Then, when twilight devours color from the sky, I want you to take the salamander to a place outdoors where nobody can find you. I want you to find a large rock and smash it against the small creature until it stops moving.

You probably didn’t know the salamander is a symbol of rebirth in many cultures – a sign of change, transformation, and growth.

Don’t you wish to be reborn too?

After all, what have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Signed,

Sponsor

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 06/10/2000

Time: 8:37 a.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: A Salamander from the Park

Sponsor,

I’ve read your email several times now and I’m uncertain where to begin.

You know I would never question you or do anything to challenge your judgement. But I don’t think I could go through with it.

I could never hurt a living thing.

Will you please reconsider and give me another task?

I’ll do anything else. I swear it.

Signed,

Drudge

EMAIL FROM ZOE CROSS

Date: 06/10/2000

Time: 9:49 a.m.

From: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

To: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: A Salamander from the Park

A Drudge does not question their Sponsor. A Drudge obeys no matter what.

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 06/10/2000

Time: 10:11 p.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: A Salamander from the Park

I did what you asked me to.

I didn’t take pictures of any of it, so my account of everything will have to suffice.

I got in my car and took a drive out to the park this afternoon. The one you mentioned in your email. There was a huge iron gate that greeted me when I arrived, miniature stone gargoyles flanking either side that seemed to regard me as if incredulous, as if they were about to ask me what I was doing there. At the time, I remember thinking how wonderful it might be if one day we had a place with a gate guarded by little stone beasts with ferocious jaws – little creatures that would belong to us and no one else.

So, after I paid the attendant, I drove through the gate and began to meander down a narrow corridor lined with giant Sycamores. I remember thinking, “What am I doing?”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“This is wrong.”

But, with every barbed thought, I sensed my feet pushed down harder on the accelerator as if I were gleefully headed toward doom, as if I had caught a glimpse of Hell for the first time and needed to marvel further at its vast wealth of wonders.