[some time later, when Kimbley is wandering down a street late at night, the radio in the window of an electronics store buzzes to life, static filling the air as the dial searches for a voice, settling on the perky tone of a radio personality.]
hello my friend!
hey did you know? theres been a really noisy witch around lately i hear
[A clatter from nearby--a toy store next door. In its window, a pink haired dancer with angelic wings sits atop a music box. it crackles with electricity and slowly begins to twirl. Its movements seem rather glitchy. Is it broken?]
she acts so sweet but i bet shes rotten to the core
just like the fog
[Another crackle of electricity, and the music box stops. The dancer's wings crack and fall off, revealing the cheap clay over the wire frame, and flaking paint. The toy maker didn't even bother to dye the dancer's roots completely, jeeze.
The radio dial moves again, this time taking the voice of contemplative child.]
you know i remember an old story about a wicked witch and her lair there she would trick others with a sweet smile and offer them sweets and drinks to stay
[a beat, the sound of static crackling in still silence]
i don't remember how it ends but this is real life not a story a place like that should not exist and in real life
. . .
you CAN do something
[There's another surge of electricity. The music box begins to twirl again, and again and again and--CRACK. A pop of electricity, and its base crumbles, sending the 'angel' tumbling.
With that, the radio static fades away, and the streets are quiet once more.]
no subject
hello my friend!
hey did you know? theres been a really noisy witch around lately i hear
[A clatter from nearby--a toy store next door. In its window, a pink haired dancer with angelic wings sits atop a music box. it crackles with electricity and slowly begins to twirl. Its movements seem rather glitchy. Is it broken?]
she acts so sweet
but i bet shes rotten to the core
just like the fog
[Another crackle of electricity, and the music box stops. The dancer's wings crack and fall off, revealing the cheap clay over the wire frame, and flaking paint. The toy maker didn't even bother to dye the dancer's roots completely, jeeze.
The radio dial moves again, this time taking the voice of contemplative child.]
you know i remember an old story
about a wicked witch and her lair
there she would trick others with a sweet smile
and offer them sweets and drinks to stay
[a beat, the sound of static crackling in still silence]
i don't remember how it ends
but this is real life not a story
a place like that should not exist
and in real life
. . .
you CAN do something
[There's another surge of electricity. The music box begins to twirl again, and again and again and--CRACK. A pop of electricity, and its base crumbles, sending the 'angel' tumbling.
With that, the radio static fades away, and the streets are quiet once more.]