The Sisters of Beneficent Misery orphanage and girls\u2019 school sat precariously at the very top of the only hill in Orangeville. When Rita saw it for the first time, from the outskirts of the town, she thought it was about to topple over. It looked like such a shithole she nearly started to cry.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus-Christ-Mary-Mother-of-God,\u201d she said. \u201cThat\u2019s the dump you\u2019re going to ditch me in?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRita!\u201d snapped Auntie Margie. \u201cWatch your fucking mouth!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God,\u201d moaned Rita. \u201cIt looks like a prison, or a mortuary, or a lunatic asylum. I\u2019m going to die of typhus in there. While you\u2019re getting drunk at the Legion I\u2019m going to die of typhus. It\u2019s a certainty: I\u2019m going to get typhus and die.\u201d<\/p>\n
Auntie Margie scrabbled around in her handbag for her smokes and ended up spilling cigarettes all over the vinyl seat.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a couple of hours more,\u201d she muttered and jammed the lighter into the dashboard, \u201ca couple hours more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rita glared out the window at all the clapboard houses with their neat lawns and their picket fences.<\/p>\n
They pulled up at a four-way and a kid on a banana-seat sat at the corner staring at her. She gave him the finger.
\n<\/p>\n
A tall, slow-moving sister called Martha showed Rita her bed and left her in the room. There were five other beds, a crucifix hanging over every one. A single dusty shaft of light shone down on the warped floorboards from a narrow window high up the wall. Rita dropped her bag on the floor and threw herself facedown onto the itchy blanket. The pillow smelled like a hospital. A fly was battering its head on the window: buzz-buzz-bump, buzz-buzz-bump, buzz-buzz-bump. Rita lay there for about fifteen minutes before a bell rang. A moment later there was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs and the hall echoed with shouts and laughter. The door burst open. Rita did not open her eyes.<\/p>\n
Buzz-buzz-bump. Buzz-buzz-bump.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the new girl,\u201d someone whispered and Rita lay perfectly still.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s asleep,\u201d someone else said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOr dead,\u201d squeaked a new voice.<\/p>\n
The floor creaked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOr faking,\u201d said the first voice right at her shoulder.<\/p>\n
Rita rolled over and looked at the girl standing beside her. She had blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail and was wearing a navy jumper and a tartan skirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cFaking what?\u201d she asked. \u201cBeing bored?\u201d<\/p>\n
The girl smirked at her and Rita looked at the door. Three more girls stood there, all in the same uniform.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat a bloody boring dump this place is,\u201d said Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I suppose you came from somewhere ever so much more exciting?\u201d said the blonde girl.<\/p>\n
Buzz-buzz-bump. Buzz-buzz-bump.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Rita. \u201cI did. I came from somewhere much, much, much more exciting. When\u2019s supper?\u201d she asked and sat up. \u201cI\u2019m starved.\u201d<\/p>\n
The food was so bland Rita had to keep asking for more salt. She asked five times. She was seated at the end of the table by a little girl with brown hair and thick glasses. Sitting across from her was a girl with straight black hair and dark eyes. The blonde girl was at the far end of their table opposite a tall girl with a thick thatch of dark curls.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you from, Rita?\u201d the little girl asked her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cJulia,\u201d said the little girl.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m from the North Pole, Julia,\u201d Rita replied. \u201cPass the ketchup, please.\u201d<\/p>\n
The blonde girl smirked at her again and Rita winked back.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, not quite the North Pole,\u201d she said, \u201cbut pretty close. I was born on an island in the Arctic Ocean: Ouroboros Island.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat a funny name,\u201d said Julia.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a Norwegian word,\u201d said Rita. \u201cIt\u2019s the name of a giant snake that is stretched right around the world in a big hoop and holds it all together. Ouroboros Island is where the head bites the tail.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the stupidest thing I\u2019ve ever heard,\u201d said the blonde girl.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaureen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, Maureen,\u201d said Rita. \u201cIf that\u2019s the stupidest thing you\u2019ve ever heard you should pay more attention to the crap the priests talk on Sunday morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
