1

Mina

A Photographic Novella

in Twenty Episodes

2

Text and Makeup by Jennifer Broome

Photography by Allie Mullin

©2012. All Rights Reserved

3

Fragments

4

Mina woke up six days later.

The first, rather blurry thing she saw was a lace-covered parasol; its business end was pointed at a stout, cloaked man.

5

‚If yer not good enough to do yer job and make ‘er well, yer can just—‚ ‚Tatter?‛ Mina croaked.

6

Tatter whipped around as the man scurried off to parts unknown. ‚Mina?‛ She trotted over to the side of Mina’s bed. ‚’ow are yer feelin’?‛ Mina groaned. ‚Like I’ve been clouted.‛ Tatter nodded. ‚Sounds about right. Yer got hit by sumfink from above when the bomb went off.‛ Mina started for a moment as she remembered. ‚What—who—is…?‛

7

Tatter seemed to understand. ‚It were a bit confusin’ like for a while. Th’ bleedin’ Derklings came and dug us outta the rubble. Th’ Queen’s wings broke, so she’s con…con…ver…‛ ‚Convalescing?‛

8

‚Yeah, that’s it. Con-ver-lessing. ‘atter shielded you from the impact, but she didn’t do so well.‛ Seeing the look on Mina’s face, she hurried on. ‚not dead or nuffink, just hurt kinda bad. She’s gonna take a long time to get back to normal.‛ ‚What about my mother?‛

9

Tatter paused. Finally, she said carefully, ‚We’s not sure about ‘er.‛ ‚What do you mean?‛ ‚Well, the bomb went off so quick, there weren’t any way she could’ve avoided bein’ hit. But when the Derklings shifted all the rubble, like, there weren’t no body.‛ ‚So is she alive?‛ ‚We don’t know. ‘atter said that she musta flipped another switch or sumfink that protected ‘er from the blast, but we didn’t find another lever or anyfink. We just don’t know. I don’t like it any more than yer do, but ‘struth.‛

10

Mina digested this news in silence. If there was no body, there was hope. She supposed that was something, at least. She put aside the thought with difficulty, leaving room for another, even more reprehensible idea. ‚Tatter…‛ ‚Yeah?‛ ‚Did you know?‛

11

‚Know what?‛ ‚Know that the map was actually a bomb?‛

Tatter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‚’Course I didn’t know it were a bomb! I’m not in the habit of making meself a target for flyin’ rock, am I?‛ Her indignation subsided a bit. ‚Although I should’ve never trusted that bleedin’

12

mapmaking tart. Shoulda known she ‘ad sumfink up ‘er sleeve, like.‛ The Philomorph sighed. ‚Naw, th’ fact we all got out alive were stupid luck.‛ ‚Why aren’t you hurt? And how did Hatter know to turn me away from the bomb?‛

13

‚Well, ‘atter’s been in tight spots for a long time, so she’s gotten a kinda intuition when sumfink ain’t right. I think she were just actin’ on instinct, like. Plus, she don’t trust The Cartographer any more’n I do, so that put us both on ‘igh alert, you might say. As for me, well…‛ she patted her parasol fondly. ‚Bein’ a Philo’s got some advantages, yer know. All me lace may look like nuffink to most people, but it’s me armor. And me parasol’s the same way…it protects me, like. It popped open right before that map exploded us all to the next Realm. First time it’s ever done that, so maybe it were a coincidence, but I don’t really think so.‛ Mina was silent for a long time. Finally, she looked at the lace-covered woman and arched an eyebrow. ‚So, Tatter, what do we do now?‛

14

Tatter considered for a bit. ‚I fink the best thing to do is to get outta this ‘ospital, like, and set towards home. Then, when ‘atter and yer all recovered, we’ll see. We still don’t know who killed The Professor, or where yer mum’s gone, and I’ve got a reckonin’ with a toff who makes maps.‛ The parasol jerked.

15

A tear plopped onto Mina’s lap. ‚Tatter, I don’t have a home. My father is dead. My mother may be dead, or she may have just abandoned me again. I can’t go back to school…‛ she trailed off and stared at the bedcovers. Tatter snorted and jabbed Mina’s knee. ‚Yer sumfink, yer know. ‘atter and me may not be yer blood, but we’re yer home. Whether yer like it or not, yer comin’ back to the ‘house with us.‛ And once again, Mina bowed to the implacable logic of Tatter’s parasol. Want further adventures of Mina, Tatter, and Hatter? Let us know by emailing literaturecouture@gmail.com.