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 Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 10:12 pm
The Leaf
December 17, 2007
Up high, on a hill in Durem, there was a house. If one was being exact about the whole thing, the house was a mansion and the hill was a mountain, but the House on the Hill tends to roll off of the tongue more easily than the Mansion on the Mountain, despite seemingly equal measures of alliterative fortitude.
In this Durem mansion there lived a man, a man named Robert Violet. Much like the house that was not a house, Bob was a man who was not a man. Under his skin-substitute polymer suit he was a cartoon, 'toon for short, but most of the people on Gaia didn't care much at all. It was why he liked the strange planet; no one seemed to notice that his eyes glowed with the sparkle of too much ink and paint when there was a kitsune waiting at the bus stop four feet away.
Bob had been alive for a very long time, longer than most people's memories, but he still appeared the same age he had the day he was drawn. His human-suit looked in its late twenties. His mansion had been built in the early 1900s. Its rooms, with the exception of a select few, changed with the season, day, hour, or second. In spite of this, Bob wasn't a man who was used to certain types of change. His house might have contained a room full of naked harem girls one second and a chapel the next, and he had grown accustomed to that. He was not accustomed to children.
It was a chilly afternoon in December when Bob came across the leaf. He didn't feel the cold, at least not in the way most warm-blooded humanoids did, but he found people stared at him less when he dressed for the season. He had been walking through a barren park, admiring the trees' skeletal fingers, when a bright, unseasonably green leaf fluttered down and landed on Bob's stripey scarf.
His gaze snapped to the sky, but there was nothing or no one that could have deposited such a thing. The wind was still, but as Bob eyed the leaf, it twitched and hopped anyway.
Bob was amused. He decided to take it home.
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 10:13 pm
The Swirling Mass of Colorful Air
December 22, 2007
Bob's kitchen was one of the approximately five rooms in his house that never moved. It had a beautiful window seat next to the fridge where the 'toon took his meals, and the leaf liked it too. For five days after he had found it, he ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with the wiggly treebit, and even took it with him on his daily trek through the new rooms his house had created as he slept.
It was during one of these expeditions that he stumbled upon the swirling mass of colorful air.
Curious to see whether or not a particularly fun room from the day before - a room that had been filled with buttery popcorn and giraffe-shaped soaps - had remained overnight, Bob pushed open its door to find an arctic wasteland. Wind forced him back several feet before he could find his footing, and his hand automatically flew to his shoulder, clutching the fluttering leaf that rested there and shoving it roughly into his coat pocket. Bob pressed forward, his movements quickened by the distant howl of some large-sounding monster. He grabbed the knob, leaned all of his weight on the door, and slammed it shut. The strange place was gone for now, but not without leaving something behind.
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 10:14 pm
Sorry I've been away so long, Shirley. A couple of other things have been occupying my time, but that doesn't mean I love you any less.
See, first I found this leaf in the park. I know it's not normal, but I can't imagine a reason why anyone or anything would create a leaf that moves and bounces around like a living thing. Well, an animate living thing. But I guess leaves move too... you know what I mean.
And if that wasn't enough, something followed me out of one of your rooms. The wind was blowing so hard that I couldn't get out of there fast enough, and when I saw the thing that had come from the room, I tried to send it back, but the place was gone. Not the door, you know, just the room inside. It was filled with living marshmallow dinosaurs or something, not snow and wind. This thing is a weird ball of blue and green air, and every time I try to touch it, it shies away. It is curious enough otherwise, but if I had to describe its personality, it would definitely be hands-off.
The leaf and the airball seem to enjoy each other's company. They 'play' as only a leaf and airball can, and I like having them around for entertainment value, especially since they tend to leave me alone when I wish to be left and don't need food or water. What I don't understand is why they chose to live here in the first place? I've heard of the strange children that plague unsuspecting Gaians, but these two seem content to remain in the forms they are in now. If they ever really do mutate into slobbery, messy kids, well... I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Ta-ta, my dear.
--Bob
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 10:16 pm
The First Fight
February 10, 2008
Morning in the house was quiet. Robert had awoken feeling slightly under the weather and, at that moment, he had decided that the day would be spent resting and reading rather than exploring. It was now sundown, and the only two breaks from Hiaasen and his blankets Bob had taken were when he ventured into the kitchen to stock up on Cheez-Its and canned peaches and the time he went to the toilet. He likely would have remained in bed for the rest of the day if it hadn't been for his two nearly new roommates.
