents explaining Mirabel had run away,

    “Sub-text” came through eavesdropping about

    Mirabel living wild and free to public acclaim.”

    I could work with this guy, I thought,

    Satisfied.  At least

    We spoke the same language –

    Very unlike me & Verne.

    “We were going to get married,” huffed Verne.

    “She gave up her job with her boss –“

    “Her nasty boss –“ I added. Helping.

    “She called Richenda to help with planning.”

    See? THAT wasn’t true.

    Since I didn’t challenge Verne went on more

    Confidently, “Ghosted us at dinner.  

    Didn’t come home at all last night.”

    Derek looked at me with an

    Expression seeming to communicate

    “Tell me the REAL story later.”

    I liked him more and more.

    “Wow,” Derek commented evenly. 

    “Rough.” Turned to me. “You saw her?”

     “I did,” I offered, not willing to say

    In front of Verne what exactly I had seen.

    “She’s a redhead now.”

    Verne was impressed enough

    To plunge into a long recital 

    Of our late night Kruptupian call,

    Then insisting Ravi posed as

    Mirabel’s groom. I could tell

    My silence was registering with Derek.

    Since he seemed to know I saw it

    Differently, he must know I wanted

    Getting out of there.

    “Runaway Bride,” said Derek,

     “I get that you can’t involve the media.”

     “Any ideas?” asked Verne.

    “I’ll study traffic cams for Mirabel locations,”

    Derek offered, “See where she went.

    And with who.”

    Verne’s eyes jumped with excitement.

    “You can do that?”

    “Traffic cameras are easy, private cams

    Are more complex.”

    “I’ve got the exact times she was in 

    Brooklyn and at the spa,” I offered. 

    “I just need my laptop,” said Derek,

    Hastily said,

    “I need the ladies’ room”

    But secretly went upstairs

    To get my bag and leave it

    In the hall.

    Verne did not alert, unaware

    Of my escape. Like Mirabel

     I was getting the hell out.

    When I got back they were discussing

    Hiring a P.I., Derek’s dad

    Had an art theft guy.

    “We think she ditched her phone. “

     “But her online account,

    See who she called –

    It’s golden. Maybe just a password hack,” 

    Said Derek. “Depends how well you know 

    The person.” “I can help with that,” I said,

    Possibly unwisely – Verne’s face

    Froze in jealous competition.

    Apparently I belonged to him

    Already.

    Verne paid the bill,

    Discomfited by precipitous

    Abandonment.

    “I have some friends to call,” he sniffed.

    Threat or promise – we encouraged him.

    “I’m going to see Derek’s folks” I lied so

    Smoothly Derek kept his calm.

    “They’ll have all kinds of suggestions.”

    Verne was stymied

    By our determination.

    “I’ll call,” I promised pathetically.

    Verne made a note of Derek’s number.

    I marched after Derek

    Who was walking decisively.

    “So where are we going?” I hissed

    Conspiratorially.

    “Subway. No car service on my allowance.”

    Down the steps into the hot and stinky 

    Underworld. “Fine with me,” I offered.

    “I want to be anonymous.”

    “I know the feeling,” said Derek.

    “What’s with that guy?

    You’re escaping a police state.”

    We clutched straps and leaned together

    Studiously ignoring people who

    Were studiously ignoring us.

    “So, what’s the deal?”

    Hissed Derek.  “Do you think he murdered her?”

    “Not sure,” I said, “When he wanted me

    To comfort him he said

    I wasn’t the first fourteen-year old he’d had.”

     “Oh, my God,” said Derek. “Disgusting guy.

    His world is him and whoever he’s picked

    To be his mirror.”

    A startling, grisly, accurate thought.

    “He left with me,” I mused,

    “I’m his alibi but he could always hire someone.” 

    “But you don’t think she’s dead.”

    “I hope she’s not. But if I find her now

    I feel sure she’ll finally tell the truth.”

    That idea sounded stupid to my ears.

    Wouldn’t Mirabel do what she’d

    Always done and feed me any story

    I wanted to believe?

    “I think I can tell the truth from lies,”

    I offered, I’d like to

    Test it.” To Derek’s credit

    He didn’t argue. “My only question is;

    What if he killed her, and then

    Hired a girl to impersonate Mirabel?”

    I had to admit I’d thought of this.

    “It doesn’t sound so hard to me,” said Derek.

    “After all you haven’t seen her for – what –

    Six years?” I shook my head.

    “I think it was really her and everything

    She said and did was signaling. 

    I longed to learn her language.

    “I think –“ could I confess this deepest secret

    To this stranger –

    “She’s longing to be found.”

    A moment’s silence but Derek didn’t

    Counter. “We’ll check her friends,” he said, 

    “When we open her account.”

    Did Mirabel have friends?

    Would Verne allow it?

    I must have looked like a stopped clock

    Because he propelled me out the double doors.

    “Is this our stop?” “Change trains.”

    Back to waiting on a dangerous platform 

    In the dark, hovering over an electrified hell.

    Had I always been this scared

    Of  everything?

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

     Derek speaking.

    “Sounds just like Mirabel to me.  Wasn’t

    Disappointing everyone her stock in trade?”

    Impossible to argue with.

    But I put in the effort.

     “Maybe something’s REALLY happened to her this time.

    She seems to have been juggling two men

    She hated; stealing diamonds and God knows what.”

    Should I explain her attempted

    Brain hijacking?

    Maybe I shouldn’t tell him anything.

    Why couldn’t I stop myself? Because

    Derek is my age and will have

    Predictable response? It felt like,

    AT LAST a human being 

    To speak to in this world of artificial masks.

