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…
“Where are the candles!?”
“Ten more minutes?”
“You forgot the bed!”
“Someone forgot to wipe the TV!!!”
“I need more green and yellow!”
“He pushed me again!”
“She’s lying!”
“No I’m not!”
“I need green and yellow!”
“Ten more minutes?”
The orphanage has turned into an utter chaos, if it were ever possible. The kids were completely disorganized in their organization yet, they were managing to somehow follow through everything they had set out to do. Half of them were busy either preparing birthday cards and pictures to hang on the wall. The other half were busy making cake in the kitchen despite all the flour, dough and pots littering the tables. The third half was busy cleaning after every mess that was made by the two, as soon as they were made. The bucket had managed to cross each room about seven times already, and based on another yell from the kitchen, will likely go for eighth. Now, as for every other room besides the two that kids were currently occupying, those were sparkling clean. There was no dirt, no web, no paint, no smudge and not even a speck of dust left anywhere in what would have been otherwise an unkempt house. Even Matthew was impressed by it, as he noticed that they managed to a small crevice on the underside of the window frame.
“Mister Matthew!” The goose boy turned his long neck back to find the young bat running up to him. She held a large poster board, same one they found in their closet earlier, now adorned with awfully lined and spelt “HAPPY BIRTDAY MISS CHESHYRE!!!!”
While he eyed at it in revulsion, she pushed it right into his hands without a thought.
“Could you please help us with hanging this?” she asked him nicely. “We’d like to put it up on the kitchen,” she pointed to the kitchen, currently being wrecked by the little tykes, “so that she would see it immediately once she finds us with her cake. We’ll also be hiding when she comes and then yell ‘Surpise!’ at her. You could join us if you want to.”
“Oh, uh, my, that is, exceptionally considerate,” the goose muttered, eyes still fixed on the poster. He noticed they used two different shades of yellow on the same letter. He said absent-mindedly, “I am always eager to help. Of course, I’ll suspend it in the kitchen…later…when no one is in there. But, I don’t think I’ll stay here to commemorate the birthday of your caretaker,” he said in the end.
Lily nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s okay. Thanks a lot for helping us! I knew I should’ve come to you, since you are the tallest. Even Tiana isn’t as tall as you!”
Matthew nodded back, half-heartedly. To be fair, that seven-year-old girl was only a head shorter than he was.
Suddenly, he was bumped from behind, nearly knocking the poster off his hands. The young penguin fell on the ground, while two other boys ran in, then immediately ran away before they could get caught. Lily immediately went in to help the penguin kid.
“Brian, Yuri! Stop teasing and help everyone with drawing!” She dusted the penguin boy. “You okay, Bobby?”
The penguin nodded. “Yeah, I am. Sorry for bumping into you, mister robber!”
“I am not..!” the kid left before he could finish sentence.
Matthew shook his head. These kids were beyond undisciplined, they were probably unfamiliar with the concept of order that did not involve throwing objects left and right while sticking their boogers at them. As he passed by the living room to get to the kitchen, he managed to take a glance at the pictures they were making. If he had some reservations towards the poster he was holding, they were nothing compared to these monstrosities. Jumbled with words, carelessly thrown-in colors, no use of negative space whatsoever, and one kid tried to put in “ELEGIAC as a word. Did they tried to sound smart by doing so? Matthew shook his head some more.
“This is going to be the best birthday party!” said Mimmy, running past him.
“Be careful!” said Lily. The young bat shook her head, visually disapproving of this behavior. “Kids these days, huh?” she said to Matthew. The goose glanced at pictures again, and then cleared his throat.
“Um, may I ask a question?”
Lily lowered her hands and took more attentive pose.
“Well, how to say this, do you think it would be alright to hang those pictures up the wall?”
Lily looked at him with confusion.
“I’m just saying…don’t you think you could do better? Perhaps we should re-do the pictures, into something more presentable?”
“Huh? But they are great,” Lily retorted.
“No, they aren’t.”
“Really? Well, I think they are.”
“What about your childcarer? Are these not for her? What would she think?”
Lily looked at the pictures, then put her chin on her fingers to think. Matthew believed that his point was rather clear here. He could always help them with making these better, if they are willing to listen to his expert opinion.
“She’d probably grouch,” Lily finally replied, “and say ‘Why did you make such a mess!’ before telling us to sit down in the kitchen. Then make us eat and then we go up to our rooms to sleep.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“So, it is obvious that she won’t like it, correct?”
“I guess,” Lily slowly admitted. But then quickly added, “I still think our pictures are great.”
“Well, I believe you would be better,” Matthew carefully put down the poster, “if I help you with remaking them into something much more presentable!”
“Oh? How will you do that?”
Matthew reached into the middle of the table to get a sheet of paper and some colored pencils. One kid, a young cat-girl, complained at him for bumping into her and nearly spilling her cup of apple juice. The goose boy then went to a separate table in the living room and then sat next to its corner.
“By showing you HOW it is supposed to be done!” Matthew explained, as he commenced to draw.
Thus he guided his hand to draw the picture, now with meticulous care and professionalism of only someone like him could muster. He knew of his talents, and was proud of them. There was a reason he was awarded as the best presented during each of his class projects for seven years in a row. And thus, it was time for him to bestow up them the miracles of his talents. Matthew gave satisfactory honk, as he was about to finish his first, beautifully drawn vertical line from the letter “H”.
“What is he doing?” Bobby asked while turning in his seat. Lily quickly put back up the cup he accidentally knocked over, though some of the water had already spilt on his sheet.
“I think he is trying to help…maybe,” she said, then went to get some napkins.
…
The weather has become far too gloomy. In more accurate way to say, it has become completely disgusting, depressingly unwelcoming and impossible to deal with. In fact, one could, while walking in the middle of the road, just choose to lie down on the dirt itself and choose to perish.
That was the feeling that Miss Cheshire was giving of with her demeanor. Her sour visage, her cold stare, her extremely worn out clothes, all help with the idea that nothing was going to go right that day. Even asking her felt dreadful, as one could only expect a cutting remark and a wish to end it all already. And truth be told, she was almost convincing about it.
She had to leave the orphanage for a little while and regretted that every minute. Leaving the house to the kids by themselves, who knows which one of them might get sick or get hurt if she were away. Of course, the newest child just came and seemed responsible, but then again, that might just be a front for the adults. She could not be certain that everything will turn out alright. Especially since that stupid bird asked her to help him out. She knew what trouble she was getting herself into. She understood it very well, in fact. But if she could still use the bathroom, she would shower immediately. Sadly, the gnawing gloom would not leave her soul, not yet.
