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keyboardclicks · 5 years

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You’re It

(Photo by Kundan Ramisetti on Unsplash)

Uncle told me to stay inside because of my asthma. But we hardly ever saw fog! All the more reason to frolic in the ground clouds I thought.

“You’ll be coughing all night,” he warned.

“You’re not my dad!” I shot back. I thought it was kinda funny because no one was. More than a good night’s sleep, I loved proving people wrong. Uncle’s mouth moved like a fish. Open and closed. Sucking on stale air. Jared and I left him to catch flies all by his lonesome.

We zipped up our jackets in the boot room. “They say this year’s the one,” Jared said. “Will it show up today, you think?”

“Stop with that garbage story already.” I hoped it sounded tougher to his ears than it did to mine.

Jared wiggled his fingers at me. “Somebody’s sc-a-a-r-e-d.”

“I’m not!” I said, louder than intended. “I know it’s made up. It’s a—what’s it called? An urbing legend.”

Jared looked like he was about to puke. Probably one of his practical jokes. I ignored it and continued.

“—You know. A story someone makes up to scare every kid in town from ever leaving their house. In other words, a big fat lie.”

“OK, so how do know this is a...urBING legend?” Jared asked.

“Because.”

“Because—”

I liked Jared, but man could he be a pest sometimes. “It hasn’t shown up yet. What would make today any different?”

“That’s not for us to answer.” Then after a pause, “Ika, what do you think it will do to us?”

Clearly I wasn’t going to win the debate, and this was the hill he was choosing to die on. So I decided to play his baloney game.

With a sigh, I said, “It trades places with one of us. And we become it for 100 years, until we catch some other poor kid and pass the curse onto them. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to hear you say it.”

I glared at Jared until the core of my eyeballs ached. Through those blurred curtains of anger, I saw our friends waving from the park. Even though we were almost there, and tag would soon start, my stubborn streak refused to stray from this argument.

“It’s almost as if you want it to show up.” I said.

Jared pointed at his chest, mouthing “who me?” Then out loud said, “Hope you’re wearing good running shoes. In case it hunts you down. Steals your skin for shelter.”

My ears burst in flames. He always did this: argued with me in private until I flipped out in public. He thought it was so freakin' funny, but I found it infuriating. Slash-his-bike-tires infuriating.

We got to the park and joined our friends. Frustrated by Jared’s incessant teasing, I didn’t even try to pay attention to the group conversation and missed the “1-2-3 not it” call by a mile.

So on that hazy day, I was the thing no one wants to be. I was it.

Five of us played tag. There was Jared, my cousin and on-again, off-again best friend; Kathy, whose mom made cookies with more chocolate chips than dough; Micah, the kid who couldn’t stop licking his upper lip and Jermaine, the compulsive liar. Jermaine was never it. One of us would tag him, and he’d drop to the ground yelling about his elbow being dislocated or a tooth falling out. Jared was the fastest, so he was never it either, unless he volunteered as tribute at the start of a game. That left Kathy, Micah and myself to juggle feelings of inadequacy and despair almost every day of summer break. But at least I wasn’t alone.

I was gaining on Kathy, even with my lungs heavy with murky mist. Arms pumping like a rock-em-sock-em robot, chest heaving, shoes just skimming the ground. Kathy was five feet away, then three, then one.

“Can’t catch me!” she taunted. “You...will...be...it for-evah!”

Oh hell no, I thought, but soon realized she might be right.

Kathy pivoted to the side, and my feet didn’t keep up. So intent on proving her wrong and touching even a thread of her sweater that—smack!—my forehead slammed right into a century-old elm.

What the heck was a tree doing in the middle of a park? That’s a question I asked later. On impact, I only thought about the searing pain in my skull. Tiny birds fluttered above my head. Their claws held a blue, white and blinding yellow curtain while they flew round and round. Such a pretty, swirling sky.

“You idiot!” someone yelled. Sounded like Jermaine. The rotten little scamp. I made a mental note to drizzle pancake syrup on his bike handlebars later that night.

I blinked and cursed the tears that trailed into my ears. What was more wounded, my head or my pride? I couldn’t tell ya.

Blades of grass swished to make way for an approaching pair of feet. I’d know those scuffed Adidas anywhere. “You good?” Jared asked, not quite meeting my eye.

Here was my chance. The opportunity to throw in the towel, rest these gams and start a fresh game tomorrow.

Or…

Or I could prove that I was indestructible. Jenika Thompson. Fast and fearless. Definitely not a wuss.

“Does a bear poop in the woods?” I responded.