    “God. I’m sorry.” His voice really did

    Sound sorry. “Do you want to come here?

    Should I go there?”

    It was fresh and novel to be offered

    The Choice. Sounded like he really

    Wanted to help. 

     “What could you do?”

    My own voice sounded like a five year old

    Quivering on the edge of tears.

    “Help you look? I’d do anything I can.”

    I gave Derek the bridegroom’s address.

    Speaking of the bridegroom, he burst through 

    The doors, arms full of literature and bottled water.

    “Hotel coupons, flight discounts –

    These could suggest where Mirabel might go.

     Or where Ravi might stash her.

    What a liar! That bastard!”

    He DEFINITELY wanted to be the one

    Whose mood Mirabel controlled.

    I felt I had to interject some authenticity.

    “She probably wanted to keep Ravi

    From chasing her. Or suing her. 

    For, you know, the diamonds.”

    Verne paused to drink from his

    Chilled bottle, flicking

    Droplets on his collar.

    “She shouldn’t turn to him.”

    So we were back to Bad Mirabel,

    Conniving Mirabel, with motives

    Always suspect.

    Not so different – as Derek pointed out –

    From the way she’d always been.

    We climbed dispiritedly back into the car.

    I needed Derek. Just to speak to

    Someone sane.

     “Have you announced your engagement

    Formally?”

    “No. We just thought of it. No details yet.”

    This opened an unpleasant picture.

    Why was I the first

    Wedding task?

    It couldn’t be that Mirabel needed

    Someone sane to speak to –

    I must be a distraction

    From what I could see was Verne’s

    Slow boil.

    At that very moment

     he eyed my phone suspiciously.

    “So, who was that?”

    I saw him itching to 

    Commandeer my phone.

    Who WOULD I be talking to? The press?

    Poor Mirabel! Her trap was sounding

    Worse than ever.

    I engineered my way out.

    “My parents’ friends.

     Their son could help –

    He’s hacker smart.” 

    Should I mention my upcoming move?

    Best not; a storm settled between 

    Verne’s eyes. He thirsted to be

    My focus of attention with

    No competitor to mute his power.

    “He’s meeting us at the apartment.”

    Verne didn’t like that one bit.

    I realized, even if I have to sacrifice my clothes

    I must escape.

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aalyn

    I closed the door for

    Privacy but Dad only wanted 

    To speak to Verne. He was

    WAY more interested in talking to a man 

    He’d never met than listening to

    His own kid! Go ahead. IGNORE the Virgin.

    The virgin is used to it!

    At least I was allowed

    To listen in.

    Verne said Mirabel had just pulled a “Mirabel.”

    “Wedding’s off, I take it?” asked my Dad.

    He sounded relieved!

    “Not because of anything I’ve done or said,”

    Verne assured. “She just can’t seem to cope.”

    Handed back the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

    “Take the first train home,”

    My Dad directed.

    “Dad, it’s only Saturday!”

    “You can’t stay alone

    In some young man’s apartment.

    Doesn’t look good.”

    “Who’s looking?” I demanded. “Besides, he’s staying

    at The Stanhope,” I winked at Verne.

    “I’m sorry, no! Must I put your mother on? 

    You know she’ll back me up.”

    “At least let me call the Lowthers.  

    Maybe they’re in town.”

    Longtime family friends. He subsided.

    Muttering.

    “Parents are so awful,” I proclaimed out loud once

    Severing connections.

    “They think I’m a baby.”

    “They want you to never age”

    And Verne smiled wickedly at his private

    Epsteinian joke.

    I found the Lowthers’ number and got only voicemail –

    Should have figured that would happen!

    They were at the Cold Spring country house of course!

    I enunciated clearly, “This is Richenda Marshott

    with an emergency question. Please call me back as soon 

    As you get this at 715-527-1313.”

    This granted me another day at least

    I thought till

    Someone might check in.

    If I spoke to any member of the family –

    even barf-inducing Sierra – I could fend off Dad

    For the entire weekend.

    Verne looked hungrily at my phone.

    “What question will you ask?”

    “Why, if they’ve heard from Mirabel of course.”

    Dropped it in my pocket. High-waist jeans

    Have deep, deep pockets.

    “I’m going to the Day-Spa,”

    I said, allowing him to bail. 

    But of course he said,

    “I’m coming too.”

    Chapter 12 – Derek

    Bioceutically Renewed was so far east

    It was almost in the water.  At the door, a

    Sweet-faced Asian lady

    Expressed almost comic dismay.

    “Customers privacy sacrosanct!  You understand.

    Sacrosanct.” But

    Just when I would have recommended

     Verne get more friendly

    He went haughty.

    “We’re talking about a missing person!”

    He barked. “This is a police case!”

    She was not to be caught.

    “Are you police?”

    “He’s the fiancé.” Reaching out to touch her arm was

    Too naïve! She shrank away.

    Verne swelled, his importance

    Throbbing. “I’d like to see

    The manager!”

    We filled the tiny waiting room.

    The employee backed away, alarmed,

    Scurrying, hastily diminishing

    In size. I imagined that was their secret to dispense –

    Clients requesting “to be smaller”

    Turned into mice. I hissed at Verne.

    “What if she calls the police on US?”

    He waved this away, airily.

     “Flunkies never do.  A British title paves the path

    To everything.” How I wished

    This wasn’t true. The frosty-eyed manager 

    Was neither young  nor Asian, 

    But when I introduced, “This is Lord Verne, 

    Mirabel’s fiancé and I’m her sister” 

    Her expression changed most notably.

