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 Posted: Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:05 pm
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Posted: Fri May 06, 2011 8:16 pm
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 7:57 am
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 11:22 am
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 7:11 pm
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Sleepless
It was dark in the room, but since he felt safe here the darkness didn't bother him as he lie awake. His glowing eyes cast a faint light, just enough for him to see comfortably. Lights would be nicer, but they would disturb his brother...
Flopping onto his side, Jove watched the gryphon as he slept. Ren had always been a fitful sleeper, but the pup knew it had gotten worse since the island. There were frequently moments where Ren would make faces, and his breathing patterns would be more erratic, sometimes he even made unhappy noises in his sleep to indicate nightmares. In the worst of those moments, Jove would sit up himself, and pet Ren's hair while humming a little thing that might have been a song, and might have been just comforting noise. Sometimes it helped the gryphon relax again. But more often than not it didn't, and Jove would have to wake the other boil up from his nightmares. It meant he would have some company, but the pup knew it was important for his brother to sleep so he would tuck Ren back in and snuggle with him until he was sufficiently reassured for sleeping. And if Jove was successful, he would be alone with his thoughts again.
Aside from his brother's troubles, the night was quiet and endless to the child. He had slept maybe once or twice since the island, but if he let his thoughts slip his mind would wander back to recent events... The island and it's strange voices, Seiji falling, Junko being impaled, Ren's admission that he had died as well in the pup's absence... It would remind him how badly they had all been broken, and he would have to fight off the terrors that would seize him. So the pup had long since given up on sleep.
Instead of engaging in that once-pleasant pastime, Jove once again found other things to occupy his night. Ren's room was always comfortable, but especially so when it was just himself and the gryphon. There were no worries of waking up any of the others as he pulled out pencils to draw, or wandered around looking for more of Ren's books to read in the dark. Jove was not interested in fiction, but he read through Ren's textbooks and course work at a voracious speed and learned the material even for classes he hadn't been taking. If he was thinking ahead he would pick up a book from the library and leave it in his brother's room for night-time material. But he often got tired of reading before the night was through.
Sometimes when Ren was sleeping well he would braid the gryphon's hair so it was all wavy on one side in the morning. Other times he would just lie on his side and watch his brother breathing, and put one hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Sometimes he would even snuggle next to Ren and lay one fluffy ear right against his chest. Once he had even painted Ren's nails with something Alessa had left. It lightened his heart somewhat to remember the few days Ren had spent smelling like a thousand stinkbugs, with bright pink hair just that colour, but the pup couldn't hold that feeling very long before the dark sobered his mood once again. It was just so lonely at night...
He would brush his tail in the dark, or maybe brush his teeth with Ren's toothbrush, and occasionally he would do stranger things to fill his nights. That was how he learned he could fit in the cupboard under Ren's bathroom sink, even in his human form, or that his fingers would brush the ceiling if he jumped just high enough in the right places. He even started to cultivate a pair of tiny glowing mushrooms in a rusty old tuna can under his brother's bed. The pup could just lie on his belly under there and look at the little mushrooms for an hour at a time, admiring their delicate gills and the subtle pattern on their caps.
It wasn't until light began to appear in the east that Jove even bothered to look out the window, and then he would watch the sun rise. He liked the way the light would creep through the trees at first, and then send it's exploratory rays farther as if feeling it's way across the ground. Then things would start to get noisier as other students rose for the day, with breakfasts to eat, pets to care for, and classes to attend, all as though no time had passed since they had gone to bed for the night. It almost made Jove feel like time was standing still for him alone, wrapped up into a little pocket of eternity just his size.
It was with some difficulty he was able to pull free of that clinging apathy and start each day along with his peers, harder still knowing that in mere hours he would find himself back in the darkness and waiting out the night. Maybe with Ren, maybe with Yaya, maybe even in his own room... But just as lonely as ever.
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Posted: Wed Nov 09, 2011 7:01 am
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Correspondence
Jove sighed as he returned to his room after classes, opening the door and slogging through a wave of happy little foxfires to collapse on the couch. He felt worn down, pulled too thin, and more tired than he had been in weeks. So he just lay there as his fluffy little friends swarmed over him, poking him all over with their little feet and jostling each other to lick his face and hands.
It was hard to feel down when a dozen little fluffy things were showering you with attention.After a minute he ruffled some fluffy heads, and sat up to get started on something he had been procrastinating on for days. Writing a letter.
