Episode 12: Thy Ink Heart

Episode 12

Thy Ink Heart

“Welcome to the Historic Society, may I help with anything?” Jennifer asks, the woman who had just walked through the door, after having put down her book. She glances at the clock, as the woman walks over... at least it's almost lunch time.

Once at the counter, the woman lazily picks at the red flower arrangement, on Jennifer's left, before speaking.

“I was looking to arrange a hike... for my family and I.” She says, with a smile.

Jennifer informs her about the different hiking trails, their procedures and safety regulations and hands her the paperwork to fill in.

“This is what my life has been reduced to,” Jennifer says dramatically, as the woman ticks boxes and signs forms. “Answering phones and arranging hiking trails. Needless to say, that Ms Cole felt it necessary to let me go, loopy handwriting and all.”

The client hands back the paperwork and confirms the date arranged on paper with Jennifer, who types it up and takes care of the transaction for the deposit of their two-day hike.

“My parents weren't happy with me either and, for some reason, didn't believe my side of the story, just like Ms Cole. And, seeing as the Historic Society's receptionist is on maternity leave, my father suggested that I fill the position – my mum and her colleagues were rather shorthanded.”

Jennifer looks at the clock again, it's placed on the wall to her left, above the sketch of Mecha Falls. Marsha had made the sketch herself, she used to be a very talented person – some people even believe that the lullabies she used to sing to her children were of her own creation also.

To Jennifer's surprise, she had found that receptionists didn't have a lot to do, other than the occasional phone call, curious tourist and or booking of a hiking trip. She'd opted for daily library visits and had read more books in the past week than she had thought possible.

Jennifer picks up the book again and continues to read.

“Only in books could you find pity, comfort, happiness and love...” Is the next sentence Jennifer reads and, suddenly, she slams the book shut, placing it next to her on the desk. Yesterday, at the library, Jennifer had settled on Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke, and it had been an absolutely wonderful read, up until that sentence.

“Only in books could you find pity, comfort, happiness and love,” Jennifer repeats to herself, more than to her reader.

“Authors have no idea what they're talking about, most of the time. They have no idea what it's like to be a character. Let me tell you what a character is, a character is someone who is created for nothing more than the entertainment of others. Our lives are as long as the slowest reading speed, we are put on display and our stories soled for profit. It's not a reader that should find pity in a book, but a book that should find pity in a reader. The only comfort we have is knowing that, at least, our story is being read.”

Jennifer was not happy, for you see, over the last few days she'd been doing a bit of thinking.

Thinking about this and that, about lies and truth, about puns and parodies, and concluded that her entire story must be that of a parody – nothing more than a humorous reply to piece of true literature.

Because of this conclusion, she had gotten very angry with her author and the idea of authors in general. Honestly Jennifer should not, in fact, have been reading at all – for she would find nothing an author did right at this point.

“Jenny? Could you... ahh. Never mind,” She hears Alice Swift from somewhere in the back. But, before Jennifer can manage an answer, a red-faced Alice swiftly walks into the room. She leans with both her arms on the counter and picks at the flower arrangement before speaking. Alice is about the same age as Jennifer's mother and has a daughter of her own. If Jennifer's assumptions are correct, Alice's daughter is about a year or two older, but she's not entirely sure.

“Please tell me that Megan showed you how to work that wretched copy machine before her leave,” She says, clearly trying to keep herself calm.

“She did,” Jennifer answers hesitantly. Mrs Marshal did show her how to use the machine, but she's heard of the thing's glitchy history and would not know how to work it once it is in one of its moods.

“Wonderful!” She says and hands Jennifer a stack of papers. “I need three copies of these. If the monster is being moody, it's fine, I just need the copies by end of day.”

For a second Mrs Swift looks at Jennifer. “You look a lot like your mum, when she was your age,” She says and smiles. “Thanks for the help.” And, then disappears just as fast as she had appeared in the first place.

Jennifer looks at the stack of papers. She looks at the clock.

It is almost lunch time and, honestly, Jennifer doesn't want to struggle with the copy machine... she could just take the papers with her and have the stationary shop in town make the copies for her.