    How in our democracy could Verne be right?

    “Have you told the police?”

    “They’ll get involved after the waiting period,” Verne said

     Smoothly. Far too smoothly. How many

    Wives had disappeared on him before?

    “We think she’s under duress. We’re trying 

    To act fast.” I begged;

     “We just want to find her! She carries

    Valuables. She could be in danger.”

    Verne’s eyes raked me over,

    While he fluttered his lips

    Disgustedly, as if to say –

    “And she left me with this THING!”

    Instead of instant ejection

    We made it to the inner sanctum, an

    Unromantic room where filing cabinets loomed 

    Over wooden chairs. Ms. “Operations Manager”

    Consulted her computer.

    “She signed up for our Wedding Package

    But only made the first appointment. That was

    Days ago. I understood – er – her fiancé

    Was…someone different altogether.”

    Verne paled and lost his breath.

    Fell into a punitively twisted chair.

    It was up to me to ask the questions.

    “Short, fat, bald?”

    “That’s the one.” The woman panicked

    At her own audacity.

    “Tells us what we need to know.”

    Verne was gasping like a fish

    And he was not a good color.

    I thought he might stroke out.

    “Contact numbers?”

    “Contrary to policy. I’m sorry.

    Her voice was cold, but her eyes were warm.

    “May I get you a water?”

    “Please,” said Verne. “Bottled, if possible.”

    The moment she was out the door I raced

    To the computer. “Last appointment was three days ago!”

    I took a screenshot with my phone.

    Ms. Harvey returned with a bottle of chilled water

    which Verne accepted. I was rescued

    By the ringing of my phone.

    “I’ve got to take this.”

    Stepping into the hall.

    I heard a deep masculine voice. 

    “Hi. This is Derek Lowther. Is that 

    Richenda?” Derek Lowther? Last time I saw him he was a

    Particularly nightmarish twelve year old jerk.

    (I was a cool eleven year old sophisticate.)

    This was NOT the person I’d hoped to speak to. I

    Pushed out through the anteroom and into

    The pale winter sunshine, playing

    For time. “Yes,”

    I told Derek unwillingly, “it’s me.”

    “So what’s the emergency question?”

    “Have you heard from Mirabel?”

    He was genuinely astonished.

    “Has ANBODY heard from Mirabel?

    I certainly haven’t. I’m at the apartment.

    Do you mean, did she call here?”

    “Maybe you could find out 

    If your parents have heard anything?”

    “They’re on retreat in Sri Lanka.  You can assume 

    The answer’s No. What’s the hurry?”

    “Mirabel is missing.”

    A beat of silence. I could hear his struggle to be polite.

    “Wasn’t Mirabel ALWAYS missing?”

    “This time’s exceptional. She came back. 

    She was getting married.  

    Then she disappeared. Again.”

    I have to admit it did not sound like an emergency.

    Impossible to explain anything to this guy!

    Hadn’t seen him in 3 years and already 

    I was angry at him.

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 7 – Bride & Seek

    In the elevator Verne requested: 

    “Game face only.” I was bemused.

    Which game is that?

    “Bride and Seek” – the ancient

    Party game – requires someone 

    Getting locked in an airtight trunk

    Does not end well, as I recall.

    We decanted on the penthouse floor.

    Battle of the Rich Men, I thought,

    Who knew that’s how my

    Weekend would devolve?

     But this man’s apartment seemed really his

    As opposed to Verne’s

    Antiseptic rented rooms – 

    Each gaudy piece carefully curated, 

    Trucked in from God knows where

     Art deco friezes,

    Naked ebony statues –

    Bows & arrows –

    Lots of brass and torchieres.

    And that’s just the hall.

     Leather paneled, copper nailed door 

    Opened before we even rang the bell and 

    A handsome, shorter, older man

    Stood before us in bathrobe and slippers.

    Mirabel with this guy?

    What is the use of beauty

    If this is all it gets you

    Verne’s at least good-looking. 

    “Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I

    Recognized as jovially false: 

    “What brings you at this hour?

    Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent

    I couldn’t place.

    He took my hand, mauling it like many

    An unbalanced teacher at my Special School

    for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subjects

    Long Before They’re Ready.

    I am practiced at closing my mind

    Against these guys

    Even as they woo me.

     “You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”

    “That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”

    “I’m Ravi Kruptupian,” said the man, 

    Refusing to let go.

    Subtle power struggle – your manners make no

    Purchase here –

    My first flicker of

    Actual fear – alone in the world

    With two strange men who wore

    Compulsive need like ad logos.

    I can’t fault Mirabel for deciding 

     Better disappear than marry amongst this ilk but

    Where does that leave ME?

     “Welcome to my enchanted forest,”

    Said the man in the bathrobe.

    “Please leave your shoes by the door.”

    He slid the bolt as

    We came through.

     “I know it’s late,” Verne began,

    Ravi said, “Never care about the time. Drink?

    Pot of coffee?”

    Kruptupian’s inner rooms did not reassure.

    Dark, hand-carved, certainly fake

    Tree branches projected from the walls

    Displaying riots of glittering glass objects.

    Coffee appeared from

    A wall recess. Why not? 

    Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.

    “Where exactly did Mirabel SAY she was going?”

    Asked this man as if he and Mirabel’d never met.

    “Aren’t you supposed to be

    Honeymooning?”

    Was that a tinge of glee I heard?

    I’m sure Verne heard it too.

    He might go off on any moment –

    I didn’t think he was coping well –

    Game face was NOT in evidence.

