Up past bedtime

((Transcript with corrected spelling and slightly improved punctuation:
Dear Mother and Father,

I appear to have had a religious experience.
After I had been standing in the corner for three days, a magical bird appeared to me and told me secrets, but some of them were lies.

He told me you two were dead, so I tried to hurt him with a tree branch, but he flew away every time.
I love you very much.
I saw you today, but I knew you were a mirage.
...took the rags out of my stuffed raccoon...
...now re-stuff it to make it more squeezable, like so...

...stitching together organelles...
...microorganism not so micro...
...very squeezable...
...with squidgy things from off The Grid...
I will name the cootie version of my raccoon Squeezy.
...Really wish mirages of you would stop telling me what a bad job I'm doing.

The Whippoorwill says the mirages are God's punishment for staying up so late past my bedtime. How many days has it been?
I don't know how seriously to take him because he lies and also told me to kill all my friends and arrange their bodies like so:
I think he's mad.
Anyway, I love you very much.

Love,
Shaqad
))

As the shock dies down

Dear Mother and Father,

In case you were curious, the locomotive took me to a house for sale and a large garden. I have not seen any people yet. I've been here for a day and a half but not yet seen any people. It serves me right, really, to be alone after abandoning everyone in the whole Grid who thinks more of me than of a heap of dirt. I can't believe how pathetic I am. Why did I do that? I certainly didn't increase their odds of survival by taking off like that. What was I thinking? No, I suppose I wasn't thinking. I was feeling. I do that constantly. Looking over past letters I have waiting to be sent home to you, I see a sickening recurrence of phrases like "I felt". How could I let a stupid thing like this control me when there are more important things to do? With God as my Witness, I swear on my honor as a lady and a woman that I will not abandon those close to me out of fear or any other frivolous emotion.
Do you think it will be necessary and possible to catch some future train back to Steelhead? The grasses and the walls of the buildings around me have begun to shift and breathe a bit for some reason, so I'm concerned that it may be not be a simple task to undo my foolish mistake.
Would you like to know more about my last night at the tavern? I met new people, so maybe you would like to know.
The two who stick in my mind are Ms. Aaoee the Chinese fairy princess (except they call them "honnio" over there) and Ms. Requiem the vampire witch, both friends of Mama Miss Dreamscape's. "Fairy princess" gives a decent impression of Ms. Aaoee, but you really wouldn't expect a vampire witch to be like Ms. Requiem. She's nothing like the witches of Dunwich: She was trying to help Miss Blackheart the music lady with the latter's magical powers so that everyone could fight against the evil monster better. She's also nothing like the vampires in storybooks: Far from being a beastly abomination, she is beautiful, elegant, confident, and cultured--so much so that she reminds me of my own beloved Mother. Perhaps all the people who wrote stories about vampires were ignorant about what kind of creatures they really are. In fact, Ms. Requiem looks more like an angel than anything else. Do you suppose vampires might be a misunderstood breed of angel?
The two of them and Mr. Paine were talking about a Yucoozah. I don't know any Chinese, but it sounds like a kind of boat.
Mr. Paine was there looking alive, well, and human. I'm so very glad things turned out okay for him.
There was a clank-person called Anevka who looked and acted exactly like a human except for a wind-up key on her back which made explosions in distant locations when wound too tightly. You like clanks, don't you, Father?
My filthy digression is not fooling anyone. I know I've been bad. If it helps any, I've located a corner and am standing in it, thinking about what I did. When we next meet, you may want to pray for my soul (not that I deserve it, of course). I wish the corner would hold still. I don't think my head is quite right. Perhaps that follows naturally from my heart not being right.

