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 Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 7:13 am
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Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 7:55 am
 Pancakes The insides of things were so interesting.
It was like a puzzle, but a complicated one. One made up of tendons and ligaments, blood and muscle. Of course, Atticus didn’t know the names for those things, bar blood. Rett liked to read to him and he, though still a tiny thing, loved the stories and struggled to follow along. He could almost write his name. Sometimes, they did puzzles for fun. This was like a puzzle; only the pieces didn’t fit just right, anymore, and somewhere in that stinky, messy gore was a life that flickered out. He somehow came to the conclusion that even if it were put back together correctly, that life wouldn’t come back.
The venipede child crouched, his knees drawn to his chest as his large, curious green eyes roved over the sight just ahead of him. One arm was wrapped tightly about his legs, his chin resting on the knobby bit of his knees, while his right arm was outstretched, a sharp stick clutched firmly in one hand.
A rabbit, the creature that had him so firmly enraptured, was the subject of his puzzlement. He wouldn’t touch it. It was rank and nasty looking and he was quite the clean and orderly fellow, despite his age. He didn’t like getting dirty and whenever Rett brought out the washbasin, he was more than delighted to get all clean and sudsy. Still, just by looking at the stiff thing, he could tell it wasn’t warm, anymore. A poke from the tip of his miniature spear only proved just how stiff the thing was. It was rigid and didn’t give way, like some living thing would. A shame, rabbits were adorable. He loved to watch them munch away on weeds and hay. This one wouldn’t do that, anymore.
Hey… Where did food go after it was eaten, anyway?
The subject of his speculations had long been dead, at least by a day’s length. It had been run over by a cart, though the child had no idea about this. All he knew was something had practically eviscerated it’s middle and he was keen to know what.
“Sorry, mister rabbit… Maybe we can find out, though.” Gloves weren’t that hard to come by, after all. He lifted his head, glancing this way and that down the long path that lead outside of the Hearts faction territory. He wasn’t allowed to go too much further, so it was a good thing his new, little friend wound up so close to the stables! He stood and dusted himself off with his free hand, before tromping into the sprawling woodlands that engulfed either side of the road. If he could find another decent sized stick, he could use it to lift the little critter off the road and into the underbrush, where he hoped no predators would find it. He could get a hold of gloves easily enough in the stables.
After some time rummaging about, he finally found a stick that looked substantial enough and scurried back towards the dusty path. Just as he was about to set into his grisly deed of moving the unfortunately deceased critter, a voice rang out in the distance.
“ATTICUS! ATTICUS, IT’S GETTING LATE! TIME TO COME IN!”
The boy scowled at the sound of his caretaker’s voice and peered up towards the sky. Sure enough, it would be getting dark soon. Blast it all! He hurried about his task best he could, prizing the pancake critter off the road. He tossed it off the path, out of sight, and scratched the dirt with the end of one of the gore-smeared sticks, before tossing them in, too.
There, he’d easily be able to see where to check, come sunrise.
He fled quickly, his tiny feet pounding on the dirt road. He didn’t want Rett to come looking for him, else the old Psyduck might not let him loose to play, come morning.
Word Count: 657
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Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 8:55 pm
Uncertainty “There’s something strange about that boy, I tell you what.”
“Shh, don’t let him hear you.”
“He’s asleep in the loft. Besides, chances are he wouldn’t even understand what we’re talking about.”
“Sure he would. Still, it isn’t right. Odd things been turning up.”
The old psyduck’s eyes narrowed unhappily as he scolded the younger stablehand, an uppity young zubat, named Stan, who had worked alongside him for many, many years. He had a firm frown set on his lips and his brows were furrowed a tad as he threw a challenge to Rett. There was something strange about the child and Rett couldn’t deny it, but he certainly didn’t want to admit it. He planned on finding someone else to raise the child, after he had hatched, but he was lonely and his heart was in the right place. He missed rearing his own children.
“Don’t change the fact that there’s something wrong with him. You’ve seen the looks he gives when you don’t give him what he wants? They could slice through wood better than an axe, I’d wager. He feels almost dangerous, sometimes. And then there are the little… presents I keep finding out in the woods around here.”
“He’s just a little thing. He don’t know any better and you know it. All kids get like that at that age. Selfish cos they just don’t know any better yet.” Their voices were still fairly low as they discussed the little venipede, Rett being quite worried that they would be overheard. They were in the barn, both sitting at an old wooden table they had often played cards and chess at, but there were no games to be had that evening.
“Just take it into consideration, Rett. I worry about you, you know I do. Maybe it’s best to find him someone what will watch him in the Queen’s court. Would keep him pretty occupied and we wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout a little toddler running underfoot while trying to work with the horses. I hate to point it out, but you aren’t as young as you used to be”
“I’ve raised plenty of eggs back in the day, don’t patronize me, Stan.” The kindly, older fellow’s voice took a harder edge as he glowered at his younger assistant. The look of annoyance and frustration certainly seemed strange on his face, which was usually creased with kindly lines.
“I’m not. Just think of it, one concerned friend to another… I just… I been finding things, Rett. Dead things. All ‘round the property and I dunno where they’ve been coming from, but I’ve got a good guess. Just this afternoon, I found a rabbit that had been gutted.”
Ah, so they had found it, then.
Atticus watched silently from his “room” in the loft, his usually brilliant, green eyes seemed dulled and worried. He didn’t like Stan. Now, for the first time in his life, he was considering horrible things, like how good that b*****d’s head would look mounted on the wall. He didn’t want to be taken away from Rett. He dearly liked Rett. It had been two days since he returned to study the rabbit’s entrails. He thought he hid it well enough. He thought he hid all of them well enough, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.