“She’s good!” he yelled to everyone in the game. “And she’s still it!”

Before I could say wait, maybe I’ve changed my mind because my head kinda hurts, before I could ask for help up, I was looking at the pebble-crusted sole of Jared’s shoes plodding away.

And that’s when I heard it.

Psssst.

I sat up, and my head protested in pain.

Over here...

Curling chin into chest, I found myself staring at a sea of grass, the Radcliffe Road apartments and, much closer than that, an ancient tree wrapped in a dense robe of fog. The ancient tree. The one that had delivered a knockout punch to my noodle moments before.

Yessssss, right there. You want a rest? Tag me in.

I glared suspiciously at its stupid, thick trunk. “Trees don’t talk.”

And yet, stranger things have happened on this star.

Slowly and shakily, I got up, keeping an eye on its stock-still bark the whole time.

“You must be...are you different from a regular tree?” I asked.

Come closer. You’ll see.

I took a couple steps forward.

“Where’s your mouth? How are you even talking?” I continued to interrogate the plant.

A bit closer, ch-iii-ld.

“How will you play tag though? You’re stuck there.” I squinted, trying to tell whether there was a flicker of movement, or if my brain was playing funny tricks on me. “You’ll be there until you get struck by lightning, or hacked with a chainsaw. My uncle has a chainsaw you know.”

Far across the field, Jared yelled, “Jenika, watch out!” and the tree grew a body out the back. I mean, something hobbled out from behind the tree.

Gotcha! it said.

Even though it hadn’t really got me—not yet— my blood turned boiling hot, then freezing cold. What hunched in front of me was much worse than a talking tree. Draped in a tattered and dusty robe, the creature looked like it was from a land dead and long forgotten. Its skin was gray and cracked all over. Its lips had been gnawed almost completely off. The remaining flesh was white and flaking. Jagged teeth bared behind its puckered orifice. But the worst part was its eyes. Or where its eyes were supposed to be. The lids were sewn shut with a thin, dark line of bloodied stitches.

I tried to swallow, but a desert had claimed the landscape in my mouth.

The thing smiled. If you could call it that.

Something clicked into place.

Run.

I didn’t know who said it or who was wailing into the afternoon air. Months later, Kathy insisted those sounds escaped from my own throat.

The thing clambered behind.

One blurry glance showed me that Micah and Kathy had almost cleared the field. They were well on their way across the street and back home. I hoped they would get help in time from parents, a nanny, a construction worker. Anyone who had escaped the nightmare of childhood long ago. Jermaine was frozen in place, about halfway between me and them. When I saw the wet spot on the front of his pants, I reneged on my plan to vandalize his bike. His sobs could just be heard over the ker-chunk of my heart.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jared. He was doing something strange. The psychopath was sprinting toward us with teeth clenched and a fist raised like a gladiator in battle. Fierce and somewhat constipated.

“Don’t!” I called to him, to my pursuer, to everyone, really. “Game’s over. Time out.” Trembling, I made the universal tip-of-fingers-meeting-other-palm-sign. “I just want to go home.”

The thing laughed. It was a disgusting sound, a loud cracking and swallowing, over and over again.

“Go! Jenika, get out of here!” Jared yelled.

The treble in his voice kicked me into high gear, dissipating my headache into just a pinch of pain. I sprinted faster than when I had been chasing Kathy, faster than all the times Jared and I had raced to the slurpee store. The wind in my hair was rushing by so quick it whistled. That’s what it sounded like to fly.

Then my right foot hit a divot in the ground, and I really flew. Ass over tea kettle, tumbling through the air.

“Nooooooooooo!” The injustice of it all. I was up front. I was getting away. That thing should have been eating my dust.

I waited, breathing like Darth and stifling an asthmatic cough. Soon it would catch up, stand overtop my twisted limbs and block the sun. Everything would go dark when it stretched its mouth open to inhale my body. It’d skin me with its jagged teeth first though. I resigned myself to fate: eventual death by cannibalism.

I turned my head to the side to see it dragging itself through the grass. For a moment, I wondered why it had such low energy but decided I would too if I’d been living on a curse for 100 years. My legs jittered, and as trivial as it sounds, I hoped my body wouldn’t succumb to the same fate as Jermaine’s. Though perhaps it wouldn’t matter by the time this thing was finished with me.

The cracks in its skin widened into big, bloody holes.

Now you’ll be it, it rasped, reaching out an impossibly long arm. I have bared this burden for far too long.

Its curled yellow fingernails inched closer to my body.

I’m sorry, it whispered. Such a lonely life is this.

