Trading her jumping jacks in for jack squats, Fern sensed (and felt and heard) a great disturbance in the force.
“Lichen!” she screamed, intuitively knowing what had caused the castle to suddenly shake as in a quake, her exercising over but her exorcising just begun.
But first there was a problem of revealing herself in a proper way to Fink, who was now grieving over the resulting possession of his beloved Princess Pinky Gumm after the attack, the invading spirit having found the correct body to inhabit. Right now, Fern was just a figment of his imagination stuck in the basement or dungeon, guarded by banana soldiers to the front back side and side. Princess hadn’t said anything; she wasn’t sure it was real herself yet; didn’t want to alarm others until she knew for sure. This story must remain PG’s and not reveal any unrestricted, naked truths. And now she’s paid the price. Lichen needed to contact Fern from the Great Beyond and she’s doing anything in her powers to make this so! Even if it means displacing the soul of another. With Fink (and Jack) in the middle.
“Princess,” calls Fink at the bedside. “Come back to us, PG.” He looked down again at her blue-not-pink face, those slime green pupils set in pitch black corneas, the clammy skin. And she didn’t smell the same either. Not all candy-like but — dare he even think it? — sort of like death. Or at least rotted trees.
“Must talk — to — *Ferrrrnn,*” the spirit hissed within the body.
“Fern?” says puzzled Fink, figuratively if not literally scratching his head at the princess’ utterance, a recurring gesture. “Who’s Fern?”
“Well… I’m guessing it may be you or an alternate version of you since Fink is close to Fern,” Jack chips in from the other side of the bed. “That’s what my dog instincts tell me. I don’t know, hmph. Prob’ly should just stick to licking my butt and other more regular dog stuff. Call it a wild hunch, then.” And he proceeds to get on the floor and lick his behind while he’s thinking about it.
“*Jack*,” reprimanded Fink at the action. “What did we talk about, huh? Not in front of the princess! Especially not *now*.” He looked down and got even more depressed and desperate.
No more words in the script for poor, possessed Pinky Gumm. Now was Fern’s chance.
“Fink,” tried Fern again in a vision over the large, sprawled out body of Susan. “It’s me. Your other half. Remember. Re-mem-ber.”
(to be continued)
Sunklands 