    We sat in an upholstered leather booth

    Highbacked –

    Plundered from some café.

    “She didn’t say,” said Verne.

     “She was joining us for dinner,”

    I told this strange new man.

    “I just arrived on the six o’clock train.”

    “Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.

    “Or so I’ve heard.

    Your relationship was good?”

    Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at telling folks

    The basic facts about her family.

    Was he implying

    Mirabel left because of ME?

    Two Marshott girls never breathe at once?

    I decided not to get into it.

    “She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”

    I began to feel hopped up on coffee.

    Quit that stuff

    Before the shaking hands. I

    Banged my mug upon his shiny table.

    “I heard you knew her well.”

    Let him think she’d squealed –

    I smiled in a way that forecloses

    Further questions and

    He blinked indulgently.

    “I haven’t heard a word 

    Since her going away party.”

    Ripple of surprise from Verne.

     “Going-away party” unknown to groom?

    Ravi kept smiling. 

    He had a lot of teeth.

    “Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone

    I heartily recommend 

    Fall in love with your SELF first.”

    We did not believe him for a minute –

    He was needling Verne.

    This bad conversation somehow seemed

    To be endlessly getting worse.

    “She certainly had the means –

     I gave her a generous parting gift

    Then found out she helped herself to more.”

    His face hardened, steely-eyed.

    “I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”

    “Mirabel stole from you?”  spluttered Verne.

    “Who knows what went through her mind,” 

    Ravi spread his hands in apology.

    “She may have been confused about my gift.

    No harm done.

    Jacobson returned the stones.”

    What did all this mean? Don’t worry about Mirabel,

    She’s just a little thief?

    Disappearing from humiliation, exposure & shame?

    I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:

    Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?

    Never had “game face” seemed so

    Dangerous and unappealing.

    “She worked for you?”

    I tried to clarify.

     “She was my scout. She brought me – 

    Things I might want to buy.”

    Verne’s boil burst.

    “She never for anything with me!”

    He sounded ready for a fight

    But defending his money, his charm or

    My sister?

    Ravi skirted the issue

    With old-world politesse.

    “Women keep some expenses private.”

    That’s true as dirt;

    My mother calls it “mad money”.

    A hundred dollars tucked inside

    Your bra. Verne would never best this man

     Except in hotness and

    Eligibility. Someone

    Needed to tell him he was “enough”;

    Probably that was Mirabel’s job

    And she got tired of doing it.

    I was not the one to explain to him.

    I pursued investigation.

    “Did she call you?”

    Ravi pulled out his phone. 

    Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”

    “She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”

    Verne asserted, coming back up

    Like a Bobo doll.

    “Know anything about that?”

    He was overly combative – this

    Wouldn’t get us anywhere.

    “What address?” At least

    Ravi seemed interested.

    Luckily Verne recalled it.

    Ravi remained impassive.

    “I’ve got no information.”

    Verne stood up. This felt bad.

    “Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”

    Ravi rose too. 

    Short but still impressive.

    “She never had a key. She couldn’t enter

     Without my knowing. I’d rather

    My house guests weren’t disturbed.”

    Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.

    Ravi walked us  – miming helpfulness

    Towards the door.

    “I suggest missing persons.

    Get police involved.”

    He seemed to know this would insult Verne further

    And it did but Verne shook it off, 

    A punch-drunk fighter.

    “What good are they?”

    Ravi pushed his luck.

    “Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”

    Verne’s face melted into gargoyle. 

    Turning to me Ravi backtracked –

    “Likely bridal nerves?  The engagement was

    So sudden.”

    “We’ve been together forever!”

    Verne barked. I took his arm.

    “Sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you.”

    Somehow the door got opened.

    “No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”

    I shoehorned Verne outside.

    “You’ll tell us if she calls?”

    “If that’s what Mirabel wants.”

    I got the door shut before Verne

    Attacked him.

    “I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!

    How I wish we hadn’t come!”

    I thought he might weep.

    The elevator opened without a

    Summons. This whole place seemed

    Intent on ridding itself of us.

    But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”

    He looked back longingly.

    “I bet she’s not.” I muscled him

    Into the elevator.

     “How do you know?”

    He looked at me as if I had

    Magic powers.

    “He accused Mirabel of stealing!”

    Verne blew that off.

    “Mirabel’s light-fingered.

    He steals from the world, she steals from him.”

    He didn’t seem to realize 

    This philosophy could apply to him.

    Why marry someone you can’t trust?

    One more thing I still don’t get

    About Adult World.

    I reassured him.

    “She burned that bridge. I could tell.”

    Verne taxed me with how I knew –

    Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”

    Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel

    How could he trust me?

    Needing me made him hate me.

    I would have to manage him 

    Like a parent. Like poor

    Mirabel herself. Luckily

    He relaxed into the car without more fuss.

    I said, humoresque – “I’m psychic.”

    I say that to my folks because

    They’re just so clueless about

    Others’ vital signs –

    How else explain the obvious? But

    Verne’s whole face changed. He became

    Pathetically excited.

    “Of course!” he said.

    “The sister thing! It creates

    A Psychic link. I have no siblings. 

    Tell me what you feel?

    Where’d she go?”

    The driver also needed to know:

    Where to?

    We put him on pause while

    I equivocated. 

     “I haven’t seen her in so long,

    The connection’s fogged.”

    The only thing I knew for sure was

    Mirabel must hate Ravi just like I did.

    “I need to get to know her again.”

    “Tell me where to go,” said Verne.

    Then he invoked the magic words.

    “I’ll do anything.”