Jove had hardly written to his caretaker since his return from the island, he had just been so full of worry and doubt that it was difficult to write more than a short paragraph before sending it off. So when he sat down on the floor and arranged a pencil and sheet of paper in front of him, he launched right into it.
This was a bit of a rough start... Maybe if he just started writing whatever was on his mind it would go smoother, rather than trying to compose everything in his head. When he tried to think about what to say the only thing that came to mind was what he didn't want to say. So instead he let his mind wander.
Quote: "Thank you for the socks you sent. I like to wear them when it's cold, Ren says I can spend the night with him any time I want much more often if I'm wearing socks. It's my cold feet, I think. I can't warm up the way he can, but I don't think it's because he breathes and has a heartbeat and I don't. Do you know why I'm always the temperature of everything around me and he's warm?"
Jove sighed, resting his cheek in one palm, elbow leaning against the desk as he wrote. It was one thing he envied about his brother, always being warm. He had only felt that way during a long, hot bath, when he'd turn up the temperature so the water steamed and stayed warm for at least an hour. Then he could be warm for a bit, but he cooled down quickly.
Quote: "I signed up for some more classes, in Human Studies we made a boat. We rode on boats when we went on the trip, but I never thought they could be so useful for scaring humans on."
The pup paused, now he was getting into the thoughts that kept him from writing, all the worries and fears that had accumulated during that event. He had wrote very little to his caretaker about the events that had taken place, referring to it only vaguely as "the trip" here and there. After taking a minute to recompose himself, he continued to write.
Quote: "My boat floated really well. Some students sank theirs, but you had to make sure it could float first, right? How else would humans get out into a place where they could be sunk properly? Can you write to me about the human world? I know you said that's where I came from, but I still don't know much about humans or scaring. I try so hard"
Jove paused. He tried so hard to do well at the academy, but he was so small, and so frightened. The pup still hadn't been able to conquer his fear of being grabbed and caught... He erased that bit and tried again.
Quote: "I still don't know much about humans or scaring, but I've met lots of friends who might be able to show me. Ren has a really huge natural form, and it sort of scared me the first time I saw it. I bet he could eat a whole human! I hope he can come visit soon, maybe for summer vacation. Can he come and stay? He doesn't eat too much, and can sleep in my room if all the other rooms are taken. And I can make sure he doesn't transform in the house!"
The little boil seemed fairly certain his caretaker would allow a visit, but he made sure to address all the concerns he could imagine. Then he continued, his mind wandering to his Ren-related concerns, and then back to classes.
Quote: "I signed up for a FEARhealing class. It might be too hard for me since I'm only in first year, but I really need to learn this. Yaya broke her ankle, and can't walk right now, and Ren's hand hurts him after the trip."
The pup frowned, dropping his arm and resting his chin on the table as he continued to write, ears flopped back against his head.
Quote: "And Ren has these marks on his back. Sort of like my bruises, but different. I don't know what they are. He says the aren't something I should worry about, but they hurt him too. In a different way. When he talked about them it was almost with the same face as when he talked about the trip, and what happened there. It's like it hurts inside more than outside. I want to fix that too."
Jove's ears flattened back further, and he finally admitted to something that had been on his mind, a thing he had not wanted to tell his caretaker.
Quote: "I might not be moving onto year two, but I will try my hardest to get into this class."
He hadn't even spoke to Ren about not advancing in school because he was so ashamed of it. Jove might have come a long way, learning to read and write, pulling long nights with books from the library to catch up and make his classes less confusing, and then working hard to keep up with his schoolwork... He didn't give himself enough credit for his accomplishments.
Quote: "I hope you can still be proud of me."
That was it. The biggest fear that had kept him from writing. After putting it on paper the little ghostling felt both relieved and sad, finally facing that worry head-on. He signed his name, sealed the envelope, and hoped he would have the courage to mail it.
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Posted: Tue Nov 15, 2011 7:42 am
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Just One Year
Summer was approaching. Even without the bustle of the students following their calendar years and October schedules, Jove could smell the change in the plants, and feel it in the way the breeze shifted to bring in precarious weather at what seemed like random intervals. It was the expressions of nature he remembered more than the days and weeks he had learned to count that heralded the hotter seasons.
He was almost a year old, to the best of his recollection.