That night Rita watched Sister Martha out of the corner of her eye. The girls were in their nightgowns, kneeling at their beds with their hands clasped. Sister Martha was praying as well. Even when she knelt she looked long and languid. A coil of dark hair had escaped from her habit. She tucked all the other girls in before Rita. Her dark eyes glittered in the flickering fluorescent light.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho had this bed before me?\u201d Rita asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cA very wicked girl called Natasha McFadden,\u201d said Sister Martha. \u201cWho never said her prayers but just pretended.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to her?\u201d asked Rita. \u201cWhere\u2019d she go?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe snuck out of the orphanage one day,\u201d said Sister Martha, \u201cto go sledding down the back of the hill and she hit her head on a tree in the Protestant churchyard.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid it kill her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sister Martha smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe came back here,\u201d she said, \u201cand we bandaged her up and put her to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rita let herself relax.<\/p>\n
\u201cRight here,\u201d whispered Sister Martha and brushed the hair from Rita\u2019s forehead. \u201cRight in this very bed. Then Natasha McFadden fell asleep: and she never woke up.\u201d<\/p>\n
The town kids at the pool hall were telling Maureen and Rita about a movie playing at the Dreamland. It was called The Exorcist. The boys were particularly excited about the scene with the crucifix. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou Catholics,\u201d Simon Clarke said as he was lining up his shot, \u201care always getting possessed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d said Rita and stubbed out her ciggie on the back of his elbow. <\/p>\n
Simon knocked the eight ball clear off the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus Christ!\u201d he shouted. \u201cWhat the hell!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t me,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m Catholic. It was my devil.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rita dug around for another smoke and watched Maureen soothing Simon\u2019s outrage. Teddy Sutton and Mike Watters were leaning on their cues grinning. Sarah Hart was sitting on the bench, back rigid against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at Maureen. <\/p>\n
That night Rita asked Sister Martha if it was true only Catholics got possessed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho told you that?\u201d asked Sister Martha.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe town kids,\u201d said Rita and at the same time Maureen said: \u201cSimon Clarke.\u201d<\/p>\n
They were in their beds and Sister Martha was standing by the light switch.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell it\u2019s true,\u201d said Sister Martha and the girls all gasped.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid they tell you why?\u201d asked Sister Martha.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause the Protestants are going to burn anyways, so it\u2019s the Catholics the Devil wants to catch.\u201d<\/p>\n
She flicked off the light.<\/p>\n
Maureen stood on books piled up on a chair and blew smoke out the window. Lily, the tall girl with the curls sat on the unused bed in the corner with Sophia, the girl with the dark eyes and the straight black hair. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t smoke,\u201d said Lily. \u201cIt\u2019s a sin.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care,\u201d said Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd it\u2019s bad for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care about that either.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rita lowered Ripley\u2019s Believe It or Not to watch.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery night I pray that you\u2019ll stop being bad,\u201d said Lily, \u201cbecause it\u2019s my duty to try and save you from hell.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maureen ignored her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s funny, Lily,\u201d said Rita. \u201cBecause every night I pray that you\u2019ll stop being a mean judgmental bitch, and that\u2019s not working either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell us about Ouroboros Island,\u201d said Julia.<\/p>\n
Rita and Maureen were smoking behind the small brick building at the bottom of the park by the river while Julia watched them. The building had something to do with the sewers and the air down there was always funky. Mike and Teddy had covered the back of it with a spray paint scrawl of \u201cLed Zep\u201d and \u201cAC\/DC\u201d and \u201cFuck You\u201d and \u201cBoner.\u201d They had also painted a huge cock and balls on the concrete slab where the girls stood. Julia didn\u2019t like her feet to touch the thick, confident lines, but the other two didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere were no trees,\u201d said Rita. \u201cIn the summer we lived in a corrugated metal hut by the harbor and my dad would dig up teeth and knuckles from the old Viking graveyards and organize them in little plastic boxes. My mom would go hunting for seals and whales with the Eskimos. If it was raining, I\u2019d stay in the shed and read comic books or listen to the radio or build robots out of spare parts. If it was clear, I\u2019d help my Dad count bits of bones, or go out with my mom onto the blue ocean. When it was sunny it was so bright you could hardly see. It\u2019s because the air is so thin at the top of the world. The light comes smashing down in a great big wave and crashes into the water. It\u2019s like being in the middle of an explosion. You have to wear sunglasses all the time or you\u2019ll go blind.