She kept walking forward, her gaze nowhere higher than the road she had to cross. Thankfully, she was alone for most of her journey, allowing her to sulk in peace, until finally a single figure stumbled into her view. Miss Cheshire made a low, prolonged growl, then pulled her coat tighter and made her head go even lower. It was a drunkard, she was sure of it. And all she had to d o was simply pass him by without looking in his direction. If he were to start something, she would just ignore him. Nothing more.
What she did not know, at first, was that that person was not drunk at all. Only later had she became aware that he was, in fact, delirious instead. He wore a clown costume, his face paint had smudge and scratch marks, and he was growling at every direction. It was quite a sight, one she rarely had displeasure seeing most of the time. This sparked in her this hidden feeling she thought she’d never get in her life again, called “curiosity.” And, much to her chagrin, this caused the clown to notice her as well.
“Who ruined your day, huh!!?” the clown spat at her direction. The old cat finally pulled her eyes, then huffed at herself for that moment of weakness. However, that reaction was not taken well by the clown. “You rolled your eyes at me…didn’t you!?” he exclaimed at the last part.
She scratched her cheek, then pulled on her hat more. She was trying to play up the image of an old, deaf lady. No matter what, she thought, do not pay attention to him.
“DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH, I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
She would not turn her head. Her will was iron clad.
On the other hand, the clown’s patience seemed to have deteriorated. He was gritting his teeth, and red embers were emerging from his cracked-marble cheek. He kept on staring at her, as if he was waiting for a reason to attack her.
And to a certain white crow, this was not good at all. He was watching the scene with eyes bigger than the bush he was hiding behind.
This is bad, panicked Pierre in his head. If what you said is true, this could be extremely bad!
<What are you referring to, Young Pierre?> calmly replied Fotia. Despite Pierre’s anxiety-driven outburst, he was in full control of the boy’s body. He would have liked if his eyes would stop bugging out.
About the Torques! The thing you said about the Torques! Fotia could feel his beak chatter. The boy’s fears had suddenly taken over his body, making it harder to pull of stealth. We need to do something, Pierre kept telling him. He might turn her into another Torque!
“Old laaaaaaady!” the clown sang to her in a tune.
Pierre’s heart sank, and Fotia felt that too. For some reason, the idea of the old lady turning into a Torque just completely terrified the poor boy.
That said, the clown did not look furious at all, not like before. Actually, he seemed more playful.
“Did you know,” the clown slid himself to get in front of her, “that making a frown takes several more face muscles than to make a smile? And using so many muscle must really cause a lot of wrinkles to pop up!”
Miss Cheshire face was no different than the marble faces of those Torques. No matter what the clown said, not even a twitch could be seen on it. And suddenly, the clown’s cracks began to flare up in hot ember again.
“Maybe you should learn to smile a bit more, HUH!? How about a show of teeth!? Maybe you need to learn actually being happy, and not be a miserable, ugly wretch? WELL!!!?”
The two birds stared at the scene with trepidation. The old lady kept on walking for a five more steps, until she stopped. Fotia noticed his arms clasping his own beak, probably because it was Pierre’s own reaction at this. They watched the old cat lady turned around.
She took one long, hard look at the clown. Despite the cracks, the fumes of fire, the most disgusting set of clothes and the bloodthirsty stare of his, she did not cringe nor fall aghast from him. She simply moved her narrow gaze down, then up, and then sighed.
“Do you not have anything else to do young man, than harass an old lady?” she said, in a calm and tired tone. She pointed on the road away from her, “The community centre has been rebuilt recently. Do pay a visit, when you feel like it.”
She turned around, and then returned back to her walk.
The clown’s face did not move. It was frozen in place, as if she just enchanted him with some sort of a spell. Fotia was too, perhaps due to Pierre still awaiting for something else to happen. However, as the lady kept on moving, gaining some distance, and even passing through the bush that Fotia hid in, nothing happened. Simply nothing, at all, happened.
And then, his phone rang.
Miss Cheshire spun her head, and also, the clown did as well. Fotia reached down for his pants and pulled his phone which had a call from Flora. He could hear Pierre yell in panic over the inopportune time of the call, over the old lady coming over them to ask, “What are you doing here, young man?” in her nasally-growly voice, and over the clown, who was clutching a dark clump of energy in his hands.
As the clown came closer, Fotia couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders.
Guess this was it.
…
“He is not answering.” Flora put away the phone and eyed the monster again. She turned to Barbie, “Ok, plan B then. Go get Fotia using your super speed, while I look over the monster, and make sure he won’t eat anyone who decided to pass by this alley. Do you remember where you saw the bird boy?”
“Of course I do!” Barbie exclaimed.
“Good! Now, when you go there, remember that he likely left that spot, like Rose said. Get him, come back here, and then we….deal with the rest.”
Barbie gave her a salute. “Sure thing, oh fearless leader!” She then giggled, clearly having fun at playing this role, right before leaving her.
Flora rolled her eyes, but her smile never left her.
“Like, of all the things that could’ve happened today, I never thought it’d be this.” She looked at Rose, whose expression was very focused. “Is something the matter, Rose?”
“The clown has disappeared, once again,” Rose replied sadly. “What sort of sorcery has he been using now…I wonder…”
Rose mind entered a state of complete concentration. It was an impenetrable wall, and Flora knew well she couldn’t go through it. Might as well leave her to do…whatever she is doing right now, Flora thought.
“HELLLOOOOO!!! Can anyone see meee!?”
Flora looked down again. The monster had stopped trying to pull itself up, around two minutes ago. That said, it had chosen to simply wait instead, perhaps under some unsupported belief that she might go down to it instead. Meanwhile, Mandy had been shouting from inside of the thing for ten minutes straight now. Flora and Barbie had tried to reach her back, but she couldn’t hear them. Barbie suggested that either, one, the monster doesn’t like to swallow noise, or two, maybe inside him is really big and she is actually far away. Flora opted to just try and message her, instead of thinking on that.
“Hey, Mandy.
Are you okay?
It’s me, Flora.”
She stared at the screen for a moment. Few thoughts came up to her mind, specifically of her friends. She thought about Barbie’s words again. She considered on Rose’s own teaching, about the sacrifices she had to make and focusing on the bigger goals. The young deer considered her next action with every point of view she had. In the end, she came to a decision.
“I was the lady with the bow earlier,” she wrote.
And she hit send.
She looked down again, then to Rose, who was deep in her concentration, and then to her phone again. After a minute, it dinged to signify a reply. It was from Mandy.
Flora let go of her lip.
