In the dead of winter, in the dead of night, Mona Cost pulls up to the Rosalie. She hopes her old friend Murder still lives in the building. Mona’s been on the road for three years, playing noise basements and sleeping on couches. Now she’s back in Cleveland, hoping to plant roots. Before she left town, Mona betrayed her friend Rocky. Maybe Rocky will forgive her and they can reform their band, Liver. Maybe they can create their own underground space run by and for artists.
Or maybe Rocky and Murder don’t live here anymore.
Mona drinks to survive harsh nights and fears what inner beasts will emerge if she quits. She ignores calls from her mother, who lives in a house painted black and filled with ghosts. Her mother, mystic witches, and other unknown creatures visit Mona in dream gardens more vivid than the drunk-sick clouds of waking life.
Meanwhile, Mona’s deranged ex texts he’ll never stop tailing her until he can nail her down for good.
Is it possible to have hope in late capitalism, in a world run by fascist clowns, where shit jobs are getting shittier, rents are soaring and nature itself is collapsing?
Snowflakes spark as Mona looks up to Murder’s window. She longs to see him, but longing can be dangerous.
Maybe Mona will stay drunk and afraid. Maybe she’ll jump into the frozen lake. Maybe she and her friends will break through into something magic and holy.
Or
Maybe Mona Cost can only awaken to the light within after returning to her mother and facing the dark mystery of the black house.