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid the robots actually work?\u201d asked Julia.<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes the wind would blow,\u201d said Rita. \u201cBut we were so close to the North Pole it was only ever the south wind. It came rushing up from the cities and the towns and countryside down below. You could smell where it came from. Indian winds all smelled like curry and cinnamon and cows; the Chinese like jasmine and tea and opium; New York like automobile exhaust and hot dogs and money, money, money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about Orangeville winds?\u201d asked Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cMost of the time they smelled like the dumpster behind the Sisters of Misery kitchen does on Sunday after the fish heads have been in it for a while, but sometimes, if they came blowing through on a rainy day, you might catch the faintest whiff of one of Mike Watters\u2019 wet farts.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThe way I want to cash out,\u201d Rita said, \u201cis spontaneous combustion.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d asked Julia<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes people catch fire for no reason,\u201d Rita said. \u201cThey burn right up. Nothing left behind but shoes, there\u2019s pictures in Ripley\u2019s Believe It or Not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt sounds like bullshit to me,\u201d Maureen didn\u2019t even look up from her magazine.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not,\u201d said Rita. \u201cIt\u2019s true. It runs in my family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d asked Maureen. \u201cIs that what happened to your folks? On Ouroboros Island? Nothing left but smoking shoes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Rita. \u201cI already told you how they died. My dad had a heart attack and when my mom found out she made herself a bright blue Drain-o cocktail.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maureen turned back to her magazine.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you want to die?\u201d Rita asked her. \u201cI\u2019m guessing you expect to expire from pleasure at the cinema while Simon Clarke finger fucks you through a double feature.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maureen flipped the page.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to drown in a swimming pool,\u201d said Julia. \u201cIn a clean, blue pool with tile around the edges and then a green lawn and palm trees and a white stone wall with broken glass on the top.\u201d<\/p>\n
No one said a word.<\/p>\n
\u201cIn a movie star\u2019s backyard,\u201d said Julia: \u201cIn Palm Springs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to die in my sleep,\u201d said Lily, \u201cwhile I\u2019m dreaming about being in heaven with my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God, Lily,\u201d said Rita. \u201cYou are such a bring-down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe way you should want to die,\u201d said Sister Martha from the door and the girls all jumped, \u201cis when you can still taste the host on your tongue, just before the wicked thoughts creep back in.\u201d <\/p>\n
When they had finally been chased into bed and Sister Martha turned off the light Lily called out to her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo all Protestants go to hell?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Sister Martha, \u201cand the Atheists and the Jews and Catholics lukewarm in their faith.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs there nothing we can do to save them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can baptize them as they die,\u201d said Sister Martha, \u201cif they are lucky enough for you to be there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you need holy water for that?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can use whatever is at hand,\u201d said Sister Martha. \u201cWhen I was still in high school in Thunder Bay a drunk Protestant drove his car into a tree near my bus stop. He flew right through the window and landed at my feet in a pile \u2013 like a bird with a broken back. When I saw the windshield cleaning fluid leaking from the wreck I knew immediately what to do. I used it to cross his forehead and gave him his last rites. I knew it worked because he grew calm, and smiled at me, and the air was filled with scent of roses. I could hear the leaves rustle as his soul rose to heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you know he was drunk?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you know he was a Protestant?\u201d asked Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood night, girls,\u201d said Sister Martha and closed the door.<\/p>\n
Rita had followed Maureen all the way to the diner where the Greyhound stopped, arguing the whole way. They were almost finished with their plate of fries when Sister Martha came sweeping in, Julia tripping after her. Some women eating pie and drinking coffee a few tables over, shopping bags at their feet, all turned to watch<\/p>\n
\u201cJulia, you little rat,\u201d hissed Maureen. \u201cYou\u2019re so dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sister Martha looked down at her placidly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m leaving,\u201d said Maureen. \u201cI\u2019ve had enough. I hate this town, I hate school, I hate the orphanage, and I hate you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are not leaving,\u201d said Sister Martha. <\/p>\n