When its pointer finger was millimetres from scraping my ribcage, Jared flew into view and tackled our unwanted playmate to the ground. They hit the grass with an oof, and I scrambled to my feet, ninja warrior style, finally ready to put this bozo to bed.

But that gusto was short-lived.

“Jared?” My voice cracked. “You good?”

There was no one to hear me. My cousin and it were gone. Vanished.

Turning in circles, I looked around the park wildly. No sign of anyone. They had all gone home. Woozy and stumbling, I did the same.

***

“I’m not sure if that’s really how your cousin disappeared. You need to tell us the truth. You were closest to whatever happened.”

I focus on a bookshelf, searching for a recognizable title. No Gone With the Wind or The Outsiders. I’m scanning for Lord of the Flies when Dr. Kellen interrupts me.

“Jenika, what do you think about reconnecting with your friends? Your uncle says they miss you.”

“I don’t play games anymore.”

Dr. Kellen leans forward in his purple leather chair. “Do you remember after hitting your head…...you got sick…and walked home alone?”

His question hangs, thick and complicated, like a tapestry between our solidarity.

“I should’ve been it. It came for me.” The voice that speaks is deeper than my old one, calloused by months of sorrow.

“Many people feel that way. It’s what we call survivor’s guilt. Completely normal.”

I whisper the new term to myself. It tastes like tin foil.

“I think deep down, you know that’s not what happened.” Dr. Kellen reasons. “Did you see a stranger in that park? Someone who approached you and your friends?”

I keep quiet.

Dr. Kellen’s jaw tightens and then he takes a new tactic.

“This has been tremendously hard on your uncle. He’s lost a son, and he’s hurting just like you.” He stares until I lose the contest and need to blink.

Disappointment settles in when he sees the clock. “Next Wednesday let’s pick up where we left off. We’re out of time for today’s session unfortunately. I hope you know this is a safe place to share. You can trust me.” He pulls his mouth into a smile that deepens the wrinkles on his face.

I give him the nod he wants and the question he doesn’t. “But do you trust me?”

When leaving, I poke Dr. Kellen in the shoulder. “You’re it, Doctor.” A shiver crawls up his spine and exits through his bald head.

#amwriting #writeblr #creativewriting #shortstory

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theabyssalmuses-archived · 5 years

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🍷-all my fate boi's to whoever can stand to talk about all of them

ALL OF THEM!! alright. fine! Courtesy of Euryale.

1. Cu Chulainn

“Cu Chulainn…the great hero of Ulster, hmm? He’s quite an oddball, wouldn’t you say? Far too aggressive too. Of course, that doesn’t mean I hate him. Quite the contrary, I think it’d be…quite interesting for us to get to know each other, Ahuhuhu~ That being said, his wild nature makes him a little hard to control, doesn’t it? I’m really not to sure what I could ever hope to gain from him. Ah Well…”

2. Hans Christian Andersen

“Ah, A truly rotten man. What’s with his body? His personality and voice don’t suit him at all! Ugh! All he’s good for is writing stupid stories, like I would ever have any interest in the made up stories of men! Such a waste of space! Hmph! He’s lucky I’ve even looked at him!”

3(a). Jekyll

“My, what do we have here? Henry Jekyll, right? I quite like his outfit, and his hair is neat. Obviously a man who looks after himself as best he can. I do wonder how well he could look after someone else though. Other than that, he does seem a little bit bland, no? Not that it’s inherently a bad thing…Overall, I think he seems pretty nice…which is more than I can say for…”

3(b). Hyde.

“Hyde. I’ve heard he’s like, the personification of all of Jekyll’s evil or something like that, but I don’t really care enough to find out how true that is. All that matters when it comes to Hyde is what he can do. Ahh, he’s strong, fierce and arguably very protective…to have someone like that serving me…Ahuhuhu…”

4. Kid Gilgamesh

“N’aawwhh, He’s so cute! Even I can say that much about him. Really, I ought to be careful I don’t get charmed myself. A goddess like me falling prey to the charms of a small boy…talk about ironic. Still, he seems nice enough. Perhaps one day we’ll meet. I’m not sure how willing I am to do so, though. He seems like he can be quite the little scamp when it comes to practical jokes and the like. How awful…”

5. Karna

“Oh, isn’t he wonderful? The Hero Charity, Karna…Hm, hm, that’s exactly what i’m looking for, you see? A man willing to devote everything and anything he has to a cause…Isn’t it perfect? Can’t you just see it now? Me and Him…he’s giving me gifts, fighting my battles and….well..I guess something like that won’t happen anytime soon. I may be a Perfect Goddess, but he is a Sun God, no? It’s likely he can resist my charms with ease, and burn away any kind of magecraft I try and pull on him….” “Such a Pity…”

#bleep3 #Euryale: a perfect idol #In Character: Legends of the Abyss #(this took a while! hope you like it!)

