PART 6 - FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD.

She was Tragedy," said Julianne, "Mary was always crying. Drifting and hiding from herself." "Did you ever talk to her?" Julianne sighed heavily, "No, not really. She just came into my bookstore every Sunday afternoon and browsed through the fantasy section. She never bought anything though. Most of the time she would just pull a book off the shelf and run in the bathroom and read it. I never questioned her about it." "What do you think she was hiding from?" "Who knows?" Julianne said, shrugging. She hated these constant interviews since Mary's disappearance. It seemed to be the same persistant questions every time. "The day before she disappeared though, she did buy one book." "Which one?" She smirked. "The Wizard of Oz."

PART 7 - THE GHOSTS THAT HAUNT HER EYES.

Mary's lucid-blue eyes were hollow, the edges red and swollen. She stared out the window, clutching at the thin nightrobe around her body and rocking back and forth. Her sandy hair, hopelessly tangled, framed her pale face. Billi was scared. She had been like this for days now, wouldn't make a sound. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, but the air around Mary was icy cold and he couldn't bring himself to move close to her. "What's wrong?" he asked. She continued to stare out the window, endlessly rocking. Billi sighed. Mary seemed more like a ghost than a real person now. He started to wonder where she went. This shell of a girl in front of him wasn't her. Couldn't be. She muttered something in Latin that he couldn't understand. "Where are you?" Billi asked quietly. It was only then that she finally looked at him. And her haunted gaze told him everything. Billi was still shivering when he reached his house later that night.

PART 8 - PERCEPTION.

Mary sat peacefully on her living room couch, reading Burroughs and absently combing her hair with her fingers. Billi looked at her intensely. She seemed to be part of a still life, a beautiful portrait. He had been staring at her for so long, he didn't realize when she started speaking. "Billi?" He retreated from his daze. "Yeah?" "Have you ever been to London?" Billi frowned, puzzled. "No, why?" Her attention immediately returned to her book. "What's in London?" he asked. Mary's eyes didn't move from the book, but Billi noticed her shift uncomfortably on the couch. "My father." * * * * * "You know, in all the years I've known Mary, she never once mentioned her father. I never asked either. None of my business, you know?" "What happened then?" the reporter asked. "Nothing," Billi said. "A few weeks before that, when she became a ghost, I knew something had died in her that day. I didn't realize at the time what it was. It was her father. Strange thing is, no one had called her family with the news until a few weeks later... Don't ask me how but Mary...she just knew, right away."

PART 9 - "The waves roll in my thoughts..."

Oceans hold magic," Mary said. "They are the only thing that's eternal because they hardly sleep." Charlotte sat on the edge of the tall cliff with Mary. The sea's vehement waves crashed against the rocks far below them. "They're full of secrets," Mary whispered. "The waves never sing, but they always cry out passionately." They sat on the edge of the rocks, so close to infinity. Charlotte bit her bottom lip in worry. She hadn't known Mary that long. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have agreed to come out to this place. "Why are we here?" she asked, fighting to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "Because the waves are furious." Mary grabbed a camera out of her backpack and started taking what seemed like hundreds of pictures. "If you listen carefully," she said, with one last click of her camera, "The sea will tell you why she's angry."

PART 10 - MARY'S LAMENT.

"Once upon a time," Mary said in a wispy voice, "There was a girl who lived in a valley. She was very beautiful and everyone loved her very much. But nobody knew why she could never stop crying..." * * * * * Billi shivered and closed his eyes, remembering Mary's voice. He looked at the tree she used to sit under, a flowering dogwood. In springtime it would bloom and Mary would take the milky petals from the flowers and put them in her hair. She would open her arms and spin around in circles. "Look, Billi, I'm dancin'..." * * * * * "...and the girl would go out into the meadows every night and sleep among the flowers," Mary said, with a quiver in her voice. "And she would cry every morning when she woke up. She told herself that she didn't want to cry anymore. But it was always the same and she would have to have to wipe away the tears with tulip petals from the garden..." * * * * * Bill took out a photograph he had taken of Mary with the dogwood flowers in her hair, under that tree. She had her eyes closed and spots of sunlight fell on her face. She almost looked peaceful. But Billi looked at her face closely, with the slightly red cheeks and the skin still shiny from tears. "Billi, I don't want to cry anymore..." * * * * * "One day, a prince discovered the girl asleep in the garden. He had been gazing at her from afar for a long time and knew he was in love with her. He kneeled down in the grass and kissed her eyes with his soft lips..." Mary was shaking. She sat down, her voice becoming more faint. "...but the girl never woke up."