Love,
Shaqad

This world has experienced a fatal error

Dear Mother and Father,

I have sinned. I have abandoned from not only you two but also Miss Dreamscape. I am afraid. I left without permission on a train--yes, a train--because there are more frightening things in this world now than trains. I'm on the train right now, as I write this, and I'm barely even thinking about that fact.
Those dreams I mentioned are real. That's a strange thing to say, but everyone who gathered at Mama Valdy's this evening was talking about the head-stealing monster as if it were real. Okay, that's not too shocking in itself given what I've already seen since coming here. I mean, I knew from the stories that places like this had fearsome alien monsters from beyond the Grid, though the cleaned-up versions the neighbors told me only had them trapping ladies in music boxes and forcing them to dance. But it gets worse: The grownups were afraid. They were worried. They didn't know what to do. I am in a city full of Sparkpeople and Jaegerpeople and magical creatures and clanks! If something has the adults worried, this city is in deep trouble. I did not expect anything like this to happen. I guess this is why Miss Dreamscape has been out hunting so much lately, but I didn't expect anything this serious. If she can survive falling from the upper atmosphere, I'm sure she can survive a confrontation with an evil pointy sea alien, but what if she never finds it? What if it can hide magically, and what if it kills everyone in Steelhead who can be killed? I didn't think people could die in the Steamlands. Mr. Baron said they had the medical technology to raise the dead. What of that? What's the problem? Miss Blackheart said they don't resurrect royalty (So much for being a princess!), but that does not begin to cover all of this. This world is so much more complicated and scary than my worst nightmares had hinted.
I'm so stupid. Nobody else is running away. They even said that since Mama Valdy's is high above the water, there's less of a chance that the monster will climb that far. I'm so stupid. I left myself more vulnerable running out in the middle of the night to find a train than I ever was huddled under the bed on the top floor of the barracks. I made it here alive, though. What does that mean?
I don't know where I'm going. The old subway station was nearly shut down and there was only one area other than Steelhead that it still goes to. I've never heard of that other place, so I don't know where I'm going. With my luck, I'll be even farther from you than before, but there's a teeny chance I'll find some way to get home.
Will I be any safer outside of Steelhead? They listed places that don't have monsters. But if the Steelhead people can't handle this, how could anyone else? It might get stronger and spread its territory. There might even be more of its kind out there. Is it only a matter of time? May God in Heaven help us all!
I am glad that at least you are a long distance from the sea alien. I hope you remain safe forever.

Love,
Shaqad

Plateau

Dear Mother and Father,

While I've not seen the outside of the tavern except for the roof in a few weeks, I really am quite comfortable here. Even though my peculiar dreams leave me a wee bit nervous as to what may be "out there", I know cognitively that I am very safe here and can see that all around me. In fact, the first thing I see when I wake up is a rack of spears through the open door of the bedchamber. If a monster like in my dreams were to attack, I would be well equipped to defend myself. This is all to say nothing of Mama Miss Dreamscape, whom I suspect would enjoy doing to any hostile creatures what Porridge would do to squirrels. (In case you're wondering, I have yet to seriously upset her that I know of. I wonder how long I can keep this going. I give her and anything that seems important to her, e.g. her hats, as much space as possible, although I've seen little hints and flickers that she knows where I am in the building at all times: another thing that reminds me of Porridge. I'm still tiptoeing along that beautiful glass shelf. I haven't slipped and broken anything yet. I wonder how much more time there is.) Even when she is out guarding the city, all the military weapons comfort me. Sometimes I go on the roof and practice swishing them about just in case I ever need to defend myself, which I know is highly unlikely in a world full of responsible adults. In fact, it is probably downright redundant in light of what Mr. Baron said about the state of Steamland medical science. I bet I could jump right off the side of this roof here and go sploopht on the ground and all the madboys and madgirls would come and fix me up good as new. They would probably be angry at me, though, so I'll do no such thing. In fact, sometimes I wonder about the time I fell out the ground-story window. I still haven't been punished for that yet. Do you think they've already forgotten about it?
I still think about you constantly and love you very much, although the glass shelf does preoccupy me at times.

Love,
Shaqad

Madgirl in the flesh

Dear Mother,

You know the girl with whom Mr. Baron danced at her birthday last week, whose name turned out to be Clarabella Corryong? Last night I met her in person. The contrast between her and me was almost physically painful to observe. There is nothing wrong with her. She is clever and friendly and well-dressed and tidy and pretty. She is even a Spark, complete with her own minions. I cannot help but think that she must have the happiest parents in the world. Why does God make flawless people like her and then make people like me? I suppose only the greatest saints and philosophers know. I already sort of miss the contented state in which I didn't know anything about her. But that's no way to look at life, is it? I suppose the best thing to do is spend time around her and try to become more like her. Maybe I should give her my sewing book as a peace offering. I'm sure she could get more out of it than I can. Perhaps when we are both older, keeping close to her will grant me access to more high-caliber suitors.
I learned about other people, too. For example, Miss Captain Nacht is a captain of Mr. Baron's swordpeople. All this time I've been calling her simply "Miss Nacht". I hope she's not been offended.
I also learned through casual conversation that Miss Dreamscape is older even than Mr. Captain: She is in her six hundreds. Suddenly I'm even more nervous in her presence than before, knowing that I may very well be remembered centuries from now (and not just as a disembodied name connected to wondrous accomplishments). Unless I am as boring to her as a snail on a fencepost, she will hold memories of the real me, the one who makes mistakes all the time and doesn't know how to talk to her friends and hits the target throwing thing when she means to touch the dancing machine and trips over her own feet. As much as I want to finish the unfinished parts of your lives for you, as your daughter and the heir of your dreams, I don't think I personally want to be remembered as the real, fallible bundle of errors I was.
I indirectly tried to learn a bit about the condition of Mr. Paine, who collapsed last week. I was informed that he is still alive but somehow changed. I do hope he isn't ill! I should have stayed up and helped nurse him to health! Not that I would have had any inkling what to do without careful instructions, but still, I shouldn't have just left the scene like that.
Lastly, I met a shapeshifting lady personally invited by Miss Dreamscape. She had a different last name, but when she took on a humanlike form, I could see a family resemblance between the two. Before that, she was a partly human-shaped dragon. I've never met a dragon-type being before. Although she told me not to be afraid because she didn't like the taste of humans, she really didn't need to. No matter what her native culture has forced her to do in the past, Miss Dreamscape had trusted her enough to bring her in, and that was all I needed. Assurances were redundant. Though I'm still no good at interaction, it's always nice to make the acquaintance of decent people.