A year ago he had been little more than a stray foxfire. All the running and fleeing, even being chased by children and threatened as a mongrel by adults, that had been his life. He didn't eat, and didn't sleep, he just cowered in one hiding spot and then the next, moving on when something bigger chased him out. Usually it was streets and buildings, sometimes fields with carnivorous cattle and nasty little grass sprites that would pull on his fur and try to hitch a ride on his back. He remembered one lonely respite in a forest, safe and exhausted amongst the mushrooms nestled in the hollow under a tree stump. But it had only been a couple days before he was chased out of there too.
Streets and towns were busy and frightening, but the wilderness held too many dangers for a stray wisp, with only enough FEAR to make a bite-sized snack for something larger.
Clinging to the edges of civilization had been his best bet, and he ran and ran every time someone tried to take him. Sometimes he was able to run through things, always spur-of-the-moment, and never planned. Even now with half a year's training at the academy he couldn't force himself through objects. It had been pure luck he had phased through his caretaker's storm-cellar door and found himself trapped in the large wine cellar.
He could still remember the panic, it had been some children with a dog who had chased him through the wrought-iron fence surrounding his caretaker's property, and then a nasty flock of startled quail who had scared him through the old wooden doors. And then he was running on stone floors with only his own light to illuminate the place, when he ran headlong into what appeared to be the safest hiding place...
But was really just a lobster trap, with a pair of old blankets tossed over top.
Jove snorted, thinking about how silly he had been. For a moment, he had felt perfectly safe and comfortable inside that trap, under the blankets, because it was small and snug, and had been used so long ago that it smelled more like rot than sea water. And then his caretaker had come down to the cellar to select that evening's wine.
It was odd thinking back on it, knowing what he knew now. His caretaker had left him in the trap until he had stopped thrashing about, carrying the entire thing up to the kitchen and talking to him all the while in a tone Jove now knew to be reassuring. He wasn't sure he had stopped freaking out for the first three days he had been at the Manor. He had been mostly stunned all the way through his first meal, his first bath, his first brushing... He had been too worn out to do anything other than stare piteously and tremble. But his caretaker seemed to have patience.
It wasn't until several days later they had developed a routine of sorts. Jove would follow him around the house, sometimes trying to hide in shadowy areas, and sometimes peering from around corners, but always on his heels trying to figure out the dedication he felt towards the old man. And in return for his constant, if not obvious companionship, his caretaker put down a dish of food for him at mealtimes and had some blankets set down next to the bed. Which Jove had promptly pushed under the bed.
And that was how things went, until Jove's caretaker mused out loud, "I suppose if I'm to be caring for you, pup, you'll need a name." To which Jove replied with the name he thought he had been given the first day they met.
And then things abruptly changed. Starting with his caretaker falling out of his chair.
Things had been much busier since then, his caretaker had set aside time to read to him, and teach him words and letters. In his natural form he had done little more than nod or shake his head to show he understood or didn't, and his caretaker had begun talking about school more frequently as he became more certain Jove wasn't just parroting back words or repeating gestures unintelligently. And the more he talked about school, the more he speculated on whether the pup could even take on a human form.
But Jove had been up to the challenge. Almost fearing his caretaker's disappointment, he had asked for books on the topic, in a roundabout way of course, and practised until he was able to hold a human shape for a time. How he knew what a human shape was exactly was part of the magic, he was told. But it pleased the old man, because that act made him even more school-ready than the reading and occasional coerced speaking had.
It seemed so natural after so many months, but in the beginning he had struggled to get dressed and eat with cutlery, let alone hold a pencil for writing, and only through repetition and great patience on the part of his caretaker was he able to master those skills in such a short period of time. And once he had learned them, he was pushed to learn more. Walking upright was followed by walking upright in fancy shoes, and writing gave way to learning cursive, and reading became studying. He ran around the large property to get a better sense of his human body, safely enclosed in yards of wrought iron fence, and at night he slept in his own bedroom, albeit with a small fright-light to keep him company.
Only since coming to the academy did Jove realize the extent his caretaker had provided for him, in both time and financial resources, and he felt his little ghostly heart swell at the thought of going back home to show off all the things he had learned. And not just school subjects. He had a brother, and friends, and learned that a ghoul clinging to you didn't give you cooties right away. And he had developed some character as well.
While going through the field trip he made a conscious decision to protect the people who were close to him, and ignore the risks to himself that might have resulted from making this happen. And it was a lesson which continued to the academy in a more minor form. Letting Tomoko hang off his arm, or letting Junko fluff his ears, not because they were things he wanted, but they were things he could bear with to make them happy. Sure he was still afraid of things, and often shied away from people who were just looking out for him, but he was getting better.
