Emily The Strange_ The Lost Days Part 3

[Pointing at box of junk mail. Screeching.] You can't leave that here!

PO:.

[Standing in front of door. Blocking me from leaving.] What's your story, kid? Haven't seen you around. Name?

ME:.

Earwig...Raven...Dungeon...

PO:.

Your real name.

ME:.

I don't know.

PO:.

[Laughing. Having time of his life.] Oh boy! Chief is gonna love this! Let's move. Grab your box.

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-Gotta go, the chief is ready to see me, more later.

Later Spent about an hour at the police station saying "I don't know" over and over. Turning my pockets inside out to show them I had no ID. Telling them the story of my life as I knew it (i.e., the last four days). Good times, good times. "Put that slingshot away or I'll impound it." "Wipe that frown off your face or I'll GIVE you something to frown about." Farking b.u.mwarks!

Was finally released when they got tired of hearing "I don't know" for the millionth time. Got off relatively easy, I think, with a $52 ticket for Impeding Postal Business. At first I thought it was really weird, not to mention really bad policework, that they did not check some kind of missing persons database for my picture. But then I thought about what the chief had said when he let me go: "Have your uncle come with you next time and we won't have to keep you so long." Which didn't make the least bit of sense until I thought of Uncle Attikol's Deadly Dollhouse. And how umlaut hands out stacks of cash to the police. And how the chief rubbed his fingers in that subtle "bribe me now" way when he said it.

So, they think I'm with the medicine show. Which makes me feel pretty sure I'm not from Blackrock. Also, it's not a bad alibi. Will introduce myself as Uncle Attikol's Amnesia Girl if I have any future police encounters.

Still, it was all very tiring, and I am now thinking seriously of ditching this weird town. Went down to the bus station and stared at the destinations and arrivals schedule, hoping something would sound familiar and/or appealing. Nothing.

It's scary how, when I try to think past three days ago, the only thing I can remember is the feeling of how it is to remember. Not even the whisker of an actual memory. Do I live in a city? In a cave? In a tree house? Is it weird that I'm living in a lean-to made of a refrigerator box? Am I weird? The lady in the bus station stared at me like I was weird. Do I have parents? Friends? Pets? Do they miss me? Etc. Got myself so worked up into fake-missing people who might not even exist that I even cried a little fake tear, then got irked at myself for being a baby. No point getting sentimental until I at least know what I'm missing. After all, I could be an orphan; or maybe my parents did this to me, maybe I'm better off without them.

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Later When I got over my fake-pity party, I picked up the cats at the lean-to, and then we went and roamed around the perimeter of town for a while enjoying the solitude. I kind of lost track of time, I guess. I sort of took a nap lying out there in the middle of the dust plain. When I woke up I could see all these stars. They were so great, and all I could think was, I bet I could see so many more if Blackrock would just turn out the lights for a bit.

Since I was already out on the edge of town, I decided to drop by ol' psychic Jakey's trailer and see if he was ready to cough up any interesting information about my amnesia. He was in the middle of a game.

ME:.

Hey, Moon Child, what else do you know about my amnesia?

JAKEY:.

I only know what you know. You don't know a lot.

ME:.

Do you seriously believe you have psychic powers?

J:.

Hey, wouldn't it have been nice earlier if Blackrock had just turned out the lights for a bit so you could see more stars?

ME:.

............... OK.

J:.

Also, just so you know, St. Clare's Day is some weird local holiday they have here. I mean, you didn't forget it or anything.

ME:.

OK.

J:.

Also, pretty much everyone in town works for the junk-mail company, so you might want to stop complaining about it unless you want everyone to hate you.

ME:.

I said, OK OK.

What can I say? The kid has a talent. Still, he's useless to me.

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Later Fracketing bogcarts! Just when I was feeling better about my basic knowledge of the world, I suddenly discovered I do not remember the word for a baby cat. Am afraid to ask anyone. Am afraid to discover what other common words may have been lost in the amnesia. Am hoping I don't have any casual conversations that reveal I do not know the word for a baby cat. Probably safer to avoid all casual conversations, just in case.

Later I found out that Raven has a little back room with a door that blends right into the awful wood paneling behind the counter. I spent the evening sitting as far away from her as possible, pretending to read the paper, while secretly spying. Also, keeping notes on the regulars and how long they stayed. I include a sample of my data for posterity. All names have been changed, or I guess made up, since I don't know anyone's actual name.

GRAPEY:.

4 hours 7 minutes

SIZZLE AND P PETAL:.

3 hours 9 minutes

CURLS:.

once for 5 hours and 15 minutes, again later for 3 hours and 20, then again for 4 hours and 45

HURK:.

2 hours 17 minutes

STEVE:.

between 2 and 3 hours