It began quite suddenly, and if Bob hadn't known better, he would have sworn he heard the screeching of an angry animal or two. He slid out of bed slowly and inched his way out into the kitchen.
The ball of air was... blowing itself, for lack of a better term, at a bread knife Bob had left on the countertop. The knife screeched and shuddered, and in response the nearby leaf hopped angrily, bobbing and weaving as if it was about to strike. A tiny piece had somehow been ripped from the leaf's once-perfect side and Robert was certain the knife had everything to do with it.
"Enough!" Bob slammed his fist on the table for emphasis and the two stopped moving completely. "Worse than children! I'll throw both of you out in the cold, I swear it!" he said, for a moment acting no better than a child himself.
The leaf and the air seemed to pout before the air flounced off, leaving the leaf alone on the counter.
"You'll be fine," Bob offered, unsure as to how one went about comforting plant matter. "I'm sure it'll grow back."
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 10:17 pm
Back again! Yes, Shirley, it's been quite a week.
It appears my little amusements have found themselves in disagreement all of a sudden.
I was spending last Sunday in bed - enjoyable to say the least - when I heard this awful noise, like a dying camel of some sort, or something equally unpleasant. When I went to the kitchen to see what was going on, I found them, boxing and brandishing knives and engaging in all sorts of other delightful activities. Leaf was hurt, presumably by Air while I was out of the room, and it's been following me around since. It's here right now, in fact.
Leaf's tear hasn't healed, but it has only been a couple of days since the tiff, so I'm sure everything will be fine.
Oh, yes, Shirley? I'm very sorry about the gouges in your counter. I know you can handle it, darling.
--Bob
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Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 6:28 pm
Spring was on its way. Shouko could feel it in the air, the way the gently warming days hinted of a still-distant summer and the way the grass attempted to poke through the snow. There would be flowers soon.
She balanced the flower pot on her hip as she approached the house. So this was where the newest leaf had found its way to. Well, this would be interesting! She set the pot on the steps, tucked a note inside it, and cast one last studious look at the house before hurrying back to headquarters.the letter Dear Robert,
I heard from a little birdie that you found one of our leaves! You might have noticed that its behavior is a bit un-leaflike - don't worry! That's perfectly normal! If you give it proper care, it will grow into a child!
If you have any questions, our headquarters are in Barton. We look forward to meeting you and your little one!
Sincerely, Shouko
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Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 8:32 am
Gardening 101
February 21, 2008
Seven days. That was how long it had taken him to finally plant the damn thing.
He wouldn't have even done that much if the little leaflet hadn't begun to look a bit listless. Future child or not (a fact Robert still didn't believe), the toon didn't want his pet to die.
One trip to the local home supply store later, and the leaf was halfway buried in high-grade topsoil. It looked... comfortable.
Robert set the pot by the kitchen window and tried to forget about it most of the time. He burned the painfully cheery letter.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:03 am
Face
February 22, 2008
The morning after the reluctant planting, Robert went for a walk. It was brisk again, just one week after the weather had been looking up. Robert left the house in what appeared to be nearly nothing, his human suit enough to keep him feeling decent, but definitely not enough to prevent the stares and snickers directed at him once he reached the busier part of town. It was a testament to how preoccupied his mind was that Bob didn't appear to notice.
---
Back at the house, the wispy Reverie found herself hovering over the newly planted living leaf. The former yeti felt a new emotion - jealousy. She too wanted to change, to be looked upon with fright and disgust by the caretaker she shared with the leaf. With this new sense of self came an ever-so-subtle change. The wisp's blues, greens and browns solidified a bit, forming an indistinct mash of color at its center. Another stretch of seconds passed before the colors shifted again, this time pulling together into an infant's chubby face. The newly-formed Oracle sagged, joining her sister on the windowsill for just a moment. Just a moment.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:14 am
Robert may not have believed that the small leaf had a child inside but the leaf knew otherwise and was about to prove it. Scales seemed to etch themselves into the top of the leaf out of nowhere as it began to grow. As this happed it seemed determined to free itself from the pot.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:37 am
Bob had been plagued with sleepless nights for just over a week, so it was surprising that the one morning he had awakened nightmare-free, a whole new sort of bad dream was hatching in his kitchen.
The toon yawned, scuffling from his room over to the refrigerator and glancing at the window seat where the pot was perched. He fished around for some milk, then slowly looked at the pot again. Had it moved? Robert placed the milk on the counter and inched closer to the windowsill. Yes, that could definitely be called movement. And scales. Scales? His attention was momentarily caught by his other "child," the strange wisp of air that had he hadn't seen since soon after the leaf had been planted. Now it was hovering nearby, and the strange baby's face in its depths looked anxious and anticipatory.