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 6 –

     Alt-Mirabel

    To be around Verne

    Was to feel

    Too many emotions at once –

    I almost don’t want to remember them.

    Depression, disgust, anger,

    Amazement.

    Safe to say

    I’m not “alt-Mirabel”

    And never will be.

    When my journey began it’s true

    I vaguely envied Mirabel 

    Enjoyed imagining

    The Perfect Life –

    How delicious doing only

    What you want!

    Some relief to feel above it all! 

    But now I saw her slavery.

    Still conundrums proliferate.

    How and where had Mirabel

     Learned to pretend so effectively?

    Had she studied foxing Mom and Dad and

    Turned it into outwitting this

    Aristocratic partial-wit?

    He who declared that;

    Thesis, antithesis

    Synthesis – so, if I’m not Mirabel

    I must be her opposite.

    His definition for rivalry.

    Girlfight!

    Naturally that explains

     Why he tried to kiss me.

    What can The Real Richenda say to

    A man so uninterested in her existence?

    “I’m changing,” I said abruptly.

    “Getting out of this idiotic dress.”

     “The car’s downstairs,” said Verne. 

    “You don’t have time.

    He’ll take us where she went.”

    “Go without me,”

    I said. “I’m changing.”

    A clash of wills;

    How did I know he wouldn’t?

    I joined them downstairs

    Wearing my oldest jeans and my Three Mad Cats

    T-shirt -turned out Mirabel had gone to

    Brooklyn, apparently – it seemed a long, long way.

    The driver was unhelpful – Mirabel’d said nothing and

    He was a glum fellow taken for

    Himself. We halted in the warehouse district. 

    Verne coaxed him to wait while we stepped out of the car.

    Pessimism was back.

    “Nothing here. I hoped she’d get sloppy.”

    I had my own ideas.

    Looking for the “other man”

    Verne forgot the critical

    Importance of staging areas; or perhaps

    He never knew – maybe he’s

    The kind of guy who thinks

    Women awake made up for him

    .

    Behind one of these doors could there be a place

    Where she changed from one facade to the next –

    But they were all unlabeled –

    No numbers, no doorbells,

    Broken-looking speaker units.

    Impossible to tell.

    But the psychic bond persisted.

    I was beginning to get a sense of her –

    Inhaled like faint perfume –

    My confidence conferred a heady power.

    I wasn’t alt-Mirabel

    But I did feel I knew her

    Better than he did;

    I’d seen her just beginning

    Before she polished up her act

    And took it on the road.

    The question was never –

    When did Mirabel get so wily? I felt

    She’d always been this way – but

    Now I wondered;

    Had her plans EVER

    Included us?

     “Maybe she met another car,”

    Verne offered, 

    “Parked somewhere out of sight.”

    That nemesis of his again – he preferred 

    A universe of dastard rivals. 

    We savored the possibility.

    The night was silent.

    “Well, who?” I asked.

    Verne sighed.

    “One chance left,” he said. “Humiliation, but 

    What have I got to lose?”

    I think he had already lost it

    But said nothing.

    Looking him up and down

    I wondered idly how many on this planet –

    Four fifths? Two thirds?

    Would trade places with this guy.

    My mother’s drill-sergeant voice snapped

    Inside my head, demanding he “buck up.”

    He gave the driver an address on the Upper East Side 

    And we settled in for another 

    Lengthy ride.

    “So…where are we going?”

    “Mirabel had a job – personal assistant to…

    This man and they

    Were friends. Too close for me.

    He might know something.”

    “Was he invited to the wedding?”

    Inquire I.  Ingenuously.

    “No. His wife thought they

    Were too close too. Let’s say I thought

    He dismissed her with

    An overly generous gift.”

    Aha. Torn between rich men,

    And only one of them

    Unmarried.

    Picture becoming clearer. 

    Verne drummed his fingers,

    Grim but seeming cheered.

    “She might be there. If we take him by surprise.”

    His eyes raked me over.

    “You were smart to change.

    Sorry for rushing you.

    Button up your coat. I want to

    Push you front and center.”

    I understood he

    Prepared to use the

    Adolescence; familial relationship 

    So recently forgotten –

    He had the nerve to congratulate me

    For dressing down to

    Young and vulnerable.

    Really they deserved each other.

    “He won’t care

    About me – I’m just the jilted bridegroom – 

    I’m sure she complained about me to him

    Just as she complained to me about him – but

    He’ll be interested in you.”

    Hmm. Yes. Abandoned sister. 

    The suburbs were dull but the city’s

    Charm now seemed theatrical; everyone required

    To play roles.

    Hilariously, both these men

    Would look to me for clues to who

    Mirabel had been.

    At another golden barracks

    The doorman demanded the

    Purpose of our visit. 

    Verne said, “Emergency.” 

    He flashed a picture 

    From his phone. “Seen this girl tonight?”

    The man shook his head, consulting his service phone.

    “Penthouse Suite. Mr. Kruptupian will see you now.”

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Zen for Your Inner Cat with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 14

    Today the Universe Alerts You – You have a legal issue. Do you have a secret life? Most people do and Purrsons definitely do, because we contain multiples. Are you a bit of an alley cat? Have you been stepping over lines in public or private? Remember, lawbreakers break themselves.

    Do You Dream of Judges? Lawyers? Court? Are you obsessed with TV programs about justice? When justice is delayed or denied, do you obsess about that? Have you been feeling unjustly punished? Do you envy or rage against those who have “gotten away with something”?