…
-----------------------------------------
…
“Where are the candles!?”
“Ten more minutes?”
“You forgot the bed!”
“Someone forgot to wipe the TV!!!”
“I need more green and yellow!”
“He pushed me again!”
“She’s lying!”
“No I’m not!”
“I need green and yellow!”
“Ten more minutes?”
The orphanage has turned into an utter chaos, if it were ever possible. The kids were completely disorganized in their organization yet, they were managing to somehow follow through everything they had set out to do. Half of them were busy either preparing birthday cards and pictures to hang on the wall. The other half were busy making cake in the kitchen despite all the flour, dough and pots littering the tables. The third half was busy cleaning after every mess that was made by the two, as soon as they were made. The bucket had managed to cross each room about seven times already, and based on another yell from the kitchen, will likely go for eighth. Now, as for every other room besides the two that kids were currently occupying, those were sparkling clean. There was no dirt, no web, no paint, no smudge and not even a speck of dust left anywhere in what would have been otherwise an unkempt house. Even Matthew was impressed by it, as he noticed that they managed to a small crevice on the underside of the window frame.
“Mister Matthew!” The goose boy turned his long neck back to find the young bat running up to him. She held a large poster board, same one they found in their closet earlier, now adorned with awfully lined and spelt “HAPPY BIRTDAY MISS CHESHYRE!!!!”
While he eyed at it in revulsion, she pushed it right into his hands without a thought.
“Could you please help us with hanging this?” she asked him nicely. “We’d like to put it up on the kitchen,” she pointed to the kitchen, currently being wrecked by the little tykes, “so that she would see it immediately once she finds us with her cake. We’ll also be hiding when she comes and then yell ‘Surpise!’ at her. You could join us if you want to.”
“Oh, uh, my, that is, exceptionally considerate,” the goose muttered, eyes still fixed on the poster. He noticed they used two different shades of yellow on the same letter. He said absent-mindedly, “I am always eager to help. Of course, I’ll suspend it in the kitchen…later…when no one is in there. But, I don’t think I’ll stay here to commemorate the birthday of your caretaker,” he said in the end.
Lily nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s okay. Thanks a lot for helping us! I knew I should’ve come to you, since you are the tallest. Even Tiana isn’t as tall as you!”
Matthew nodded back, half-heartedly. To be fair, that seven-year-old girl was only a head shorter than he was.
Suddenly, he was bumped from behind, nearly knocking the poster off his hands. The young penguin fell on the ground, while two other boys ran in, then immediately ran away before they could get caught. Lily immediately went in to help the penguin kid.
“Brian, Yuri! Stop teasing and help everyone with drawing!” She dusted the penguin boy. “You okay, Bobby?”
The penguin nodded. “Yeah, I am. Sorry for bumping into you, mister robber!”
“I am not..!” the kid left before he could finish sentence.
Matthew shook his head. These kids were beyond undisciplined, they were probably unfamiliar with the concept of order that did not involve throwing objects left and right while sticking their boogers at them. As he passed by the living room to get to the kitchen, he managed to take a glance at the pictures they were making. If he had some reservations towards the poster he was holding, they were nothing compared to these monstrosities. Jumbled with words, carelessly thrown-in colors, no use of negative space whatsoever, and one kid tried to put in “ELEGIAC as a word. Did they tried to sound smart by doing so? Matthew shook his head some more.
“This is going to be the best birthday party!” said Mimmy, running past him.
“Be careful!” said Lily. The young bat shook her head, visually disapproving of this behavior. “Kids these days, huh?” she said to Matthew. The goose glanced at pictures again, and then cleared his throat.
“Um, may I ask a question?”
Lily lowered her hands and took more attentive pose.
“Well, how to say this, do you think it would be alright to hang those pictures up the wall?”
Lily looked at him with confusion.
“I’m just saying…don’t you think you could do better? Perhaps we should re-do the pictures, into something more presentable?”
“Huh? But they are great,” Lily retorted.
“No, they aren’t.”
“Really? Well, I think they are.”
“What about your childcarer? Are these not for her? What would she think?”
Lily looked at the pictures, then put her chin on her fingers to think. Matthew believed that his point was rather clear here. He could always help them with making these better, if they are willing to listen to his expert opinion.
“She’d probably grouch,” Lily finally replied, “and say ‘Why did you make such a mess!’ before telling us to sit down in the kitchen. Then make us eat and then we go up to our rooms to sleep.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“So, it is obvious that she won’t like it, correct?”
“I guess,” Lily slowly admitted. But then quickly added, “I still think our pictures are great.”
“Well, I believe you would be better,” Matthew carefully put down the poster, “if I help you with remaking them into something much more presentable!”
“Oh? How will you do that?”
Matthew reached into the middle of the table to get a sheet of paper and some colored pencils. One kid, a young cat-girl, complained at him for bumping into her and nearly spilling her cup of apple juice. The goose boy then went to a separate table in the living room and then sat next to its corner.
“By showing you HOW it is supposed to be done!” Matthew explained, as he commenced to draw.
Thus he guided his hand to draw the picture, now with meticulous care and professionalism of only someone like him could muster. He knew of his talents, and was proud of them. There was a reason he was awarded as the best presented during each of his class projects for seven years in a row. And thus, it was time for him to bestow up them the miracles of his talents. Matthew gave satisfactory honk, as he was about to finish his first, beautifully drawn vertical line from the letter “H”.
“What is he doing?” Bobby asked while turning in his seat. Lily quickly put back up the cup he accidentally knocked over, though some of the water had already spilt on his sheet.
“I think he is trying to help…maybe,” she said, then went to get some napkins.
…
The weather has become far too gloomy. In more accurate way to say, it has become completely disgusting, depressingly unwelcoming and impossible to deal with. In fact, one could, while walking in the middle of the road, just choose to lie down on the dirt itself and choose to perish.
That was the feeling that Miss Cheshire was giving of with her demeanor. Her sour visage, her cold stare, her extremely worn out clothes, all help with the idea that nothing was going to go right that day. Even asking her felt dreadful, as one could only expect a cutting remark and a wish to end it all already. And truth be told, she was almost convincing about it.
She had to leave the orphanage for a little while and regretted that every minute. Leaving the house to the kids by themselves, who knows which one of them might get sick or get hurt if she were away. Of course, the newest child just came and seemed responsible, but then again, that might just be a front for the adults. She could not be certain that everything will turn out alright. Especially since that stupid bird asked her to help him out. She knew what trouble she was getting herself into. She understood it very well, in fact. But if she could still use the bathroom, she would shower immediately. Sadly, the gnawing gloom would not leave her soul, not yet.