Bob kneeled on the cushion beside the sill, curious to see what would happen, but uninterested in actually touching the scaly leaf or its pot.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:42 am
Now with an audience to appreciate its efforts the leaf tried more vigorously to escape. Through sheer luck or determination it got free of the soil and lay on top of it still growing and gaining a strange orange hue in some places.
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:47 am
Now Robert stepped back. Normally he would have been irritated at the dirt that littered his breakfast nook and kitchen floor, but now he just wanted the strange leaf to stop growing.
"Stop," he told it, waving at the leaf as it grew and changed color. When it ignored him, he shifted his waving to the air with the baby's face. "Tell it to stop!"
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 7:52 am
The Eden child within had no intention of stopping its birth into this world and with an almost arrogant flip into the air the leaf split open to reveal the old soul that had been given new life.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2008 1:09 pm
I don't know what to say that wouldn't come off as cruel. If I wasn't afraid that you would one day decide I wasn't fit to live in you and on that day you would take all of these entries and broadcast them over the whole town, I would tell you how much my life... has begun to suck.
But I'm rambling. I'll say this; despite my best efforts to kill them through denial, my entertaining pets have mutated into children. The leaf has sprouted into an unruly little scaly bald girl - I only know the thing's a girl because I took it to a vet who then referred me to a doctor who told me the delightful news - and even though I've only seen the blue and green air thing a couple of times in the past few months, I'm certain now that it has a face. A face!
I don't know how much more I can take of this, darling. I'm not cut out to be a father, and I don't think you're cut out to be a nursemaid when I'm not being a father... which will be most of the time, I can assure you. I thought the wild, baby-giving hand of Gaia had skipped over me, but now I have two crazy spawn.
I can hear Scaly scratching at the door. I'd better go see what she wants.
--Bob
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2008 1:11 pm
Maclah
April 12, 2008
Robert positively glared at the ticket he held in his imitation-skin fingers. He wouldn't have come at all, but with the week he had been having, he was fairly certain something awful would happen if he didn't show up. Besides, it looked like a train ticket. Maybe he had won a trip someplace? He could certainly use one.
Pocketing the strange slip of paper, the 'toon-in-disguise knocked on the door in front of him, the door to the building whose address matched the one on his recently pocketed scrap. He stepped back and swallowed, suddenly nervous for no tangible reason.
The day had been rather long, despite the short time that had passed his head had already slipped twice from its perch above his fist. He was pretty sure that there was a dribble of drool down his front. Inwardly he cringed. He had been sent to organize the pile of boxes that had accumulated within the back corner. yet, he felt completely unmotivated and had started slipping off behind the counter. There was only so long the Portuguese translation of Sherlock Holmes could grip the spontaneous-lingual boy. It wasn't until a sharp rap on the door brought him from a pseudo slumber.
He yawned and stretched the tight muscles of his back. "Prenda sobre." He murmured before toddling over to the door, slumping against the frame. Before opening it. "Cheshire. Eu tenho esperado-oh..." He paused and gave the visitor a sullen glare. "Desculpe-me....er...Can I help?" Sie pulled the door open and waved the man in.
"Yes, I..." Robert reached in his jacket pocket again, pulling out his ticket. "This was, well, it wasn't delivered to me but it was in my house." He didn't want to imply that the house had put it there, but it was altogether possible. Shirley was a very strange place to live.
"Have I won some sort of contest, or a trip..." He let his voice trail off as he entered the room and looked around. This place didn't seem like it could house a train. Maybe these tickets lured people here to have their organs harvested. Robert perked up and a small grin touched his lips. He didn't have any organs. "I was wondering if you could tell me what this was all about."
Sie's brow furrowed as he glanced at the ticket. An odd wave poured over him as bi-colored eyes tumbled onto the object. Something familiar yet so different. He shuddered and took a small step back, looking behind him at the cellar door. "Ticket? Erm..." Another step back before he hit the small counter at which he was previously dozing at.
"I think?" He vaguely gestured towards the basement door, the dim lighting from below did nothing to provide comfort.
"You thought right..." Came a gruff voice from the stairwell. A man, backlit with the eery light stood near the top of the stair, unable to come up further than halfway, or he seemed unwilling. An eye patch masked part of his face revealing a once soft now rather scruffy complexion. Worried brown-red eye gazed out beneath his brown fringe, he seemed upset as always. "The name's Johnathan, please come with me."