\u201cI am,\u201d said Maureen, and began to cry. \u201cI\u2019m leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sister Martha waited. Julia stood beside her, perspiration gleaming on her forehead, breathing heavily. Rita sucked noisily on the dregs of her float.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate you,\u201d said Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome,\u201d said Sister Martha and extend her cool, dry hand. Maureen stared at it awhile, then wiped her eyes and stood up. Sister Martha put a long arm around her.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet her bags,\u201d she said to Julia.<\/p>\n
\u201cPay the bill,\u201d she said to Rita.<\/p>\n
One of the women at the other table said: \u201cThe reason there\u2019s no Protestant orphanages in Orangeville is because Protestant girls aren\u2019t such whores that they\u2019ll open their legs for anyone who calls them pretty and can dance a two-step.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe reason there aren\u2019t any Protestant orphanages in Orangeville,\u201d Sister Martha said, Maureen tucked tightly into her side, \u201cis that when Protestant girls make a mistake their mothers take them to a crone on Albert Street who tears the mess out of their bellies with a butcher\u2019s hook and throws the poor unbaptized things into the gutter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSister Martha has not been feeling well,\u201d said the young priest and cleared his throat. They were in an otherwise empty classroom. The girls sat at desks in a rough half circle about him. He was perched on the edge of the teacher\u2019s table. <\/p>\n
\u201cNot everything she has been telling you is strictly true,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre those two claims somehow connected?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
The priest blinked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes her feeling unwell have something to do with the things she says?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, yes, I suppose you could put it like that,\u201d said the priest.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I didn\u2019t put it like that,\u201d said Rita. \u201cYou did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maureen was fluttering her eyelashes at him and chewing on her pencil.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see,\u201d said the priest. \u201cA brain can get overheated by fever, and all stirred up by anxieties, it can start producing all sorts of disconnected ideas.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDisconnected with what?\u201d asked Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy, with reality,\u201d said the priest. <\/p>\n
Maureen slid a little lower into her chair and let her knees swing open a smidge.<\/p>\n
\u201cSister Martha told us that if we ran around the church widdershins three times and stood on our heads while we recited a Hail Mary backwards then demons would appear,\u201d said Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that true, girls?\u201d the priest looked around at the others.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t know,\u201d said Maureen. \u201cWe haven\u2019t tried it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s obviously not true\u201d said the priest. \u201cI meant is it true that Sister Martha really told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike I said,\u201d said Rita: \u201cDemons.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cShe also said that Protestant babies bite their mother\u2019s boobs,\u201d said Julia, \u201cbecause they haven\u2019t been baptized and the Devil makes them do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not true either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe really did say it, Father,\u201d said Rita. \u201cWe all heard her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI meant about the babies,\u201d said the priest. \u201cIt\u2019s not true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey don\u2019t bite boobs?\u201d asked Julia.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said the priest. \u201cBut if they do it\u2019s not because the Devil made them do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas it also a lie when she told us that the priests use magic to turn wine into the blood of Christ?\u201d asked Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said the priest. \u201cIt\u2019s not a lie per se, but it isn\u2019t really the priests and it isn\u2019t really magic.\u201d<\/p>\n
The girls stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook,\u201d said the priest. \u201cWhatever it was precisely that Sister Martha told you isn\u2019t important. What is important is that if you are confused about things you come and talk to me or one of the other fathers about your concerns.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI choose you,\u201d said Maureen.<\/p>\n
