Delilah opened her eyes.

She was sitting in bed, wearing her favorite pair of pajamas. The need to stretch put itself upon her, the familiarity of the sun coming through the window and casting predictable rays of light across the beige carpet.

The room felt warm and comfortable. Her bedroom door was closed and so she could see the full-length mirror that hung there facing the inside of the room. It was the mirror that Mom had used to teach Delilah how to brush her hair and get ready in the morning for school on so many of those days in the past when she was really little.

Delilah stretched comfortably. She heard the soft rustle of bedsheets and opened her eyes. She was surrounded by familiar florals and tucked sweetly in her Holly Hobbie bedding.

I'm back! The wish worked!

Kicking away the covers, Delilah sprang out of bed. No time to lose. Jody was right about the magic soul rocks. They made her wish come true. Still, she had to get to Bald Hill and warn the others.

She skipped to the mirror and reached for the doorknob, as she had countless times before.

OOC: You've got me down to a tee, ST. I was going to have Delilah wish for the chance to go back and stop the snowball fight.

Delilah reached for the door knob.



Well that was weird....

Instead of the normal nickel-polished gray knob that she was used to pulling open, there was a bronze hand, sticking out. This was a door knob she had never seen before. It looked like it was itself, looking for something to grab onto. It stuck out of the door, and Delilah could see it reflected in the mirror as well. It looked old, chipped and worn, as if she had used it many, many times before.

Very weird.

Delilah cocked her head. She'd never seen a doorknob like this anywhere. She wondered if her mom had picked it up at a flea market or a yard sale. She used her right hand to open the door. Like a handshake, only instead of shaking, the girl twisted and pulled.

Delilah, twisted and pulled the door forward, like she normally would. The door handle was cool and the hand had a firm grip that was comfortable. The grip also felt familiar and secure, like a handshake that was equally as real as the kind that would be fundamentally important prior to a game on the playground with another kid.

Somehow, she new that with that opening of the door and with it, the handshake had combined elements of an agreement.

Of being.

It was as if she had agreed to some kind of rule or a set of rules, just like on the playground.

'No back-sees'

'No Penny tax.'

These phrases floated into her mind. And she knew somehow that they were relevant and were immediately applicable to the set of rules that had been agreed upon.

The door opened slowly and Delilah realized that what wasn't clear was what rules had been agreed upon, or who was the interlocutor that she had made an agreement with.

The tiny hairs along the back of Delilah's neck rose and her skin prickled over with goosebumps. All of her felt like she was picking up static electricity. She stepped through the doorway and looked back at the hand-handle half expecting to see someone there. She wiped her right hand on her pajamas as if the silent contract were a stain. It didn't make her feel any better. Wouldn't have worked anyway. That was not how deals went down on the playground.

She moved into what should have been the hallway.

"MOM? DAD? SUSAN?"

It was morning and so the lights in the hallway were off. Sun came down from the skylight int the hallway, sunshine exposing the floating dust from the carpet with raking light. Delilah heard a noise and then there was a sound of feet shuffling rapidly in the stairwell.

The receding footsteps clip-clopped down the stairs in a hurry. Delilah couldn't imagine Mom, Dad or her sister wearing such impractical shoes. As the clattering noise came to a halt, she could see the silhouette appear against the wall. A large shadow of a head with hand outstretched. It waved and then made a gesture beckoning whomever was watching to follow.

"Mo-om? Dad?"

Delilah peered down the hall. Aside from the weird doorknob, everything fit her mother's sense of décor. Home even smelled right, but the sound was off. She followed the footfalls to the staircase and saw the shadow beckoning her to come hither.

She hurried down the steps.

Delilah headed down the stairs but once she got to the bottom something jumped out in front of her.



"Hi there!" The voice came out of the puppet as appeared around the corner. Half of its body was behind the nearby wall at the bottom of the staircase and Delilah couldn't see who, if anyone was controlling it.

"You must be Delilah. DEE--LIE--LAH" The puppet said, drawing out the words to be clear in its thin, deliberate voice.

"I'm Mr. Clayton. I'm Bradford's puppet. You don't know who that is, but you will!"

There was a time when Delilah would have been delighted to see a puppet show. Old-fashioned ball jointed dolls, marionettes, dummies (like the one leering at her now), were cute and sweet and fun. The best thing about them were the big, rolling eyes and the floppy ways they could move. She wouldn't admit it in front of other kids. They might tease her for liking something so babyish. She remembered standing beside red-headed John in the snow fort just to look at the old Zoltar machine. Most of the other kids hung back, but she thought it all just a dream then. They were right to be scared.

Delilah jolted backward. Her feet stuttered back towards the carpeted staircase. Her breath felt hot and tight in her chest. A Circus Thing was in her home.

"Jody? JODY! Where are you?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." The puppet said, its mouth opening and closing with each 'no', its eyes not blinking, just staring at Delilah. The open-eyed gaze of an inanimate doll.

"Jody is back where you left her. I can show you a glimpse of her if that will make you more comfortable." The puppet raised one stiff hand to its head, a long stick protruding from its wrist extended past its waist and beyond the corner of the wall from which it emerged out of sight of Delilah's vision.

The stick moved up and down and with it the puppet's wrist--a scratching, thoughtful motion.

"Or maybe we should just get right to it! You're hear to make a wish. Because you smoked Soul Rock. That'll give you one hell of a kick!"

"But not all wishes are granted. The head man in charge decides if your wish is going to go ahead and work out. And I...well, Bradford, found a way to get inside of people's wishes sometimes, so we're kind of playing a little game here and testing out how far we can go with this!"

"Any questions so far?" The Puppet asked. Delilah wasn't familiar with many of these things that the Puppet was saying. Bradford, head man in charge, even the idea of the puppet itself was somewhat of a mystery.

Mr. Clayton raised his arm. Delilah's line of sight hesitantly followed the doll wrist to the thin rods attached. She cranes her neck to see the puppeteer behind the corner, but was too far away. Her attention snapped back to Mr. Clayton's glassy stare.

Soul Rock Wishes!

"I...The wishes are a game?" Delilah didn't quite get the message. But she understood games. "What makes a wish a winner?"

"Dunno, DEE-LIE-LAH. Dunno. That's what we're gonna find out together. If we can find out what works, then we might put it to work. Get it? Put 'make-it-work' and 'put-it-to work?' Yuccah, Yuccah!" The puppet rejoiced, self-congratulating itself on a joke.


OOC:
Delilah Rolls Occult + Composure with the Following Result - Assume Delilah is completely healed Damage-wise.

0 Successes: Delilah can't help but laugh. Delilah's player decides if  Delilah felt the joke was funny or not. This decision does not affect whether Delilah laughs.

1+ Successes: Delilah smiles.  Delilah's player decides if  Delilah felt the joke was funny or not. This decision does not affect whether Delilah smiles.