Sie had long since jumped and nudged himself behind Robert, standing a fair distance away from both. He really could not wait until his mother came back. He just wanted to go home. Quietly he fled the room.
"Aye, G'bye there shy-one!" Johnathan called with mock cheer as he felt another passenger slip his grasp. "Please. There isn't much time with this one. Get your ticket ready, lets see if you are any better than the last crowd..."
At first, Robert didn't see why the boy was so nervous. Surely he lived here, or at least came by often enough that the cellar would have long ago failed to evoke such strong emotions. It was only when the man appeared in the murk that some of Sie's apprehension rubbed off on the 'toon. So, this was the Kidney Man. Johnathan.
Robert clutched his ticket and nodded, starting toward the basement after the eye patch wearing gentleman. "Not much time," he said absently. He had less than no idea why he was following in the first place. With the kid gone, he could have just as easily turned and ran. Still, what was the harm? Short of finding this place loaded with vats of turpentine, he was in no real danger. Robert removed the sunglasses that were nearly always affixed to his face and pocketed them. "What happened to the last... crowd?"
Johnathan didn’t walk so much as waver down the stairwell. It enough energy to move so far from the Junction, the stairwell normally wouldn’t be able to hold any other presence in its current state. He was stuck while the others were allowed to pass through with ease. He sulked and glared back up at Robert, only half hearing the question.
“The last crowd was a ditz and a poofter. I’m expecting you to be able to at least hold onto your dignity and remember where your feet are placed on your body. We’ll be fine.” Johnathan finished by the time he had de-scaled the stairwell. He looked exhausted, pale almost as he collapsed on what appeared to be a child’s boat. The sleek body was covered in chalk drawings, it was haphazardly nailed and he was pretty sure that the hull had a gap between two boards of wood.
They were standing on a simple concrete platform of what looked like a ‘should be’ train station. There were tracks running within the depression, several in fact. The tracks looked worn, but still functional, unlike the rest of the station. On both ends there was stonewall, haphazard and thrown in place. Needless to say it completely closed the tracks in. Nothing should be able to get in or out. A few meters away from the boat was a small hut like box, resembling a ticket box or a conductors hut but void of life. Oddly enough the station was less musty than it was on a good day. The scent of O-zone pervading the platform as if a preemptive notion for the pending arrival.
He glanced at the small conductor’s hut in the center of the platform and chucked a nearby rock at the door. A moment slid pass and Johnathan shook his head before making his way over to a bench, clipboard waiting. He checked something off, scribbled something here, and made an angry note there. The rugged conductor fiddled with his eye patch as he glanced over the paper.
“That seems about right.” Johnathan muttered as he pulled out a sleek golden pocket watch, flipping it open and checking the time. “What’s the use…” Again muttered to himself as he closed the watch, placing it in his pocket before flinging a hand out towards Robert. “Ticket, please.”
"Ah," Robert said, in response to, well, everything. Not much of what was coming out of this strange man's mouth made sense to him, but he was sure he could keep his wits about him long enough to figure out what was going on, not like these other people Johnathan spoke of. Maybe the trip he was about to take had been too much for them.
He looked past the chalked-up boat to the worn tracks before holding out his ticket. "I'm Robert," he offered, fairly certain that if his impromptu train trip was departing from here, it might be nice if Johnathan knew his name as well.
Johnathan paused, glancing up as if assessing the man before him, and gave the biggest smile his glum face could handle. In fact, he was sure his cheek had just cupped around the eye patch. "Nice to meet you Robert." And then all at once, it fell into the most sardonic expression. "I don't care."
He huffed, bringing the pen to paper once more and scribbling down another abhorrent note. "Go wait by the tracks. She'll get here when she gets here."
He was about to walk off to the bench, bowler cap appearing out of no where in his grasp. "Oh yes. That would be carriage 3, row 14 by the window."
No sooner had the words left his mouth a rushing sensation filled the room, as if a vacuum had been placed on the sealed wall. The sound of screeching steel and the scent of burning oil mixed with the o-zone within the station, preemptive strike smothered with the scent of steam engine. The chugging slowed and a large red train with the name Naviat emblazoned on the side pulled into the station. Impossible, yes, yet somehow it managed to happen. There was a loud whistle before the doors opened and then there was only silence and the comforting hum of the steam engine.