In just this half semester, he had come so far... And now he was even ready to take exams with his friends. How many little ghostlings ever got that lucky? Maybe after exams he would be able to visit home, and go back to the large grounds and long hallways of the Manor. Maybe even take Ren with him.
Jove stopped scenting the air outside and closed the window, he had studying that needed to be done. And it wouldn't get done if he was too busy looking back! Maybe next year would be just as fulfilling. Who knew, he might even hope to grow a few inches.
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Posted: Wed Nov 16, 2011 8:44 pm
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First Step to Recovery
Some students might have seen the stranger on campus, a tall gentleman with stately streaks of grey in his hair. He dressed in somber, dated clothing, everything from his hat to his boots spoke of a mid-Victorian Era in the heart of London. After a brief stop in the office he headed straight to the ghost dorms.
His ward didn't open the door. In fact, the pup barely glanced over at the door as his caretaker came in and sat on the bed next to him.
"How about we take you home?"
Jove sighed as he was picked up, and tucked into the familiar embrace that accompanied his earliest, sane memories. He let his eyelids droop, but not close all the way, resting his head against his caretaker's arm. Home. Where pumpkin hydrangea clung to the brickwork alongside ivy, with lush gardens, a long, picturesque drive... And on the second floor a white-edged window that had belonged to his own bedroom.
This was the first time Jove had missed home, and all the simplicities it entailed. Learning to function as a student had seemed difficult at the time. But it had been an effort of gentling, an eagerness to please, and finally, pride. His accomplishments were bright and new, his caretaker's praise making his heart glow. How could he feel that same warmth and pride when he sat under such a heavy cloud of despair?
Jove was silent and solemn during the ride home, as still as a dead thing as he was carried into the grand hall. That wide staircase had once been a challenge for the little pup, but his caretaker carried him easily up to the study on the second floor. It was small by the other room's standards, but richly furnished, smelling of leather bound books and the wood polish that kept the dark desk and various decorations glowing and dust-free. And on the window ledge sat a familiar little dog bed, where Jove was carefully set down.
He used to enjoy sitting on that window ledge when his caretaker was working at the desk. It seemed the perfect location, the one person he cared about to his right where he could keep an eye on him, and the expansive gardens to the left, where he could watch birds and squirrels hop around. On the rainy days he would snuggle in under a blanket, soothed by the sounds of the droplets striking the tall glass panes. At least until the thunder started. Then he would relocate to under his master's desk.
It was a comfortable spot, and when he set his head down he could pretend just for a moment that things were the way they used to be. The gardens on the left, and his one and only person on the right.
Except things would never be how they used to be, now Jove had a bigger family, friends he cared for. And nothing scared him worse than the thought of them getting hurt. The memory of Ren and Gabrian's death still haunted him whenever he closed his eyes, and the medicinal scent of the emergency tents upon their return still filled his nose. It was like his mind was still stuck inside that day...
Jove said nothing as his caretaker went to work, sitting at his desk as usual. The sound of rustling papers and the soft scratch of pen on parchment was soothing and familiar, like revisiting a childhood memory. He had been taught to read sitting on that desk, and watched his caretaker's writing until he could trace out the alphabet with one paw. Those had been calm, comforting times, no longer running for his life in a blind panic, and for the first time in his life feeling the thrill of learning something new.
Curling up tighter, Jove made himself comfortable.
And so his first day home passed uneventfully, and when the evening came he was picked up and carried to dinner. But instead of being presented with a meal he wouldn't eat, a large, heavy-paged book was set down in front of him.
"I don't believe you have read this one," his caretaker said, taking his usual place at the table. "You may find it highly interesting and informative."
The little pup doubted it, but he read through dinner anyway. And at night when he was brought to his caretaker's bedroom and set down next to the bed, the book was set down beside him, and even nudged slightly under the bed, where Jove's old puppy blankets still lay. He read through the night, comforted by the sounds of the old man sleeping above him. This was a new experience, being allowed to sleep there for the first time since mastering his human form. He had never read in the vampire's bedroom, but maybe his caretaker didn't want him to be alone?
Morning came, and Jove was encouraged to continue his reading. A distraction, letting his mind break the circle of terrifying and debilitating thoughts that had become a regular visitor in his mind, a roommate even. And that day passed uneventfully, and the next, and slowly the pup was drawn out of his apathy. He still couldn't forget about the events that had recently passed, they still filled him with fear and a sense of worthlessness that was hard to shake off. Many times he reverted to the unseeing lump on the floor, lost in those troubling thoughts until a gentle touch brought him back to the real world.