She kept walking forward, her gaze nowhere higher than the road she had to cross. Thankfully, she was alone for most of her journey, allowing her to sulk in peace, until finally a single figure stumbled into her view. Miss Cheshire made a low, prolonged growl, then pulled her coat tighter and made her head go even lower. It was a drunkard, she was sure of it. And all she had to d o was simply pass him by without looking in his direction. If he were to start something, she would just ignore him. Nothing more.
What she did not know, at first, was that that person was not drunk at all. Only later had she became aware that he was, in fact, delirious instead. He wore a clown costume, his face paint had smudge and scratch marks, and he was growling at every direction. It was quite a sight, one she rarely had displeasure seeing most of the time. This sparked in her this hidden feeling she thought she’d never get in her life again, called “curiosity.” And, much to her chagrin, this caused the clown to notice her as well.
“Who ruined your day, huh!!?” the clown spat at her direction. The old cat finally pulled her eyes, then huffed at herself for that moment of weakness. However, that reaction was not taken well by the clown. “You rolled your eyes at me…didn’t you!?” he exclaimed at the last part.
She scratched her cheek, then pulled on her hat more. She was trying to play up the image of an old, deaf lady. No matter what, she thought, do not pay attention to him.
“DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH, I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
She would not turn her head. Her will was iron clad.
On the other hand, the clown’s patience seemed to have deteriorated. He was gritting his teeth, and red embers were emerging from his cracked-marble cheek. He kept on staring at her, as if he was waiting for a reason to attack her.
And to a certain white crow, this was not good at all. He was watching the scene with eyes bigger than the bush he was hiding behind.
This is bad, panicked Pierre in his head. If what you said is true, this could be extremely bad!
<What are you referring to, Young Pierre?> calmly replied Fotia. Despite Pierre’s anxiety-driven outburst, he was in full control of the boy’s body. He would have liked if his eyes would stop bugging out.
About the Torques! The thing you said about the Torques! Fotia could feel his beak chatter. The boy’s fears had suddenly taken over his body, making it harder to pull of stealth. We need to do something, Pierre kept telling him. He might turn her into another Torque!
“Old laaaaaaady!” the clown sang to her in a tune.
Pierre’s heart sank, and Fotia felt that too. For some reason, the idea of the old lady turning into a Torque just completely terrified the poor boy.
That said, the clown did not look furious at all, not like before. Actually, he seemed more playful.
“Did you know,” the clown slid himself to get in front of her, “that making a frown takes several more face muscles than to make a smile? And using so many muscle must really cause a lot of wrinkles to pop up!”
Miss Cheshire face was no different than the marble faces of those Torques. No matter what the clown said, not even a twitch could be seen on it. And suddenly, the clown’s cracks began to flare up in hot ember again.
“Maybe you should learn to smile a bit more, HUH!? How about a show of teeth!? Maybe you need to learn actually being happy, and not be a miserable, ugly wretch? WELL!!!?”
The two birds stared at the scene with trepidation. The old lady kept on walking for a five more steps, until she stopped. Fotia noticed his arms clasping his own beak, probably because it was Pierre’s own reaction at this. They watched the old cat lady turned around.
She took one long, hard look at the clown. Despite the cracks, the fumes of fire, the most disgusting set of clothes and the bloodthirsty stare of his, she did not cringe nor fall aghast from him. She simply moved her narrow gaze down, then up, and then sighed.
“Do you not have anything else to do young man, than harass an old lady?” she said, in a calm and tired tone. She pointed on the road away from her, “The community centre has been rebuilt recently. Do pay a visit, when you feel like it.”
She turned around, and then returned back to her walk.
The clown’s face did not move. It was frozen in place, as if she just enchanted him with some sort of a spell. Fotia was too, perhaps due to Pierre still awaiting for something else to happen. However, as the lady kept on moving, gaining some distance, and even passing through the bush that Fotia hid in, nothing happened. Simply nothing, at all, happened.
And then, his phone rang.
Miss Cheshire spun her head, and also, the clown did as well. Fotia reached down for his pants and pulled his phone which had a call from Flora. He could hear Pierre yell in panic over the inopportune time of the call, over the old lady coming over them to ask, “What are you doing here, young man?” in her nasally-growly voice, and over the clown, who was clutching a dark clump of energy in his hands.
As the clown came closer, Fotia couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders.
Guess this was it.
…
“He is not answering.” Flora put away the phone and eyed the monster again. She turned to Barbie, “Ok, plan B then. Go get Fotia using your super speed, while I look over the monster, and make sure he won’t eat anyone who decided to pass by this alley. Do you remember where you saw the bird boy?”
“Of course I do!” Barbie exclaimed.
“Good! Now, when you go there, remember that he likely left that spot, like Rose said. Get him, come back here, and then we….deal with the rest.”
Barbie gave her a salute. “Sure thing, oh fearless leader!” She then giggled, clearly having fun at playing this role, right before leaving her.
Flora rolled her eyes, but her smile never left her.
“Like, of all the things that could’ve happened today, I never thought it’d be this.” She looked at Rose, whose expression was very focused. “Is something the matter, Rose?”
“The clown has disappeared, once again,” Rose replied sadly. “What sort of sorcery has he been using now…I wonder…”
Rose mind entered a state of complete concentration. It was an impenetrable wall, and Flora knew well she couldn’t go through it. Might as well leave her to do…whatever she is doing right now, Flora thought.
“HELLLOOOOO!!! Can anyone see meee!?”
Flora looked down again. The monster had stopped trying to pull itself up, around two minutes ago. That said, it had chosen to simply wait instead, perhaps under some unsupported belief that she might go down to it instead. Meanwhile, Mandy had been shouting from inside of the thing for ten minutes straight now. Flora and Barbie had tried to reach her back, but she couldn’t hear them. Barbie suggested that either, one, the monster doesn’t like to swallow noise, or two, maybe inside him is really big and she is actually far away. Flora opted to just try and message her, instead of thinking on that.
“Hey, Mandy.
Are you okay?
It’s me, Flora.”
She stared at the screen for a moment. Few thoughts came up to her mind, specifically of her friends. She thought about Barbie’s words again. She considered on Rose’s own teaching, about the sacrifices she had to make and focusing on the bigger goals. The young deer considered her next action with every point of view she had. In the end, she came to a decision.
“I was the lady with the bow earlier,” she wrote.
And she hit send.
She looked down again, then to Rose, who was deep in her concentration, and then to her phone again. After a minute, it dinged to signify a reply. It was from Mandy.
Flora let go of her lip.