There were about a hundred things Robert wanted to say to the man - 'You're not very nice,' 'What do I want with your smelly train anyway?' and 'How's that constipation working out for you?' were just a sampling - but instead he bit his lip and nodded. "Okaaay," he exhaled, assuming that this 'she' was the train and receiving confirmation of that when it whooshed into the station out of nowhere. He might have even jumped a little.
"Take care and all that," Robert said as he stepped off of the platform. There was no reason he couldn't continue to be polite, even if Johnathan's attitude had put him in a bit of a pissy mood. Now, carriage 3, row 14, window? It didn't take very long before he found his seat, but... someone was already sitting in it. Honestly, in a completely empty train? What were the odds?
"Excuse me?" Robert said, currently oblivious to the fact that the person in his seat was only a little girl. "I believe that seat is mine."
The lighting had been dimmed, the train car free of the oppressing smoke that had billowed within the station before. Not that scent mattered, but O-Zone would fill any normal human’s nostrils as they stepped onto The Naviat. Something was odd, unsettling. Even if the organs were missing, Robert would definitely feel something akin to a stomach whop. But that was beside the point. The cabin was chilled, as if the train had just come from somewhere at a high altitude, frost covered the outside of the windows, a feature not seen externally. Pay no mind to the small orange child sitting impassively in the seat. Her brown eyes were large, waiting somewhat patiently. However, the air of content was slightly broken by a slipper clad foot tapping against the seat before her. However everything seemed to stop when the voice reached her. It was show time.
The very orange girl turned in her seat and looked over its back at Robert, who was still slightly behind the row they had both claimed. Her breath was visible as she spoke, even though Robert hadn't yet noticed the chill. "Mine," she said. It wasn't immediately obvious whether or not she was doing more than parroting her new guardian, but everything became clear when she threw her arms over the back of the seat and said, "This's mine."
Well! Robert had never met such an objectionable child, save for the one who was currently living in his house. Instead of arguing, he huffed into a seat across the aisle and waited, continuing to appear ignorant of the strange feel the interior of this train possessed. It was certainly unsettling. Equally unsettling was the fact that, after ten minutes and no new passengers, the train still had yet to leave the station. Casting a sideways glance at the spiky little girl - she was staring - Robert rose to his feet and headed back down the aisle. He hadn't made it more than five steps before he felt a little foot step on the back of his shoe and arms wrap around his lower half.
"Mine," the now-clinging little girl repeated. She looked up at Robert with innocent-seeming eyes and smiled.
"No, I'm not," the 'toon corrected. He successfully disengaged the child's arms from his body, continued through the train and stepped back onto the platform. The girl followed, of course, but Robert ignored her. "Can you please tell me what's going on?" he asked the platform, or Johnathan, or anyone else who was currently in the vicinity. "We aren't going anywhere, and this child is harassing me! And your train... it's very cold." He almost added 'and it makes me jumpy inside' before he thought better of it.
There was a huddled figure on the boat, now small wooden raft opposed to the child's boat. He had been long since forgotten as the trained pulled in and he quite wanted to keep it that way. Johnathan huffed and burrowed further into himself all the while muttering "no no no. MakehimgoawayIdon'twanttodealwithhim now!" He sat up abruptly his single eye boring into Robert.
"Robert, was it? I'll call you Rob, or maybe even moron." He paused and calmed himself, keeping his anger in check. A finger trailed over a scar on his hand, subconsciously attempting to calm himself. "I like to think myself a reasonable man. That's what we're lacking. The train comes, it drops off a kid, you take the kid before I can. Or at least that's the overall notion he gives."
He gave a whithering sigh before picking up another stone and chucking it at the structure. "Leaving me to deal with the cargo? How long will this last?!" He squawked out before turning towards Robert. Heavily disheveled.
"Pardon me. I'm sorry for that. It's been a rough 20 years." He sat back down onto the boat, which had taken shape during his tirade as a swan peddle boat. "Tell me about your problems." He said in a mock psychiatric tone.
"It...it's all right," Robert said, inching toward the stairs and as far from the shapeshifting boat and its crazy captain as he could manage. "No apologies necessary. And no problems either. Nothing to tell!" The child from the train had resumed her grabby hands routine, but this time it was clearly out of fear. She did not want to be left behind and Robert didn't have the heart to leave her, even going so far as to clasp her small hand in his own as he made for the exit. Damn kids.
"Thank you, I suppose," he said dryly as he started his climb back up the stairs and back home.
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