    Purrson’s Desire for Justice is Hardwired – Just as our desire for freedom is factory installed, so is our demand for fairness. Do you envy or rage against those who have “gotten away with something”?  Think: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” In my view, the mere concept of Complete Justice is heaven enough. We are repeatedly warned that it won’t ever match our earthly ideologies, that we are children scrapping in a sandbox who haven’t noticed, much less comprehended, the real issues.

    What Is Our Armor? – What laws resonate with you? Do you believe in karma? How would you define it? What laws make you angry? Which laws would you modify? What is your attitude towards the police – protectors of order or agents of mayhem? Dick Nixon was famous for talking endlessly about “restoring law and order” until just before he was forced to resign because of multiple crimes. Many Trump followers insist everything Trump has done is “justified because Democrats are worse.” Is this a race to the bottom? Where’s the off-ramp?

    Purrson Danger – “Judge not lest ye be judged” is a scary proposition. How would we come off if our standards were used against us? Come to think of it, what are our standards? Are they fluid? Flexible? Jesus also said the “letter” i.e. “written rule” KILLS. That it’s the “spirit that gives life.”

    Law Is Our Armor – Purrsons dream of a “spirit-filled” Law. Maybe you wanted to go to Law School but life intervened. It’s never too late to study any subject that’s close to our heart. We become Purrsons because we wish for heroes; I think that’s the sole reason for the wild popularity of the Marvel movie series.

    Do You Admire Heroes Because They Break the Rules, or because they uphold them? We acknowledge the need for rules, but how can we make sure they’re “spirit-filled”?  In what areas of your life are you too rigid? In which are you too flexible? Imagine yourself speaking in court, making a case for yourself. What arguments would you give? Ask your dreams to start imagining a Justice World. How would it look?

    Models & Mentors – “Law is not law if it violates the principles of eternal justice” – Lydia Maria Child

    “The only stable state is one where all are equal before the law” – Aristotle

    “Law is the public conscience” – Thomas Hobbes

    ‘Able in argument, accurate in analysis, strict in study, candid with clients and honest with adversaries, today I shall not, to win a point, lose my soul” – St. Thomas More

    “If we desire respect for the law, we must make law respectable” – Louis D. Brandeis

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Zen for Your Inner Kitty with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 11

    Today You’re Upside Down – You need a re-set. Your operating instructions must be faulty. But where did they go wrong? That is what we must figure out. Do you find yourself frequently fantasizing about some magic dissolution of “the rules” to benefit only you?  

    The problem with mirages – especially those we long to believe in – is that they become illusions. Falsehoods. We need so desperately to cling to an obvious fantasy we willingly surrender our ability to discern fact from fiction.

    Illusions are Powerful – The seventeenth century Dutch needed a desirable luxury exchange item the privileged could trade back and forth for status reasons. Yes, that was the tulip bulb. It was a bubble – of course– the bottom fell out – of course – and left a whole lot of previously comfortable people bankrupt. We don’t have anything like that, these days, do we? Or do we? People are rushing to invest in crypto because of its complete lack of regulation. But without rules, it’s laughably easy to steal people’s money without accountability or recourse.

    We’re All Rubes Here – Some people are investing in admittedly worthless “tokens” – just in case they go up in value. Does anyone remember the Beanie Baby craze? I had a friend who stored Mrs. Butterworth bottles in her basement – she had a basement FULL of Mrs. Butterworth bottles – because they were just BOUND to be worth something – someday. Have you seen what happens when everyone runs to the same side of the ferryboat? It tips them into the water! Successful investing involves being where the crowd isn’t – before they get there. That takes careful research. Relying on luck and chance is a fool’s game. 

    Pump & Dump Schemes – entice the unwary to “Get in on the ground floor.” But they’re just selling something worthless and they want you to bail them out. Bad decision making or deliberate manipulation?

    Some Illusions Are Life Strengthening – Others are Life-Depleting.

    I can’t stress this strongly enough: Purrsons Need to Avoid Fantasy Thinking. In spite of the fact that we think we are cats, Purrsons actually traffic in reality. We create worthwhile magic, the kind that protects and enhances – so we can’t be deceived by the “dark arts” that punish and stigmatize. Your map must represent actual ground, not pie in the sky, or you won’t be able to maneuver across it. When a mirage evolves into an illusion a delusion is created.

    Illusions Become Delusions – Delusions are a “fixed false belief resistant to reason; a distortion of reality to which the victim clings fiercely, even in the face of visible harm. The Buddhists say life itself is an illusion. But they mean that metaphorically, to keep you from become “attached” to the “ephemeral.”  Take the example of clinging to “fake food” and pushing away nutrition. Like any addict, we deny what our own bodies tell us; that we are “allergic” to this consumption.  When Purrsons end up battling FOR falsity – it’s the worst of all possible situations.

    Purrson Challenge – Let’s learn to enjoy facing facts. Enjoy reality as a bracing polar dip.  Do you find yourself trapped by an illusion that you used to need but now is killing you? You can identify this by your increasing suffering over an increasingly problematic existence and your diminishing pleasure over things that used to be reliable joys. Is it a relationship? An activity? A belief? Look at the problem honestly. Find others going through the same experience and generate frank discussion.

    Flying Monkeys Abound – If any group member rushes in defensively to shame and discourage you, to convince you you’re not feeling or understanding what you KNOW you ARE feeling and understanding then realize you’re being gaslighted.  That means that what you’re trying to exit is a “cult” that is NOT devoted to the health of its members but to their diminishment and co-option. Stop communicating with those flying monkeys and find somebody who supports the truth of your actual experience AND your desire to feel better.