…
EVO 2022 LETS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…
“Where are the candles!?”
“Ten more minutes?”
“You forgot the bed!”
“Someone forgot to wipe the TV!!!”
“I need more green and yellow!”
“He pushed me again!”
“She’s lying!”
“No I’m not!”
“I need green and yellow!”
“Ten more minutes?”
The orphanage has turned into an utter chaos, if it were ever possible. The kids were completely disorganized in their organization yet, they were managing to somehow follow through everything they had set out to do. Half of them were busy either preparing birthday cards and pictures to hang on the wall. The other half were busy making cake in the kitchen despite all the flour, dough and pots littering the tables. The third half was busy cleaning after every mess that was made by the two, as soon as they were made. The bucket had managed to cross each room about seven times already, and based on another yell from the kitchen, will likely go for eighth. Now, as for every other room besides the two that kids were currently occupying, those were sparkling clean. There was no dirt, no web, no paint, no smudge and not even a speck of dust left anywhere in what would have been otherwise an unkempt house. Even Matthew was impressed by it, as he noticed that they managed to a small crevice on the underside of the window frame.
“Mister Matthew!” The goose boy turned his long neck back to find the young bat running up to him. She held a large poster board, same one they found in their closet earlier, now adorned with awfully lined and spelt “HAPPY BIRTDAY MISS CHESHYRE!!!!”
While he eyed at it in revulsion, she pushed it right into his hands without a thought.
“Could you please help us with hanging this?” she asked him nicely. “We’d like to put it up on the kitchen,” she pointed to the kitchen, currently being wrecked by the little tykes, “so that she would see it immediately once she finds us with her cake. We’ll also be hiding when she comes and then yell ‘Surpise!’ at her. You could join us if you want to.”
“Oh, uh, my, that is, exceptionally considerate,” the goose muttered, eyes still fixed on the poster. He noticed they used two different shades of yellow on the same letter. He said absent-mindedly, “I am always eager to help. Of course, I’ll suspend it in the kitchen…later…when no one is in there. But, I don’t think I’ll stay here to commemorate the birthday of your caretaker,” he said in the end.
Lily nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s okay. Thanks a lot for helping us! I knew I should’ve come to you, since you are the tallest. Even Tiana isn’t as tall as you!”
Matthew nodded back, half-heartedly. To be fair, that seven-year-old girl was only a head shorter than he was.
Suddenly, he was bumped from behind, nearly knocking the poster off his hands. The young penguin fell on the ground, while two other boys ran in, then immediately ran away before they could get caught. Lily immediately went in to help the penguin kid.
“Brian, Yuri! Stop teasing and help everyone with drawing!” She dusted the penguin boy. “You okay, Bobby?”
The penguin nodded. “Yeah, I am. Sorry for bumping into you, mister robber!”
“I am not..!” the kid left before he could finish sentence.
Matthew shook his head. These kids were beyond undisciplined, they were probably unfamiliar with the concept of order that did not involve throwing objects left and right while sticking their boogers at them. As he passed by the living room to get to the kitchen, he managed to take a glance at the pictures they were making. If he had some reservations towards the poster he was holding, they were nothing compared to these monstrosities. Jumbled with words, carelessly thrown-in colors, no use of negative space whatsoever, and one kid tried to put in “ELEGIAC as a word. Did they tried to sound smart by doing so? Matthew shook his head some more.
“This is going to be the best birthday party!” said Mimmy, running past him.
“Be careful!” said Lily. The young bat shook her head, visually disapproving of this behavior. “Kids these days, huh?” she said to Matthew. The goose glanced at pictures again, and then cleared his throat.
“Um, may I ask a question?”
Lily lowered her hands and took more attentive pose.
“Well, how to say this, do you think it would be alright to hang those pictures up the wall?”
Lily looked at him with confusion.
“I’m just saying…don’t you think you could do better? Perhaps we should re-do the pictures, into something more presentable?”
“Huh? But they are great,” Lily retorted.
“No, they aren’t.”
“Really? Well, I think they are.”
“What about your childcarer? Are these not for her? What would she think?”
Lily looked at the pictures, then put her chin on her fingers to think. Matthew believed that his point was rather clear here. He could always help them with making these better, if they are willing to listen to his expert opinion.
“She’d probably grouch,” Lily finally replied, “and say ‘Why did you make such a mess!’ before telling us to sit down in the kitchen. Then make us eat and then we go up to our rooms to sleep.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“So, it is obvious that she won’t like it, correct?”
“I guess,” Lily slowly admitted. But then quickly added, “I still think our pictures are great.”
“Well, I believe you would be better,” Matthew carefully put down the poster, “if I help you with remaking them into something much more presentable!”
“Oh? How will you do that?”
Matthew reached into the middle of the table to get a sheet of paper and some colored pencils. One kid, a young cat-girl, complained at him for bumping into her and nearly spilling her cup of apple juice. The goose boy then went to a separate table in the living room and then sat next to its corner.
“By showing you HOW it is supposed to be done!” Matthew explained, as he commenced to draw.
Thus he guided his hand to draw the picture, now with meticulous care and professionalism of only someone like him could muster. He knew of his talents, and was proud of them. There was a reason he was awarded as the best presented during each of his class projects for seven years in a row. And thus, it was time for him to bestow up them the miracles of his talents. Matthew gave satisfactory honk, as he was about to finish his first, beautifully drawn vertical line from the letter “H”.
“What is he doing?” Bobby asked while turning in his seat. Lily quickly put back up the cup he accidentally knocked over, though some of the water had already spilt on his sheet.
“I think he is trying to help…maybe,” she said, then went to get some napkins.
…
The weather has become far too gloomy. In more accurate way to say, it has become completely disgusting, depressingly unwelcoming and impossible to deal with. In fact, one could, while walking in the middle of the road, just choose to lie down on the dirt itself and choose to perish.
That was the feeling that Miss Cheshire was giving of with her demeanor. Her sour visage, her cold stare, her extremely worn out clothes, all help with the idea that nothing was going to go right that day. Even asking her felt dreadful, as one could only expect a cutting remark and a wish to end it all already. And truth be told, she was almost convincing about it.
She had to leave the orphanage for a little while and regretted that every minute. Leaving the house to the kids by themselves, who knows which one of them might get sick or get hurt if she were away. Of course, the newest child just came and seemed responsible, but then again, that might just be a front for the adults. She could not be certain that everything will turn out alright. Especially since that stupid bird asked her to help him out. She knew what trouble she was getting herself into. She understood it very well, in fact. But if she could still use the bathroom, she would shower immediately. Sadly, the gnawing gloom would not leave her soul, not yet.
