Manic Pixie Dream Girl in Space

   𝙄 𝙁𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙔 𝙁𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙔 - the circumstances that led me to become this way. One moment, I'm working in a Mom-and-Pop book shop, lamenting my fate, and next I'm running through the cobblestone streets of Venice 626 with what basically amounted to a Gorgon after me. My hand linked with a lanky man with a to-die-for Irish accent telling me, in no uncertain terms, to "RUN FOR OUR BLOODY LIVES, ZIGGY!"

   "I'M TRYING, AL! BY DANU!"

   "PICK UP THE BLOODY PACE!"

   "THEY DON'T HAVE CLASSES ON RUNNING IN SCHOOL!"

   "YES THEY DO! IT'S CALLED GYM CLASS!"

   I'll be the first to admit, I skipped gym class any chance I got. I never thought it would be useful, but here we were.

   I took a sharp inhale as we shot up the stairs. The Gorgon herself - or was it itself? Who knows? She/It looked like Medusa and was very hellbent on killing us! I highly doubt it -

   "FOCUS, ZIGGY! WE CAN'T STOP!"

   "But coffee, Al!"

   "VENICE STARBURST, IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ARSE IN GEAR I SWEAR TO WHOEVER THIS BLOODY DANU PERSON IS THAT I WILL LEAVE YOU!"

   Let me start at the beginning - which was about three years ago in a stuffy antiquated room that smelt as if the room was doused in chlorine. Blinds were drawn and dust visibly danced in the air. You could see it from the little bit of sunlight that peaked through the window…

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

   𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙀 𝙂𝙍𝙀𝙒 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙎𝘾𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙎. It's when people invented or dream up things that allowed my universe to exist. It technically counts as endless as the world you're in now.

   However, the major difference would be how the societies ran themselves.

   We have a test that everyone takes at fifteen. It defines their roles in society - then you fulfill them to the best of your ability. No one knows what happens if you don't because no has never tried not doing what they're assigned.

   I was in the same positions of trillions across the galaxies - and millions alone on earth!

   I sat in a stuffy antiquated room that smelt as if the room was doused in chlorine. Blinds were drawn and dust visibly danced in the air. You could see it from the little bit of sunlight that peaked through the window.

   I sat where my parents did.

   I tapped my foot unable to keep still as a woman walked in with a thin manilla folder and a headset.

   It was all the test needed. "Put this on," the woman instructed tersely. My hands shook as I took the device that would decide the rest of my life.

   I didn't want it.

   I wanted to stay fourteen forever - young and dumb and making my own choices.

   I wanted to stay fourteen forever - with the freedom of exploration and bucking the system and worrying over my next math test.

   I wanted to stay fourteen forever - that way friends wouldn't be lost and families could stay together and carelessness of childhood summer days would reign queen.

   But no one could stay fourteen forever.

   The world around me dissolves into a coffee shop after I placed the headset over my eyes. My normally long, raven hair was tied up in a bun and a disembodied voice droned on from all around me. "This is your test," my examiner flatly told me. "How you act in each scene will determine where you fall in society. Enjoy."

   I glanced around the coffee shop. What scene am I supposed to act out here? The shop was warm and the cottage-core decor was bright. Plants dotted the shop and I smiled at the lilies, baby's breath, and azaleas that bright explosions of color to the light brown furniture -

   "Miss? Miss, I need your name."

   I jumped at the sound. I turned towards the barista and apologetically grimaced. "Sorry," I told him. "The name is Ziggy Starburst."

   "Ziggy?" The guy replied with a quirked eyebrow and a questioning stare.

   "What? It's a nickname my parents' gave me. Apparently, naming their daughter 'Ziggy' was looked down upon in a hospital," I replied. The minor eye roll that accompanied the explanation was more so a reflex now than trying to be either funny, flirty, or a bit of a jerk. "My real name is Venice."

   "Wouldn't you prefer that on the cup?"

   "That might be my name but I'm not a city with canals for streets. I'll keep Ziggy, thank you very much."

   The barista only grinned and shook his head. "Anthony," he gestured to himself as a way of greeting before sending me on my way...

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

   𝙄 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙏𝙀𝙇𝙇 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙄𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙀𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙔𝙀𝙏, how I passed and ended up waiting around some book shop that I loved for a guy who's life I was magically meant to make perfect. I was always weird and out-of-the-box. So it made sense that when it was all over, I got the "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" role.

   It started on one of my Saturday shifts at Brigid's Cakes and Reads. A cute little cafe-and-book-shop filled to the brim with vintage book cases and books that were torn and frayed or old and stained. Coffee filled the noses of everyone that came to the used book store. You bought a book and stayed for the cup of joe.

   That being said, I knew something went amiss when some random guy - okay not random per se but random enough- slinked up to the counter and gave me a slippery smile. Oh, Danu, please no, I thought.

   I survived three years without an encounter of who I was the prize for after doing most of the work to making them a better person. Three blissful years of being my own person and making my own choices and making my own money and -

   (You get the idea.)

   "Hey, you're that girl from history right? Venice?" He asked. There was something in his eyes I didn't like.

   "It's Ziggy, actually," I replied with a tight smile and a want to get away from whatever ooze creeped out from this kid's aura. "Now, I need to get to the back and unpack some books, so ciao."

   I snaked myself away from the counter barely dodging his outstretched arm. Once I was behind a case, I sped to the back.

   Then all hell broke lose.