He never killed any of them. He liked animals far too much to harm them, but the knowledge their bodies had to offer after death were too enticing. He’d have to be more careful, from now on.
“I don’t want to discuss the matter further, Stan. Maybe there’s a loose dog hanging around. Now, off you go. I’ll see you in the morning.” He was firm as he led the younger stablehand out. He was too tired for this sort of thing.
Word Count: 635
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Posted: Sun Jun 24, 2012 2:18 am
Love “Atticus, come here, will you?”
Rett called out to his son from the entrance of the quaint cottage that the old psyduck called home. The boy lived in the loft of the neighboring barn, or at least he had until Rett had decided that he should stay closer to him, so that he would have closer supervision. Although he didn’t want to believe in the things Stan had been warning him about the boy, he had a sneaking suspicion that the boy did need much more attention than the average child his age.
Atticus had been playing in the front yard carefully. The boy was always so clean, almost unnaturally so. Almost every other egg he had hatched and raised had consisted of little ones who did not care if they were covered in mud or grass stains. This one was different. He didn’t like to be dirty and he enjoyed bath time. He played in the suds and splished and splashed until his little heart was content. He also liked to dress well, which was difficult to afford under the income of the horse trainer, but he did his best to make the child happy.
The little venipede perked up, his wide eyes turning towards the cottage’s front. He was dressed in his best, eager to impress the stupid farmhands that he aspired to be greater than. He wanted to make them jealous. They would look up to him. But for now, he was just a child. He’d been picking flowers in the front yard and a grin lit up his face at the sound of his own name. He might hate many of the others, but he loved Rett. The child quickly scurried towards the door, a bounce in his step.
“Yes, papa?”
“Aren’t you ready? We’re heading to the castle, today. We need new books, right? Where else to visit but the library? Maybe Mr. Preston will have something new and exciting for us to read.” Rett wasn’t that well educated and his reading skills were limited, but that didn’t stop him from trying to educate the seemingly voracious child. The light that suddenly entered the little one’s face was enough to brighten his day.
“The lieberry? Really?” He squeaked with delight and did a little hop-skip of victory. He liked the library. It was dusty, old, and quiet. It was amazingly entertaining and a little book could transport him to another land, another reality, one infinitely more entertaining than his own, or it could provide him with a wealth of information. He was a tinkerer. He liked to understand how things worked and why they worked, and the library was the absolute best place for him to find such information. Plus, he liked Preston. Why did Malo get to have such a cool guardian? Awell. He still loved Rett as much as he could love anyone or anything.
“Yep, the library. Grab your sack, we need to head out before it gets too late. Wanna get home in time to nestle in bed and read a nice story, don’t you?”
Atticus just ate up the warmth that Rett’s smile and shoulder pat gave him and he eagerly gathered his satchel together. He loved the library.
Word Count: 539
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 11:31 pm
False News Travels Fast The day his gelding had been murdered was singly the most terrible day in Atticus’s short life. In one heinous plot, Malo had not only destroyed what little family the venipede had, he also destroyed what could have been with that family. His life had been turned upside down, his world had been shaken to its core, and the look on Rett’s aging face was enough to make Atticus, the usually stoic and emotionless child, sob.
He sat in the cold, dark, dank dungeon. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him, just that his future was up in the air. What did they usually do to horse killers? Chop off their hands? Slowly pull out their guts on a spindle? Decapitate them in front of an audience after? Maybe put them on a wrack? All these terrible things made the boy turn in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees, which were pinned to his chest. The chair he was seated in was less than comfortable and was virtually the only décor in his cell. Well, other than the chamber pot. He hadn’t felt the need to eat or s**t at all since arriving, however. The look on Rett’s face had been heartbreaking.
He stiffened as he heard rather large footsteps outside his cell door. His emerald eyes were wide in a primal fear he had never known in the past. Maybe this was what people felt like before they died. He’d finally know that answer… Oh, and the answer to what happened to the mind when it was no longer attached to a living body. Death was not to come to him on this day, however, nor on any day soon. He trembled as a rather imposing figure entered. The golurk was large. His clothing was well worn, yet neatly kept simultaneously. He was obviously one who commanded respect and got it, whether by force or other means.
“You’re lucky you’re only a child.” He scoffed, his burly arms folded as he glared down at the boy, his new charge. “Horse killers don’t get off light in any community, especially one that depends on them as much as Hearts does. If it were up to most anyone, you’d be left in here to rot for the rest of your life. Fortunately, what happens to you gets to be decided by me this time. You will, from here on out, be my child. Your life as a farmhand ends now.”
The insect boy trembled and nodded his head, afraid to speak. So he wasn’t going to die? And he wasn’t going to rot in here? What would happen to him, then?
“From here on out, you will assist me with my duties. You will work here in the dungeons. When you aren’t working here, you will be participating in community service or running errands. You will do as I say and come when I call you. You do not have to call me your father if you do not wish to do so, but Rett is no longer your guardian or your father. All rights to raising you have been revoked. If anyone asks, you report to Ivan. If anyone bothers you, you tell me. You will have access to education, something you probably would never have had if you remained working with the horses. You will be grateful and you will not, I repeat, will not be murdering or tormenting anymore defenseless animals. If caught doing so, you will receive a severe beating. Do you understand?”
Again, he nodded his head. He was shaking like a leaf, which pleased the golurk. He had to make a good first impression on his new, apparently violent charge, after all. The boy didn’t have a speck of blood on him when he had been apprehended and the scene had been a particularly gory one. He had a sneaking suspicion that the boy was innocent, but what could he do? He could raise him as his own and curb his peculiar tendencies. If he was a murderer, well, he could curb those tendencies, too. He’d find a way to make this boy fit in and thrive.
Word Count: 697
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