She kept walking forward, her gaze nowhere higher than the road she had to cross. Thankfully, she was alone for most of her journey, allowing her to sulk in peace, until finally a single figure stumbled into her view. Miss Cheshire made a low, prolonged growl, then pulled her coat tighter and made her head go even lower. It was a drunkard, she was sure of it. And all she had to d o was simply pass him by without looking in his direction. If he were to start something, she would just ignore him. Nothing more.
What she did not know, at first, was that that person was not drunk at all. Only later had she became aware that he was, in fact, delirious instead. He wore a clown costume, his face paint had smudge and scratch marks, and he was growling at every direction. It was quite a sight, one she rarely had displeasure seeing most of the time. This sparked in her this hidden feeling she thought she’d never get in her life again, called “curiosity.” And, much to her chagrin, this caused the clown to notice her as well.
“Who ruined your day, huh!!?” the clown spat at her direction. The old cat finally pulled her eyes, then huffed at herself for that moment of weakness. However, that reaction was not taken well by the clown. “You rolled your eyes at me…didn’t you!?” he exclaimed at the last part.
She scratched her cheek, then pulled on her hat more. She was trying to play up the image of an old, deaf lady. No matter what, she thought, do not pay attention to him.
“DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH, I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
She would not turn her head. Her will was iron clad.
On the other hand, the clown’s patience seemed to have deteriorated. He was gritting his teeth, and red embers were emerging from his cracked-marble cheek. He kept on staring at her, as if he was waiting for a reason to attack her.
And to a certain white crow, this was not good at all. He was watching the scene with eyes bigger than the bush he was hiding behind.
This is bad, panicked Pierre in his head. If what you said is true, this could be extremely bad!
<What are you referring to, Young Pierre?> calmly replied Fotia. Despite Pierre’s anxiety-driven outburst, he was in full control of the boy’s body. He would have liked if his eyes would stop bugging out.
About the Torques! The thing you said about the Torques! Fotia could feel his beak chatter. The boy’s fears had suddenly taken over his body, making it harder to pull of stealth. We need to do something, Pierre kept telling him. He might turn her into another Torque!
“Old laaaaaaady!” the clown sang to her in a tune.
Pierre’s heart sank, and Fotia felt that too. For some reason, the idea of the old lady turning into a Torque just completely terrified the poor boy.
That said, the clown did not look furious at all, not like before. Actually, he seemed more playful.
“Did you know,” the clown slid himself to get in front of her, “that making a frown takes several more face muscles than to make a smile? And using so many muscle must really cause a lot of wrinkles to pop up!”
Miss Cheshire face was no different than the marble faces of those Torques. No matter what the clown said, not even a twitch could be seen on it. And suddenly, the clown’s cracks began to flare up in hot ember again.
“Maybe you should learn to smile a bit more, HUH!? How about a show of teeth!? Maybe you need to learn actually being happy, and not be a miserable, ugly wretch? WELL!!!?”
The two birds stared at the scene with trepidation. The old lady kept on walking for a five more steps, until she stopped. Fotia noticed his arms clasping his own beak, probably because it was Pierre’s own reaction at this. They watched the old cat lady turned around.
She took one long, hard look at the clown. Despite the cracks, the fumes of fire, the most disgusting set of clothes and the bloodthirsty stare of his, she did not cringe nor fall aghast from him. She simply moved her narrow gaze down, then up, and then sighed.
“Do you not have anything else to do young man, than harass an old lady?” she said, in a calm and tired tone. She pointed on the road away from her, “The community centre has been rebuilt recently. Do pay a visit, when you feel like it.”
She turned around, and then returned back to her walk.
The clown’s face did not move. It was frozen in place, as if she just enchanted him with some sort of a spell. Fotia was too, perhaps due to Pierre still awaiting for something else to happen. However, as the lady kept on moving, gaining some distance, and even passing through the bush that Fotia hid in, nothing happened. Simply nothing, at all, happened.
And then, his phone rang.
Miss Cheshire spun her head, and also, the clown did as well. Fotia reached down for his pants and pulled his phone which had a call from Flora. He could hear Pierre yell in panic over the inopportune time of the call, over the old lady coming over them to ask, “What are you doing here, young man?” in her nasally-growly voice, and over the clown, who was clutching a dark clump of energy in his hands.
As the clown came closer, Fotia couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders.
Guess this was it.
…
“He is not answering.” Flora put away the phone and eyed the monster again. She turned to Barbie, “Ok, plan B then. Go get Fotia using your super speed, while I look over the monster, and make sure he won’t eat anyone who decided to pass by this alley. Do you remember where you saw the bird boy?”
“Of course I do!” Barbie exclaimed.
“Good! Now, when you go there, remember that he likely left that spot, like Rose said. Get him, come back here, and then we….deal with the rest.”
Barbie gave her a salute. “Sure thing, oh fearless leader!” She then giggled, clearly having fun at playing this role, right before leaving her.
Flora rolled her eyes, but her smile never left her.
“Like, of all the things that could’ve happened today, I never thought it’d be this.” She looked at Rose, whose expression was very focused. “Is something the matter, Rose?”
“The clown has disappeared, once again,” Rose replied sadly. “What sort of sorcery has he been using now…I wonder…”
Rose mind entered a state of complete concentration. It was an impenetrable wall, and Flora knew well she couldn’t go through it. Might as well leave her to do…whatever she is doing right now, Flora thought.
“HELLLOOOOO!!! Can anyone see meee!?”
Flora looked down again. The monster had stopped trying to pull itself up, around two minutes ago. That said, it had chosen to simply wait instead, perhaps under some unsupported belief that she might go down to it instead. Meanwhile, Mandy had been shouting from inside of the thing for ten minutes straight now. Flora and Barbie had tried to reach her back, but she couldn’t hear them. Barbie suggested that either, one, the monster doesn’t like to swallow noise, or two, maybe inside him is really big and she is actually far away. Flora opted to just try and message her, instead of thinking on that.
“Hey, Mandy.
Are you okay?
It’s me, Flora.”
She stared at the screen for a moment. Few thoughts came up to her mind, specifically of her friends. She thought about Barbie’s words again. She considered on Rose’s own teaching, about the sacrifices she had to make and focusing on the bigger goals. The young deer considered her next action with every point of view she had. In the end, she came to a decision.
“I was the lady with the bow earlier,” she wrote.
And she hit send.
She looked down again, then to Rose, who was deep in her concentration, and then to her phone again. After a minute, it dinged to signify a reply. It was from Mandy.
Flora let go of her lip.