A week and a half went by this way. A little care, a little coaxing, and removal from all those reminders of his failure left at Amityville gave Jove the chance to emerge from his depressed slump. He would follow his caretaker without being carried, and his little ears perked towards whatever book he was reading at the time when it was set down in front of him.
It was the morning ending the second week when the elderly man posed a question to the little pup over breakfast. "You are doing better, little one. I would feel less worried if you were to return to school."
He paused, and set down the paper he was reading on the table. On the cover, yet another article about the investigations of Amityville, wild suppositions on the school's motivations, and whether it was truly safe for students to be attending. Jove had seen the articles, but never read them. It brought back too many bad memories.
"My child. I would not be disappointed if you did not wish to return to school." The vampire fixed Jove with a thoughtful look. "There are other locations to enrol you for education, should you so desire. Please, think on it and let me know your decision." |
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 10:31 am
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Important Decisions
"Don't go far, little one," the old vampire said as Jove trotted out the door. The pup nodded.
His little feet made no noise as he ran down the walk, a brisk trot that left no time to admire the verdant gardens around him. The little pup had spent many hours in that garden, sniffing at every new plant, even tasting some, for the first time feeling safe enough to stop and look around. He knew every inch of that garden. From the perpetual autumn maples and oaks lining the fence, with the occasional pruned down laburnum with it's glowing gold blossoms, to the shy little bleeding heart, and the bladder cherries, foxglove, and weeping calla lilies lining the walk.
He meandered into the deeper part of the garden, under tall arbors of grapevine and climbing wisteria, his feet leading the way with no instruction from his head.
"My child. I would not be disappointed if you did not wish to return to school."
Jove's little mind was in too much of a turmoil to focus on where he wandered. His sole purpose for leaving the great mansion that day was to clear his head, figure out what he wanted and why. He had time to grieve, time to comfort himself, now he needed time to think. Did he want to go back to Amityville? Where they were sent on dangerous missions, unprepared and ill-equipped? Did he want to suffer more, watching friends die?
The little pup trotted faster, his only remedy for the images that sprang to mind, unbidden and unwelcomed. Ren being burned alive. Seiji falling into a great chasm. Again and again, he had even remembered the pain of his own temporary death. A death caused by his own teacher, in an attempt to save him. Could he return to a place where dying was the only answer?
Jove slipped through the fence on the outskirts of the garden, his fur catching briefly on the twigs and leaves from the decorative cedar hedge before the tips simply wisped into nothingness and set him free. The garden had it's beauty and peace, but so did the more untamed portions of his caretaker's property. Here the cedars grew tall and dark, twisting into bizarre shapes and linked together by thick roots and overgrown strands of grapevine. Farther in and the land itself would appear twisted and warped as the tree's life slowly writhed and explored under the soil, rivulets of water wearing deep, erratic chasms in the ground over the years. This land was ancient, and the pup could feel the immeasurable weight of that knowledge upon him. What better place to think, than in the heart of the forest, amidst the silent wisdom of centuries?
Jove found an old, toppled tree, so old it's species was almost indistinguishable, and curled up in the hollow stump, surrounded by the smell of earthy rot and fungus. It was a good place, and for a time he just let himself exist in the silence of the woods. If he was still enough, for long enough, maybe... Just maybe it would tell him where to go from here.
Time slipped by, and Jove was hardly aware of the weak sun slipping overhead until he was jolted from his thoughts by a noise. Only the tiniest little squeak, and some footfalls.
His ears perked, and he poked his head over the rim of the stump. Something was approaching, a skittering noise in the leaves... No, two things. One skittering, the other heavier, with greater padding paws. And then a burst of noise. They had taken flight, the sound of little feet in the leaves increasing in volume as it approached, and then he saw it!
A foxfire, a common variety tinged with reds and silvers. It was zooming with all it's speed across the uneven ground, leaping over fallen branches, ducking under low-hanging vines, with a giant shadow close on it's tail. It was like looking into the heart of a bottomless well, the darkness of this creature, canine in form as it loped easily behind it's prey. And it had no head. Instead of a face there was only inky black mist, peeling off it's form as it trailed the little foxfire.