Love,
Shaqad

Clara's birthday

Dear Mother and Father,

Some interesting things happened last night, although I didn't actually go downstairs like I ought to have. I fell asleep in the middle of the evening, and by the time I awoke, quite a few people had already gathered downstairs. I heard Mr. Baron's voice and many others, including some I'm sure I've never heard before. It was apparently the birthday of a girl not too far from my age named Clara Corryong. (There was another voice belonging to someone young, but only one birthday.) She must have been very important, because Mr. Baron invited her to dance with him. (Mother, I promise you that if this Corryong girl did anything to earn her status, I will find out what it was and do it myself.) I would have been mortified to stride downstairs in the middle of all that as if I owned the place, so I tried my very best to stay quiet. (I had my things all over the floor, though, so it wasn't easy.)
I overheard various things of various importance from upstairs. In a discussion about getting through transport checkpoints, Miss Dreamscape implied that the Jaegerpeople do indeed know that they look a bit intimidating to others. I hadn't known that, and I hope I've never offended any of them by being inappropriately intimidated! Also, Mr. Baron said that Mrs. Lowey wasn't feeling well. I hope it's nothing serious! The Sparkpeople know what to do when someone isn't feeling well, don't they? Finally, through many different indirect remarks, I gathered that one of the people downstairs was a doll of some kind. I do wish I could have seen her!
The most memorable and alarming thing happened after the party itself, when Miss Corryong and Mr. Baron were already gone. A friend of Miss Dreamscape's, a Mr. Paine, had wandered in late and got a little bit too adventurous with the beverages. It is sensible that one ought to exercise more caution than normal when a bar contains ingredients meant for multiple species, but I guess that would be easy to forget in some social settings. The end result was that he got so sick that he collapsed and the Jaegerladies were going to take him upstairs for emergency medical treatment! I got my things put away and went back to bed before I had a chance to get in their way, and in the morning he wasn't anywhere around. I hope that's a good sign and that he wasn't carted off to the morgue! Miss Dreamscape doesn't appear to be in mourning for her friend, so I must hope for the best.
I don't know that anyone noticed me last night, or at least I don't think they noticed with certainty. Ms. Steamweaver asked if Miss Dreamscape had company at one point when I shuffled a bit too loudly, but there was no follow-up that I could hear. Of course, I've gotten the impression that Miss Dreamscape naturally knows where I am most of the time, just as Porridge did with her kitty senses, so I wouldn't rule out my having drawn more notice than the audible conversation betrayed.
I hope I haven't irritated anyone yet with my presence or lack of presence or anything in between!
Love,
Shaqad

A humble prayer

Dear Mother and Father,

I've been praying to God lately. Please don't be angry at me for going behind your backs. Let me explain: Do you remember that dream I described earlier where the Queen of Hearts called a monster to tear off my head? I have had many more like it. They are delightfully mundane compared to what I used to dream about, but they have been gradually escalating to become more and more horrific. The thing that alarms me, I suppose, is that the aether seems to resonate with them, as if some part of them existed somewhere outside my mind. It makes me most shamefully paranoid. I have taken to checking dark corners whenever I move to a different room. It is an embarrassing condition, but when I say a prayer before and after my dreams, they are milder and I feel better throughout the day.
Now I see what my problem is: I have been allowing myself to be led around by my feelings like a pitiful little marionette. I am a creature of flesh, cast adrift by the tempest of my frivolous passions. Forgive me, Mother and Father. It will not happen again.
The unauthorized prayers end today.

Love,
Your Shaqad