    Purrson Danger – The path to re-making yourself is fraught with danger and you will require all sorts of help. Don’t be discouraged if your feelings are volatile and transitory and you are confused about their reality. Move slowly, consulting Models & Mentors – kind others who respect your autonomy, individuality and with whom you feel safe.

    Purrson Opportunity –  Relax! Purrsons will become adept at shifting vision from night vision to day vision, forward and backwards through time, manifesting others’ auras until we can see and harmonize with possibility and love.

    We Transform Illusion Through Skill – The impossible takes longer, because language is not as flexible as reality. You are embarked on an exciting growth challenge where you leave a constricting carapace behind. Sometimes the “shell” was protective and served for a time to keep you safe while you matured. You don’t need to disparage the old you, or the old relationship; it served its purpose. Often people who have been through a trauma say afterwards they wouldn’t change the past, because they treasure and embrace the person they’ve become.

    Models & Mentors – “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours” – Richard Bach

    “The world is an illusion we must take seriously.”

    – Aldous Huxley

    “The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion – the tunnel’s the illusion” – Alysse Aallyn

    “Separation from each other is an optical illusion of reality” – Albert Einstein

    ‘Limit, like fear, is often an illusion” – Michael Jordan

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Zen for Your Inner Kitty with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 7

    The Stars Agree – You are suffering from an entanglement. An ensnarement in which you are sadly complicit. You don’t think you can escape, so you don’t try. You are afraid that the benefits of your slavery outweigh the joy of freedom. But the imprisonment you do so much to conceal is slowly strangling you – to death.

    Do you fear abandonment?  Have you always been afraid of being alone? In ou Purrson Universal Horoscope, the Clinging Vine archetype reminds us of all of the unpleasant aspects of needing others’ constant support to function.  A clinging vine can’t stand up by itself, it needs an immoveable shoulder to fasten upon. Whose power are you increasing while yours wilts away?

    Americans cultivate the fantasy of independence and self-determination. It’s just too threatening to imagine what might happen if the wall we’ve been covertly clinging to, suddenly comes down.

    Purrsons Require Freedom of Action – We must be dependent on society for basic functions. At what point does mutual dependency become constrictive? What is your supposedly stalwart support dependent upon?  Why have you become locked into a position of support for someone else?

    Who Benefits? Is the cry of the detective when solving a crime – and trust the Universe – your imprisonment is a crime. Look around you. Who’s fat and happy and smiling all the time? Who’s lecturing others about how to knuckle under, a thing they themselves would never do?

    Purrsons Must Define Freedom in Their Relationships – Your freedom requires that you learn to recognize and resist parasitic and exploitive relationships where the benefits are unbalanced. 

    Get Smart. No need to over-react now with rage, humiliation and personal offense. Start drawing boundaries. Look behind your wall to see what supports it and to view the wide, wide world outside. Teaching any clinging vine to stand up for itself is doing it a favor.

    No One Stands Alone – The truth is, we’re all in this together. Billionaires, leaders, CEO’s, all actually need much more support than we ordinary beings fending for ourselves. But they always insist on maintaining their freedom of action – for good reason. 

    Don’t make destructive deals involving your future. Purrsons need to Become Immortal so their futures are always a poignant mystery.  We are responsive to the fluttering of butterfly wings as well as the shifting of tectonic plates. Divest yourself of pointless, (usually “inherited”) shame (from the collective unconscious) and simply acknowledge the obvious truth that humans are, for good and ill, social creatures.

    Life Is a Negotiation – Make an experiment of listing your dependencies – bank, mail system, social security? Vehicle, gas availability, fuel affordability? Grocery stores, restaurants, our own two ambulatory feet? Weather, peace, law enforcement?

    Recognize the Fragility of These Systems. Confronting fear creates some ruthlessness but Purrsons will never check their brains at the door. We are strategic, planning, evolving. Our maps will always need an update and a redesign.

    Purrson Challenge – Are we hanging ourselves in loops of dependency? How can we free ourselves? What could we do to claim more psychic and physical independence? While Mormons may require a “year’s worth” of canned goods in the basement, the rest of us recognize the need for an emergency savings account. We are beginning to understand how a threatened supply chain can snap. Begin imagining some future failure scenarios and hash out the possibilities; if the elevator fails, is it possible to take the stairs? Your dream life will reward you with a lessening of existential anxiety.

    Models & Mentors –  “Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm” – Alysse Aallyn

    “Fear is the memory of pain. Addiction is the memory of pleasure. Freedom is beyond both.” – Anonymous

    “Don’t work harder on someone else’s problems than they do” – Ross Rosenberg

    “Enjoy togetherness but allow space. Respect differing beliefs. Accept, don’t try to change each other. Appreciate the other, but always be prepared to survive alone” – Darlene Lancer

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Kitty Horoscope with Alysse Aallyn

    Jan 31

    Universal Warning – Uh Oh!  The stars shiver in their courses. Do you dream of masked balls? Betrayals? Loved and known faces inexplicably turning demonic? People becoming animals? Mazes and puzzles that melt and change? They don’t call it “catfishing” for nothing.

    Cats are not the only creatures using illusion for the purposes of seduction, and seduction is not the only advantage offered by False Love.  The Target is unilaterally disabled by relying on something that isn’t real. The False Lover lives in a shifting Potemkin Village of mirrors.  Often, we feel in our gut that “something isn’t right.”

    Purrsons Stay Alert – Face it, cat-like as you are, you’re still human. You’ve been catfished. You’ve been gaslit. “All’s fair in love and war” means the Purrson must always be on game. 