Suddenly the beast seemed to have had enough of the games, and it's pursuit became deadly. With one bound it leapt at the little creature, and that was when Jove found himself making his own leap. In an instant he was in front of the black creature, snarling and radiating as much FEAR as possible. The change from his usual tiny form to the taller, more ghostly dog was automatic, his pale fur glowing faintly in the dim light as he faced down the attacker.
A thought deep down in the back of his mind suggested, "What can it do, it has no head?"
And then the creature screamed. It was not the sort you would expect from a regular canine, this headless creature screamed with a thousand voices, piercing the little pup's ears with the sounds of rage, sorrow, and deep hatred. This was a Yeth Hound, a faceless wolf of many voices. How one had found it's way onto the property was a mystery, but Jove refused to back down despite the fear he felt.
The hound made the first move, lunging forward with that inky black hollow of a neck, and Jove was surprised to feel teeth on the side of his face and ear. Teeth where they didn't exist, ripping through his ghostly flesh. He retorted in kind, darting forward and sinking his teeth into the creature's shaggy neck. The scent of rot and mildew filled his nose, and the mist seemed to fill his throat and choke off his non-existent breath. Staggering back he prepared to attack again, and was knocked flat by the beast's weighty shoulder.
The little pup scrambled off the ground, scattering dead leaves and digging his claws in for another leap, using his speed and teeth to tear open the flesh along the larger canine's foreleg. It shrieked like metal grating on glass. He felt sharp claws raking his back before he could whirl around, and then teeth dug deep into his back. The little pup felt a cool trail of blood dripping through his fur, down his left side.
Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to leap into the situation headfirst. It was like signing up for that field trip all over again. Instead of protecting his friends he became a liability, and failed to do anything useful. But could he really have just stood by and let the foxfire get eaten? It was his own brethren. His family, indirectly, like his friends back at school. He couldn't just sit back and not take the risk, because he was too afraid of failing.
Jove fought back, giving enough time for the foxfire to run. And when his left side was matted with red and he tasted blood in his mouth, he still fought back. He felt overmatched, out of his league. But the little pup still put every ounce of FEAR into his losing battle, snarling and puffing up, using his sharp teeth until the dark hound gave pause, and finally turned tail. It had not bargained on that much of a fight, not for a mere scrap of fluff and flesh. It departed with one last ear-piercing shriek, like a vulture driven from it's find.
The ghost's puffed up swagger was short-lived, but the pride he felt lasted right until he collapsed at the edge of the garden. He might have gotten messed up, but he made a difference. Just a little one.
A couple days later, the pup finished pulling on his boots and gingerly slipped on his coat. His suitcase, sat packed beside him. When his caretaker had found him in the garden, he had been out cold and bleeding. It had taken a FEAR infused drink and a spookie or two to even get him back on his feet, but the pup had regained his spunk, shrugging off the gentle hands and trying to limp away as though he were perfectly fine.
Jove couldn't lie around and recover, he had stuff to do! New boots to pack! He had to get back to school, and check on Ren, and all his friends, and go to classes, and get stronger. That's what mattered, not the failing and the hurt and the pain, but that he had been there, and done something. He couldn't stay at home and live out his unlife as a lapdog no more than he could have stayed hidden in that log.
And as he hobbled out the door to leave the mansion, and return to that terrible place with classes and field trips and the looming threat of not-reapers turning them into weapons, he knew he had made the right choice. |
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 10:37 am
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The story of a Scarf
Hello. You may not know me, although I have no doubt you have seen me. Once I was just a humble knitted garment, but now I travel all over Halloween. Let me tell you my story.
Once upon a time, I belonged to a young lady. The daughter of a Baron and Baroness, a great family of vampires. I was treated as a scarf should be treated by a child. I was worn often during the chillier Octobers, trading places with a fine pink scarf of longer wear and softer yarn. The pink was the child's favourite, but I was thicker, and warmer. I take no offence to the preference, the pink scarf was truly suited for the young child.
But I digress. One evening I was worn to a fine ball, hosted by a relative of some sort. I was hung up in the hall while the child ran off into the great mansion, and later, a butler had transferred me to a hanger and put me in the closet. It was a long night, and many times the door opened to admit more articles of clothing. At some point my hanger was jostled, and I fell to the ground amidst the old boots, hidden behind their tall figures. I remained there for the rest of the party, and then one by one the coats and jackets were removed from the closet as the great gala drew to a close. My owner's included.