…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…
“Where are the candles!?”
“Ten more minutes?”
“You forgot the bed!”
“Someone forgot to wipe the TV!!!”
“I need more green and yellow!”
“He pushed me again!”
“She’s lying!”
“No I’m not!”
“I need green and yellow!”
“Ten more minutes?”
The orphanage has turned into an utter chaos, if it were ever possible. The kids were completely disorganized in their organization yet, they were managing to somehow follow through everything they had set out to do. Half of them were busy either preparing birthday cards and pictures to hang on the wall. The other half were busy making cake in the kitchen despite all the flour, dough and pots littering the tables. The third half was busy cleaning after every mess that was made by the two, as soon as they were made. The bucket had managed to cross each room about seven times already, and based on another yell from the kitchen, will likely go for eighth. Now, as for every other room besides the two that kids were currently occupying, those were sparkling clean. There was no dirt, no web, no paint, no smudge and not even a speck of dust left anywhere in what would have been otherwise an unkempt house. Even Matthew was impressed by it, as he noticed that they managed to a small crevice on the underside of the window frame.
“Mister Matthew!” The goose boy turned his long neck back to find the young bat running up to him. She held a large poster board, same one they found in their closet earlier, now adorned with awfully lined and spelt “HAPPY BIRTDAY MISS CHESHYRE!!!!”
While he eyed at it in revulsion, she pushed it right into his hands without a thought.
“Could you please help us with hanging this?” she asked him nicely. “We’d like to put it up on the kitchen,” she pointed to the kitchen, currently being wrecked by the little tykes, “so that she would see it immediately once she finds us with her cake. We’ll also be hiding when she comes and then yell ‘Surpise!’ at her. You could join us if you want to.”
“Oh, uh, my, that is, exceptionally considerate,” the goose muttered, eyes still fixed on the poster. He noticed they used two different shades of yellow on the same letter. He said absent-mindedly, “I am always eager to help. Of course, I’ll suspend it in the kitchen…later…when no one is in there. But, I don’t think I’ll stay here to commemorate the birthday of your caretaker,” he said in the end.
Lily nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s okay. Thanks a lot for helping us! I knew I should’ve come to you, since you are the tallest. Even Tiana isn’t as tall as you!”
Matthew nodded back, half-heartedly. To be fair, that seven-year-old girl was only a head shorter than he was.
Suddenly, he was bumped from behind, nearly knocking the poster off his hands. The young penguin fell on the ground, while two other boys ran in, then immediately ran away before they could get caught. Lily immediately went in to help the penguin kid.
“Brian, Yuri! Stop teasing and help everyone with drawing!” She dusted the penguin boy. “You okay, Bobby?”
The penguin nodded. “Yeah, I am. Sorry for bumping into you, mister robber!”
“I am not..!” the kid left before he could finish sentence.
Matthew shook his head. These kids were beyond undisciplined, they were probably unfamiliar with the concept of order that did not involve throwing objects left and right while sticking their boogers at them. As he passed by the living room to get to the kitchen, he managed to take a glance at the pictures they were making. If he had some reservations towards the poster he was holding, they were nothing compared to these monstrosities. Jumbled with words, carelessly thrown-in colors, no use of negative space whatsoever, and one kid tried to put in “ELEGIAC as a word. Did they tried to sound smart by doing so? Matthew shook his head some more.
“This is going to be the best birthday party!” said Mimmy, running past him.
“Be careful!” said Lily. The young bat shook her head, visually disapproving of this behavior. “Kids these days, huh?” she said to Matthew. The goose glanced at pictures again, and then cleared his throat.
“Um, may I ask a question?”
Lily lowered her hands and took more attentive pose.
“Well, how to say this, do you think it would be alright to hang those pictures up the wall?”
Lily looked at him with confusion.
“I’m just saying…don’t you think you could do better? Perhaps we should re-do the pictures, into something more presentable?”
“Huh? But they are great,” Lily retorted.
“No, they aren’t.”
“Really? Well, I think they are.”
“What about your childcarer? Are these not for her? What would she think?”
Lily looked at the pictures, then put her chin on her fingers to think. Matthew believed that his point was rather clear here. He could always help them with making these better, if they are willing to listen to his expert opinion.
“She’d probably grouch,” Lily finally replied, “and say ‘Why did you make such a mess!’ before telling us to sit down in the kitchen. Then make us eat and then we go up to our rooms to sleep.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“So, it is obvious that she won’t like it, correct?”
“I guess,” Lily slowly admitted. But then quickly added, “I still think our pictures are great.”
“Well, I believe you would be better,” Matthew carefully put down the poster, “if I help you with remaking them into something much more presentable!”
“Oh? How will you do that?”
Matthew reached into the middle of the table to get a sheet of paper and some colored pencils. One kid, a young cat-girl, complained at him for bumping into her and nearly spilling her cup of apple juice. The goose boy then went to a separate table in the living room and then sat next to its corner.
“By showing you HOW it is supposed to be done!” Matthew explained, as he commenced to draw.
Thus he guided his hand to draw the picture, now with meticulous care and professionalism of only someone like him could muster. He knew of his talents, and was proud of them. There was a reason he was awarded as the best presented during each of his class projects for seven years in a row. And thus, it was time for him to bestow up them the miracles of his talents. Matthew gave satisfactory honk, as he was about to finish his first, beautifully drawn vertical line from the letter “H”.
“What is he doing?” Bobby asked while turning in his seat. Lily quickly put back up the cup he accidentally knocked over, though some of the water had already spilt on his sheet.
“I think he is trying to help…maybe,” she said, then went to get some napkins.
…
The weather has become far too gloomy. In more accurate way to say, it has become completely disgusting, depressingly unwelcoming and impossible to deal with. In fact, one could, while walking in the middle of the road, just choose to lie down on the dirt itself and choose to perish.
That was the feeling that Miss Cheshire was giving of with her demeanor. Her sour visage, her cold stare, her extremely worn out clothes, all help with the idea that nothing was going to go right that day. Even asking her felt dreadful, as one could only expect a cutting remark and a wish to end it all already. And truth be told, she was almost convincing about it.
She had to leave the orphanage for a little while and regretted that every minute. Leaving the house to the kids by themselves, who knows which one of them might get sick or get hurt if she were away. Of course, the newest child just came and seemed responsible, but then again, that might just be a front for the adults. She could not be certain that everything will turn out alright. Especially since that stupid bird asked her to help him out. She knew what trouble she was getting herself into. She understood it very well, in fact. But if she could still use the bathroom, she would shower immediately. Sadly, the gnawing gloom would not leave her soul, not yet.