\u201cSlut,\u201d said Rita under her breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d the priest frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about the sisters?\u201d asked Rita. \u201cAre they as good as a priest? Or are they all liars like Sister Martha?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSister Martha isn\u2019t a liar,\u201d said the priest.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you said\u2026\u201d began Rita and the priest cut her off.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said Sister Martha has been unwell,\u201d said the priest. \u201cShe will be leaving us shortly. And if you are confused or concerned about her behavior or the things she said please talk to any of the fathers, or, indeed, any of the sisters, and they will be happy to help you out directly or refer you to someone who can.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSister Martha said if you have carnal relations on a grave your baby will be born with second sight,\u201d said Lily. \u201cIs that true?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCertainly not,\u201d said the priest.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat only works if you do it while you\u2019re having your period,\u201d said Rita.<\/p>\n
\u201cNone of it is true,\u201d said the priest and stood up. \u201cIt\u2019s all rubbish.\u201d<\/p>\n
The girls stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo if you have any concerns,\u201d he said. \u201cAny concerns at all, please talk to me or one of the other fathers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOr sisters,\u201d added Julia.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said the priest and strode to the door, \u201cor any of the sisters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m glad we had this talk,\u201d he said and stepped out, closing it firmly behind him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat an idiot,\u201d said Maureen loudly and through the frosted glass they saw his shoulders slump.<\/p>\n
Sister Elizabeth who was old and had a German accent oversaw the girls that night. She told them Sister Martha was leaving in a day or two for Sault Ste. Marie. Rita asked if she was being sent to a lunatic asylum for a lobotomy but Sister Elizabeth didn\u2019t know what a lobotomy was. When the girls explained it to her she laughed, because she thought it one of Rita\u2019s stupid jokes. That night Rita dreamt there was a glittering black snake coiled around the orphanage, she heard Sister Martha whispering \u201cshe fell asleep and never woke up, she fell asleep and never woke up,\u201d and saw Sister Martha\u2019s dark eyes, black as a slough in the middle of the night.<\/p>\n
The next day Rita skipped breakfast to have a ciggie inside the janitor\u2019s shed. She was peering through the half open door and saw Sister Martha come out of the chapel. As Rita watched Sister Martha staggered slightly, clutched at her chest, and looked down to see white smoke rising from between the fingers of her clenched hand. The smoke crept up her throat and coiled around her head like a crown. The air was filled with the smell of roses, the perfume of them, rich and heavy and indolent. Sister Martha looked up, smiling slightly, her face glowing. Then her eyes fluttered shut, she lifted up her chin, stretched out her arms from side to side – fingers extended, and thrust out her steaming chest. Martha\u2019s secret, shining heart burst into white flame and Rita screamed. The nun began to rise into the air, rotating slowly, arms still stretched out, radiant face turned to the sky. She was singing \u201cAve Maria.\u201d There was music everywhere, falling like rain from the glorious blue heavens, pouring into the courtyard, pouring in from off the roofs of the chapel and the dormitories and offices, pouring down the brick walls into the graveled yard.<\/p>\n
Girls and teachers and administrative staff all came rushing out to see what was happening and Sister Martha, ablaze, rose higher and higher into the sky, a flaming crucifix, the music and the scent of roses trailing in her wake. Up, up, up, she rose, still rotating, still singing, until she dwindled into a point of bright light, and vanished. <\/p>\n
There was silence. A pair of shoes sat in the middle of the courtyard, Puma trainers, one on its side, the other upright, a thin trickle of black smoke rising from its open mouth.<\/p>\n
William Squirrell is a Canadian living in western Pennsylvania. His work has appeared in Monkeybicycle, Blue Monday Review, Necessary Fiction and other venues. He has work forthcoming with Daily Science Fiction and Drabblecast. More information can be found at blindsquirrell.blogspot.com<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Sisters of Beneficent Misery orphanage and girls\u2019 school sat precariously at the very top of the only hill in Orangeville. When Rita saw it for the first time, from the outskirts of the town, she thought it was about to topple over. It looked like such a shithole she nearly started to cry. \u201cJesus-Christ-Mary-Mother-of-God,\u201d …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":26257,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,3044],"tags":[3045],"class_list":["post-74653","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-21-fall-2016","tag-the-colored-lens-21-autumn-2016","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/74653","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/26257"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=74653"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/74653\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139505,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/74653\/revisions\/139505"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=74653"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=74653"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=74653"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}