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apirateslifeforme123 · 7 years

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Fic asks continued: And last but certainly not least, for the esteemed @snowbryneich , Destinies Entwined.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Oh my. Many things I shall blame, lol. I had just finished reading this book Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead (Which I do recommend), and it started getting me more interested in the Royal Navy side of things. Captain Hayden is a wolf at sea but a total sweetheart and a little lost on land. It felt a bit familiar, and my head turned in James Norrington’s way so fast my neck cracked, lol. I started looking closer at his character and realized he was way more complex than I originally gave him credit for.

Also, I read the fic A Vagrant Gypsy Life about James living rough on Tortuga, (which I also recommend) and it really changed my perception of him. Suddenly I was like WOW James Norrington is a Sexy Scamp. Lol. I loved the premise of James and Elizabeth running into each other on Tortuga and having more time to interact, but I wanted something sweeter and dirtier, lol. A fic is born…

2: What scene did you first put down?

I think I started with James and Elizabeth taking shelter in his room, and discussing everything that had happened to them both, and Elizabeth feeling rotten for the way she’d treating him. She grows up a lot in that scene.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I’m not sure I have a favorite, I love getting into all the characters’ heads.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Haha, so many. But ok, after Elizabeth gives James the Letters of Marque, hoping they can make use of them together.

“We’re going to need a ship, you know,” he finally said, seeming amused.

“We can procure one,” she answered cheerfully, clearly excited that he was interested in her gift.

“Steal one, you mean?” he teased with a sideways look at his lover.

“Liberate one. Perhaps from a pirate, or even better, the French?”

James could not help but chuckle at the thought. When in doubt, there’s always time to make war with the French.

5: What part was hardest to write?

This fic flowed pretty well, greatly (mostly) due to the amazing feedback left by you, dear! :) It’s amazing what that can do for an author’s motivation. And I feel we bonded over the course of this fic, which I’m ever so happy for! :) But anyway, it was very hard to write James’ death. I made sure to have the epilogue on hand so I could post the last two chapters together, as a point of personal safety, lol!

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

I guess this was my first “BIG” foray into Norribeth. Before it was all Sparrabeth for me. I’ve also found that a lot of Norribeth fics, especially the older ones, are somehow anti Elizabeth? I don’t know how that’s possible, it weirded me out, and I definitely wanted to write an answer to that.

7: Where did the title come from?

Ha. Well it started out as “Fates Entwined” but then I realized (as usual) I remembered the quote wrong. In my defense, it’s also quoted wrong on IMDB. It comes from AWE, when James tells Elizabeth their destinies are entwined but never joined. I guess I wished to refute that claim, lol.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

I guess vaguely some of the emotions. Looking back and realizing you treated someone unfairly who loved you in your brazen youth… But otherwise, no, my life is not nearly this exciting. ;)

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

For a period I thought maybe I would go the James & Lizzy become privateers route, but then I went this direction, vaguely following the course of AWE with a more favorable outcome. I do still hope to write that privateer fic tho, perhaps as a sequel to Promise of Redemption.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

See #1.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I dunno, maybe the first few chapters, where Elizabeth and James are living on Tortuga and find this blissful balance in their lives despite the squalor. Making love all day and winning at cards all night, lol. The chemistry is fun between them when they’re living outside society, free to be themselves. They find they actually rub along pretty well. I enjoyed writing their snarky comments to each other.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

I’m afraid the ending was kind of predictable, but I couldn’t resist the cheap drama of it, lol. Ah well, what can you do.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

My usual pirate playlist as discussed in earlier posts, I suppose. Also, lol, I think Drake’s Make Me Proud undoubtedly ran on repeat while I was dreaming this up, lol. I love a woman with a future and a past, a little attitude problem all good it’ll make the shit last… Haha I’m sorry I know its ridiculous.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I guess my usual Don’t ever let them leave you on that fucking island, girls mantra, lol. Elizabeth is adamantly true to herself in this fic, and it leads her on this epic journey. She refused to become something she knew she would despise for the love of a man, and it all worked out in the end.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I learned a lot about the Royal Navy researching for this fic. I’m still learning. It is a dizzyingly complex subject, but so much fun.

#pn fic #norribeth #Destinies Entwined #norribeth fic

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