She kept walking forward, her gaze nowhere higher than the road she had to cross. Thankfully, she was alone for most of her journey, allowing her to sulk in peace, until finally a single figure stumbled into her view. Miss Cheshire made a low, prolonged growl, then pulled her coat tighter and made her head go even lower. It was a drunkard, she was sure of it. And all she had to d o was simply pass him by without looking in his direction. If he were to start something, she would just ignore him. Nothing more.
What she did not know, at first, was that that person was not drunk at all. Only later had she became aware that he was, in fact, delirious instead. He wore a clown costume, his face paint had smudge and scratch marks, and he was growling at every direction. It was quite a sight, one she rarely had displeasure seeing most of the time. This sparked in her this hidden feeling she thought she’d never get in her life again, called “curiosity.” And, much to her chagrin, this caused the clown to notice her as well.
“Who ruined your day, huh!!?” the clown spat at her direction. The old cat finally pulled her eyes, then huffed at herself for that moment of weakness. However, that reaction was not taken well by the clown. “You rolled your eyes at me…didn’t you!?” he exclaimed at the last part.
She scratched her cheek, then pulled on her hat more. She was trying to play up the image of an old, deaf lady. No matter what, she thought, do not pay attention to him.
“DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH, I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
She would not turn her head. Her will was iron clad.
On the other hand, the clown’s patience seemed to have deteriorated. He was gritting his teeth, and red embers were emerging from his cracked-marble cheek. He kept on staring at her, as if he was waiting for a reason to attack her.
And to a certain white crow, this was not good at all. He was watching the scene with eyes bigger than the bush he was hiding behind.
This is bad, panicked Pierre in his head. If what you said is true, this could be extremely bad!
<What are you referring to, Young Pierre?> calmly replied Fotia. Despite Pierre’s anxiety-driven outburst, he was in full control of the boy’s body. He would have liked if his eyes would stop bugging out.
About the Torques! The thing you said about the Torques! Fotia could feel his beak chatter. The boy’s fears had suddenly taken over his body, making it harder to pull of stealth. We need to do something, Pierre kept telling him. He might turn her into another Torque!
“Old laaaaaaady!” the clown sang to her in a tune.
Pierre’s heart sank, and Fotia felt that too. For some reason, the idea of the old lady turning into a Torque just completely terrified the poor boy.
That said, the clown did not look furious at all, not like before. Actually, he seemed more playful.
“Did you know,” the clown slid himself to get in front of her, “that making a frown takes several more face muscles than to make a smile? And using so many muscle must really cause a lot of wrinkles to pop up!”
Miss Cheshire face was no different than the marble faces of those Torques. No matter what the clown said, not even a twitch could be seen on it. And suddenly, the clown’s cracks began to flare up in hot ember again.
“Maybe you should learn to smile a bit more, HUH!? How about a show of teeth!? Maybe you need to learn actually being happy, and not be a miserable, ugly wretch? WELL!!!?”
The two birds stared at the scene with trepidation. The old lady kept on walking for a five more steps, until she stopped. Fotia noticed his arms clasping his own beak, probably because it was Pierre’s own reaction at this. They watched the old cat lady turned around.
She took one long, hard look at the clown. Despite the cracks, the fumes of fire, the most disgusting set of clothes and the bloodthirsty stare of his, she did not cringe nor fall aghast from him. She simply moved her narrow gaze down, then up, and then sighed.
“Do you not have anything else to do young man, than harass an old lady?” she said, in a calm and tired tone. She pointed on the road away from her, “The community centre has been rebuilt recently. Do pay a visit, when you feel like it.”
She turned around, and then returned back to her walk.
The clown’s face did not move. It was frozen in place, as if she just enchanted him with some sort of a spell. Fotia was too, perhaps due to Pierre still awaiting for something else to happen. However, as the lady kept on moving, gaining some distance, and even passing through the bush that Fotia hid in, nothing happened. Simply nothing, at all, happened.
And then, his phone rang.
Miss Cheshire spun her head, and also, the clown did as well. Fotia reached down for his pants and pulled his phone which had a call from Flora. He could hear Pierre yell in panic over the inopportune time of the call, over the old lady coming over them to ask, “What are you doing here, young man?” in her nasally-growly voice, and over the clown, who was clutching a dark clump of energy in his hands.
As the clown came closer, Fotia couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders.
Guess this was it.
…
“He is not answering.” Flora put away the phone and eyed the monster again. She turned to Barbie, “Ok, plan B then. Go get Fotia using your super speed, while I look over the monster, and make sure he won’t eat anyone who decided to pass by this alley. Do you remember where you saw the bird boy?”
“Of course I do!” Barbie exclaimed.
“Good! Now, when you go there, remember that he likely left that spot, like Rose said. Get him, come back here, and then we….deal with the rest.”
Barbie gave her a salute. “Sure thing, oh fearless leader!” She then giggled, clearly having fun at playing this role, right before leaving her.
Flora rolled her eyes, but her smile never left her.
“Like, of all the things that could’ve happened today, I never thought it’d be this.” She looked at Rose, whose expression was very focused. “Is something the matter, Rose?”
“The clown has disappeared, once again,” Rose replied sadly. “What sort of sorcery has he been using now…I wonder…”
Rose mind entered a state of complete concentration. It was an impenetrable wall, and Flora knew well she couldn’t go through it. Might as well leave her to do…whatever she is doing right now, Flora thought.
“HELLLOOOOO!!! Can anyone see meee!?”
Flora looked down again. The monster had stopped trying to pull itself up, around two minutes ago. That said, it had chosen to simply wait instead, perhaps under some unsupported belief that she might go down to it instead. Meanwhile, Mandy had been shouting from inside of the thing for ten minutes straight now. Flora and Barbie had tried to reach her back, but she couldn’t hear them. Barbie suggested that either, one, the monster doesn’t like to swallow noise, or two, maybe inside him is really big and she is actually far away. Flora opted to just try and message her, instead of thinking on that.
“Hey, Mandy.
Are you okay?
It’s me, Flora.”
She stared at the screen for a moment. Few thoughts came up to her mind, specifically of her friends. She thought about Barbie’s words again. She considered on Rose’s own teaching, about the sacrifices she had to make and focusing on the bigger goals. The young deer considered her next action with every point of view she had. In the end, she came to a decision.
“I was the lady with the bow earlier,” she wrote.
And she hit send.
She looked down again, then to Rose, who was deep in her concentration, and then to her phone again. After a minute, it dinged to signify a reply. It was from Mandy.
Flora let go of her lip.
…
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 120px
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