After the excitement of the evening, my young owner had fallen asleep, and her parents were eager to whisk her back to the carriage, the fate of her blue scarf was not on their mind.
So I remained in the closet, resting amidst the old shoes. They were centuries old, finely fashioned and yet never worn. It was hard to tell how long I remained in there, and slowly I began to realize why those shoes rested in such quiet silence. There were no children here, no families. Not even an abundance of staff to fill the sprawling old mansion. The shoes and I could feel the weight of the soundless days and nights pressing upon us, only broken by the solitary footfalls of the occasional servant or master outside the closet.
And then one day, a crack of light appeared. It was blinding, the first light creeping into the closet in ages. But it was not the master of the great mansion, nor a servant who opened the door. It was the nosing of a little foxfire, which wiggled in through the crack hardly wide enough to admit all the fluff surrounding it. The creature was tiny, even for a foxfire, and it's glowing eyes scanned the darkness with fright. When those eyes found me, the little foxfire made it's way awkwardly through the maze of shoes and buried itself in my lengths.
It was the first touch I had known in ages. The little foxfire was impossibly soft, all that fur and it felt like nothing against me. I wondered why I would be chosen for a bed when the creature's own clothing was finer than spun silk, but it snuggled against me even in spite of my rough yarn.
It must have been an afternoon, judging by the light now seeping through the crack at the closet door, although compared to my time with the shoes it was a mere blink of the eye before the door was fully opened with a creak.
It was an old man. Had he been the one to greet my young owner all those years ago? I couldn't remember. But he scooped up the little foxfire carefully, tenderly. And to my shock, myself as well.
"My dear little thing. Did you come all this way to find a new bed?"
He was talking to the foxfire, which had hunkered down shyly in his arms, reluctant to leave my presence. I was touched, even though it was a simple creature.
The old man carried us into the wide hallway, and up the grand staircase to the second floor. Down the hall he entered a room which looked very much like a study. I had been left in one of those before, so I was familiar with the way the master of the household would sit at a desk very similar to the one the old man passed while he did his work. The foxfire and I were set on a small dog bed by the window. All in all, if I were to once again become a part of the house itself, this was a much better place to do it than in the dark closet.
Time passed, and my days and nights were filled with many moments, unlike my stay in the closet. The foxfire, who one day became known as Jove, would sleep on me, curl up under me, and even sometimes drag me around a bit before returning me to the bed by the window. I was not a fan of those little teeth, although the creature was very gentle with me. You never knew with fickle little beasts.
One day, instead of a little foxfire, a boy accompanied the old man into the study. The child had dark hair and dark ears, and a very fluffy tail. I was confused at first by the sudden change in my little Jove, but being a scarf, I took it all in stride. As a creature of two legs he was clumsy, unsteady, but soon he was as nimble on his feet as my last child.
Already I had been thinking of him as my owner, even though it was a month later I was finally draped around his shoulders, and we left the mansion.
That was how we arrived at Amityville, a school where my owner spent the next couple years attending classes. I attended them as well, the child never left his dorm room without me. We travelled around the campus, explored the forest, and met new friends. The boil even found a brother! It was quite an exciting time to be a scarf.
But it wasn't without it's trials. The school administration apparently had a fondness for making it's students suffer, and I was brought on several 'field trips' that led to heartache. Both for my owner, and my poor threads. Sea water does horrible things to the integrity of yarn, as does dirt and blood and grime, and burning and being used as a bandage. I often worried about how many washes I had left in me.
By the second year I began thinking my time was just about up. My colours had faded, and I was ratty and ragged around the edges. Jove had always been sent new clothing from his master to keep up a good appearance, and once even a new scarf had been included. But he hung it up in his closet, and wrapped myself around his neck time after time. Maybe he was the sort who couldn't give up, and I would be worn until I simply dissolved into FEAR and dissipated into the atmosphere. Not a bad fate, although pleasant retirement is good enough for most scarves.
I had not tired of seeing the sky though, not after my long time in that closet, and my little boil showed no indication of casting me aside. And something began happening that was so remarkable, and yet so subtle I hadn't realized anything was different. The places where I began wearing through were being patched with something. Whatever it was, it supported me, kept me whole even as my threads split and my edges frayed. I realized it was the same ghost essence that had been radiating out from my owner as he learned to manipulate his form. Perhaps it wasn't even a conscious effort... but it seemed like I was taking on a life of my own.