For a good while she seriously considers it and continues on with her reading, before remembering Enoch and the way they had left things.

She closes her the book for a second time. His accusations were that she only ever thought about herself. She looks at the papers and feels the overwhelming urge to role her eyes. For a good long time Jennifer had been mad at Enoch because he wanted her to change, but, looking back now, Jennifer realizes something. He didn't want her to change, he wanted her to progress as a character and, ironically, she had held that against him.

With a heavy sigh, Jennifer stands up out of her chair, grabs the papers and walks into the back room where the malevolent machine is housed.

“Into the woods we go,” Jennifer says, having accepted the fact that Enoch was right and the result thereof – that she had indeed been wrong.

Jennifer places the stack of papers on the little ramp, ready to be fed into the copy machine, and presses the buttons that Mrs Marshal had shown her – only to receive no response.

Jennifer quickly glances around, out the door to the front desk, and gives the machine a stern kick. The machine immediately responds and starts taking in page after page, feeding out the copies shortly after. Mrs Marshal was the only one who had formed a clear understanding with the office equipment, especially the copy machine, and had told Jennifer her secret before leaving. “Just like people, these machines sometimes need a good slap,” Jennifer remembers her saying.

Satisfied with the result, Jennifer takes all the papers back to the front desk with a smile. She takes her seat just as the phone starts to ring. She picks it up and wedges it between her ear and her shoulder, as she reviews the machine's work.

At first the pages look good, but the further along Jennifer goes, the less the ink gets...

After having booked a horse trail for three, Jennifer gets up once again and walks over to the back. The copy machine must have run out of ink halfway through its job...

Accepting the situation, Jennifer looks at the machine from side to side. Jennifer has to replace the cartridges, but where? She folds her arms across her chest and heaves out a long breath. She knows where the replacement cartridges are kept, but how do you...

Several Google searches later, Jennifer has figured out where the cartridges go. To say that the contraption wasn't in a cooperative mood was an understatement.

About an hour later, Jennifer's hands are covered in ink, as well as the entire back room and front desk – from running between the two rooms, answering phones and booking trips while doing everything to get the machine to work.

In the end, the copies were made and that was all that mattered to Jennifer.

Before cleaning up, Jennifer takes a seat at the front desk and allows herself to just breathe before assessing the damage.

Jennifer looks around the room, the entire foyer of the Historic Society is decorated with Marsha's sketches of the town, the buildings, a few people and, after all that, she took the time to jot down all the surnames of the original founding members of Mecha Falls as well.

Marsha had loopy handwriting too and nobody seemed to have a problem with it then.

Jennifer sighs and, reads through the surnames of the founding families. She reads past Anderson, past Hudstone, Keller and Knight, all the way through Naud and Nikkel and down, down, down to Weppler.

People rarely leave Mecha Falls and even fewer come from other places to live there. Naturally there are exceptions to this rule, take Mr and Mrs Reilly for example. They are the type of crazy that would decide to move there for good or, at least, that's the way it seems.

She looks down at her hands, folded in her lap and covered with ink, and starts to smile at the sight.

“Knowing is horrible,” She tells her reader. “They look- and feel real, but my hands are nothing more than ink and paper. Sometimes I forget that I am nothing more than words in front of your eyes. It's not blood that flows through my veins, but ink. I have an ink heart, fictional and flawed, desperate in nature – desperate to not be forgotten, desperate to please people, desperate to be real, desperate to be remembered.”

Jennifer takes a breath and looks away from her hands. She looks at the flower arrangement – vibrant, alive, beautiful. But the sight saddens her.

“This entire world, in all its glory, is created by nothing more than words and that scares me – for if words can build a world, how much more can they do? If words hold the power to create all of this, then people should take caution in what they say.” For a while she thinks about Tessa, thinks about her words, and reminds herself about her promise – next time she will remember not to do what Tessa has done. Jennifer herself has been careless with words and has taken them for granted. Words are weapons and can cut deeper than any blade.

Jennifer reads through the list of names again – all of them dead, but all still somehow alive.

“All of them live on in memories and, some, in books, but most of the time one is only remembered by one’s actions. I don't want to be remembered for what I've done so far...”