    Pretenders want to drag you into their web of deception by making it seem alluring.  You’ll get so many benefits if you just step inside! But once inside it turns out they want you to feel complicit; you can’t escape, you can’t let anyone know, because it’s too too too humiliating. You are fated, now, only to deceive others in your turn. Reject this. Remember: resistance is never futile.

    Purrsons Know When to Cut Losses – Just as the deceptive catfish forces the lazy cod to keep moving (and improving!) when they would rather lie sluggishly on the bottom, the False Lover actually IMPROVES our game. Time to realize we are part of a complex universe where wings disguise themselves as eyes and flowers turn out to be chameleons. Conserve your energy. Others wish to capture your power and use it for their own fuel. Get smart. Don’t let them.

    Purrsons Are Careful with Deception – You can’t tell the truth to everybody, all the time.  Conserve your facts, reserve your strategy. You are entitled to privacy and security but be careful with deception. Deceivers restrict everyone’s options.

    Purrsons Battle for the Universe Itself, Not Momentary Gain. Humans are more than energy. Love is more than fuel, it is living water as well as unquenchable fire. It is more than worth your while to hold out for the Real Thing. Real Love stands the test of Time. We are playing this game to get to the next level, and you can’t do that with such a narrow view of existence, where all of Creation is means to an end – the end being You, slick and fat, lying sluggish at the bottom of the Universe. Purrsons are commanded to Rise, and so we will.

    Purrsons Seek Ultimate Reality – Expand your inner and outer vision. We are multidimensional beings and our emotions – our very orgasms – can become multidimensional as well when we appreciate the historic, the inter-generational, the cosmic ramifications of everything we do and think and are. The marriage service talks about hanging in there through sickness and poverty, and it is a proven fact that people who have been through terrible experiences have a deeper connection. It becomes a secret language others just don’t “understand”. When you have children, you gain the ability to live through them – this is a multi-player, multi-avatar game! Life itself can be a terrible (as well as wonderful) experience. So buckle up! Those who are not alert will be eaten.

    Models & Mentors – “Remember sometimes not getting what you want can be a wonderful stroke of luck”

    – Dalai Lama

    “Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. Let it go.” – Nikita Gill

    “Don’t waste your love on someone who doesn’t value it” – Wm Shakespeare

    “Temporary people teach permanent lessons” – Alysse Aallyn

    “Love dies of wounds, errors and betrayals” – Anais Nin

    “Attitude toward gratitude defines a person” – Eli Wiesel

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Horoscope for the Cat In You with Alysse Aallyn

    Jan 29

    Today the Universe Reassures You – All suffering comes to an end.  Your depression will lift. You can master the cycle. The future awaits.

    Purrsons Know “This too shall pass”  – Like it or not, we serve the future. Every dream is followed by an awakening which is followed by another dream.  In the moment of relief from the fear and the tension that preceded it we are still shaking from the experience we went through. We are in no condition to make decisions. We are just so grateful that it is over. What is required of us, however, is appreciation and understanding of the cycle. We are surfing, whether we like it or not. Another wave will come. Purrsons learn how to ride it.

    Purrson Challenge – To rise above the cycle, take an honest look at it. This is hard to do when we are quivering and feeling victimized but it is necessary. What pattern do you see?  The surfing analogy is a good one because the tides are not rhythmic nor perfectly predictable, and they are CERTAINLY not “personal” plus we always know another wave will be coming along soon.

    Purrson Strategy – Sometimes there’s a way out; we can change jobs, switch professions, get a divorce. Figure out where the pressure is coming from. Assess your abilities. What parts are you good at? Where do you suck? Can you enjoy any of this? How can your performance be improved? Most of us take pleasure in things we are good at. Can your enjoyment be deepened?

    We’re Never Helpless –  Learned helplessness is real. People give up, stop trying to game or even understand the system. They lie down under the shocks, no longer even trying to escape, waiting for death. Never believe “Resistance is futile.” Don’t succumb.

    Purrsons Win –This game is bigger than our mortal understanding.  Nevertheless, you can comprehend the majesty of what we are up against and appreciate it as a knife appreciates the whetstone.  We learn through analogy, we remember through stories.

    Purrsons Are Free – Purrsons can always improve, becoming graceful, competent athletes of this mortal existence until we graduate into the next sphere.

    Purrsons Roll with the Punches – You can change and affect your fate. But you must roll with the punches. When Jesus says, “Resist not evil” he means, allow evil to roll over you and smash itself against your non-resistance. Studying martial arts increases our knowledge of how to manage, subvert, outwit, outwait and overcome Superior Force.

    Buddy Power – Friends, allies, buddies, sensei, even dead or fictional characters can be summoned to your aid. People choose such different characters as St. Francis, Sherlock Holmes, Mother Theresa, Joan of Arc, Mulan, Buddha and Jesus to be their “Dream buddies.” Some are more comfortable with an animal – your personal power creature; the jaguar, wolf, eagle or wolverine.

    Change Dream Buddies based on the problem confronting you. Ask their help before you go to sleep, solicit them to come to you in dreams to shed light upon your difficulty. Then the next morning, start writing and remembering the moment you wake up. Some key dreams take a lifetime to decipher.

    Models & Mentors – “Worry is like a rocking chair – it gives you something to do but you never get anywhere”

    – Erma Bombeck

    “For fast acting relief, try slowing down” – Lily Tomlin

    “Happiness is the relief after extreme tension”

    – F. Scott Fitzgerald

    “Laughter is the tonic, the release, the surcease of pain” – Charlie Chaplin