“Goodness!” Mrs Swift says, interrupting Jennifer's train of thought, as she enters the room. “What on Earth have you done?”

Jennifer looks around the room. There are ink smudges everywhere – on the phone, computer, tabletop, all over Jennifer and the back room as well, but at least she managed to do the paperwork and keep it clean in the process.

“The monster might have posed a bit of a challenge,” Is all Jennifer says shyly, as Mrs Swift angrily places her hands on her hips.

***

“Jennifer, darling, you sure know how to screw up!” Jennifer says to herself as she walks angrily down the main street.

“You just had to try and be nice, hadn't you? You couldn't just have walked downtown and avoided this whole mess, no, Jennifer Penelope Hudstone could not, in fact, have done the sensible thing, but rather chose to...” And then she let out a yell of pure frustration, to which no one turned around or bats an eye – for even that they didn't hear, which makes her even angrier.

All she wanted to do was help, all she wanted to do was be good and even that she messed up. Mrs Swift sent her home early, but what is Jennifer to do? She's not going to do homework, she's more than on schedule, and going home to simply do nothing is out of the question also. The Grind is not even an option and it's too late in the day to go for a proper hike.

Jennifer takes a seat on a park bench next to the sidewalk, after angrily throwing down her backpack, burying her face in her hands as though she were trying to drown herself in shallow water.

Jennifer can't even track down Enoch. Enoch and his family had gone to visit his Grandmother a few days ago and wouldn't be back for another week.

Jennifer and Enoch weren't on the best of terms, but him leaving had left Jennifer lonely and desperate for company. This is what had driven her into the arms of books and the company of other characters in the first place. But, honestly, Jennifer doesn't want to spend the afternoon reading. She doesn't want to keep staring at a book – the likeness of the prison which she is trapped in.

Over the past few days, Jennifer's done a lot of thinking, thinking about this and that and she's come to the conclusion that she's probably stuck somewhere on page 95 of her story and going absolutely nowhere.

After letting out a long sigh, another few minutes and one-strapping her backpack, Jennifer decides to head to the library despite the fact that she doesn't want to be reading. No one ever said that she would have to read once she got there. No one said that she would have to brows the shelves or get a new book either, Jennifer could just sit in the silence and watch the people. The library is the only place that Jennifer truly feels like she belongs.

On the way to the library, Jennifer lets her mind wonder, but no matter where her thoughts start, they always lead her straight back to Enoch. Jennifer doesn't understand why she's thinking about him, but then just chocks the whole thing up to the fact that he is the only friend she has left.

As always, Jennifer looks up at the large building in front of her before walking in.

Once inside, Jennifer takes a seat at the table where she and Enoch had decoded the Author's Advocate letter. She sits in silence for a few minutes, looking at the people, looking at the books, and falling back into the habit of thinking. But, before long, she hears a tapping behind her. Turning around in her chair, Jennifer finds the sparrow looking at her from the other side of the window.

Curious little bird.

Jennifer turns back and looks at a man, in a yellow shirt, as he browses a shelf. For a while she looks at the man, only to look away and find that the librarian, Ms H, is looking pointedly at her over the rim of her coffee cup.

Jennifer's eyes grow wide and she quickly scrambles to get something out of her bag, anything to look busy. Ms H is a rather strict woman and, by the flowers in the field, one wouldn't want to be on her bad side.

The first thing her hand pulls from her bag is a note pad, so she quickly digs out a pen as well and starts drawing little flowers in the margin. Feeling less guilty, now that she looks busy, her mind starts to wonder again – it follows its usual trail and ends at Enoch. Then a sudden realization flashes through her mind, she knows why she's been thinking about Enoch! Jennifer feels guilty – guilty about the way she bugged him in class, guilty about the way she acted and guilty about the way she treated him in general. She should give him a call and apologize, but just as she starts to take out her phone, she spots Ms H glaring at her again and rather puts it away.

Jennifer quickly decides to write him a letter instead, a letter in which she apologizes for everything she did – she hadn't been a very good friend.

Fictional or not, she knows she had to grow, and growth is sometimes painful – and sometimes it’s as torturous as having to admit that one was indeed wrong and sincerely asking to be forgiven.