I'm stronger now than I've ever been, although more intertwined with my child than a scarf had any right to be. I'm sure he will take me on more adventures. Maybe one day I will disappear for good, but this life has been long and quite fulfilling. Perhaps if you come again next year, I will tell you some real tales. |
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 5:04 pm
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Fragments
Everything came from darkness at first.
Jove could feel wind on his face. The smell of dry grass, dirt... The breeze shifting and bringing with it the earthy scent of livestock and manure. Warm rock under his bare feet, sunlight so heavy it warmed the back of his neck and shoulders. A soft touch. Fingertips hesitantly brushing his bare arm, moving down and taking his hand.
Then there was light, a picturesque landscape surrounding him He was standing on a cliff. Jove couldn't remember if it was the darkness that vanished, or if he had opened his eyes. He looked down, the hand holding his was pale. Small, a perfect match for his own. The boy it belonged to... The child could have been his mirror image. Jove should have felt startled, perhaps he should have stepped back. But he didn't.
This figure of himself didn't alarm him, maybe it was the curious way dreams had of weaving everything together to make sense, but it felt like everything was okay. He could feel it, radiating from this other Jove standing next to him. The child who shared his face watched at him warmly, and yet almost longingly. 'This is me.' Jove could feel emotions, out of context as they settled in his chest. 'So bright.'
The child pulled him away from the cliff, and Jove followed willingly. A pair of twins walking home, to a small wood cabin. Jove could feel the sense of belonging, and the smell of smoke from the small chimney was warm and welcoming. He could remember the smell of flatbread, vegetable soup. Rabbit fried on the iron stove he could picture so clearly in his mind without having ever seen it. This was, had been, his home. Warm, friendly, the place his second self had lived. He looked back, saw the friendly faces of parents in his mind's eye, some miserable sheep, and a scared, unfamiliar boy, and a great tragedy.
They stood inside the house, having passed over the threshold without so much as a step. His other self was sad, there was heartache here, outweighing the fear that had once been present in the memories drifting through his head. Jove understood, he had died here. It had been terrible, but it hadn't hurt much. It was too fast for that. There was a sad question lingering over the house, and the little ghost knew what his mirror self was thinking. 'What happened to that frightened boy after my death? What happened to my parents?'
The darkness inside the house was warm, but it pressed in on him. It swallowed him, until he realized he was floating to the surface of a great lake. But he wasn't afraid, his double still held his hand, and breaking through the water's surface was painless. The ceiling above him was so high, and shrouded in mist... He wondered if there were any at all, and knew he shared the same thought as his mirror self as they floated in the lake's cool waters. Then they swam to shore.
Jove gaped at the city they had arrived in. 'Purgatory. Land of the dead.' He knew it before his self thought it, what else would such a kingdom be? All around him, winding up into the misty heavens, there were beautiful stone buildings and walkways. He was his own shadow as they walked through the city. There were gardens hidden in amidst the buildings, twisting, winding staircases wreathed in mist. Balconies and overhangs, fences and trees, and a great long river. 'The memories live there.'
And then there were people. Ghosts, walking without seeing the pair of children, talking to each other in voices muted like they had been wrapped in cotton. Jove knew they had all been as real as his twin self, going about their day to day business as they accepted their death and moved on. There were familiar faces. The kitsune Remi. Tomoko. Sparrow. He recognized them all on two levels as they passed by. Was his other self borrowing from his memories, or was he the one doing the borrowing? His other self felt so warmly for them. They were comrades.
Hand in hand they wandered through the spectral crowd, climbed one staircase after the other, until they came to an old garden in disarray. Wildflowers grew with abundance, and long grasses emerged from deep cracks in the ancient tiles that were slowly being dissolved by the passing of time. Boxes were piled everywhere with violet ribbons. 'Our gift.' An empty box, full of promise. A key. It was so very precious, it was the whole world.
What was, he wanted to ask, but he knew. The person who gave his mirror self that gift was their whole world. Or had been. Jove was pulled forward, his companion felt both eagerness and trepidation. 'There are still things to see.'
They passed another garden, filled with glittering crystal flowers. Their hue was a vibrant red. The colour of blood. Images floated through the ghost's mind, a hedge maze with long grass, a bog. His own blood, dark and sticky, mixing with boggy mud and drying on his bare legs. He felt empty. Weak. He carried more of those flowers in one arm, but when he looked over, his other self carried an arm full too. 'It's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore.' There were beasts all around them, all heading towards the same goal. It didn't hurt. It felt numb, was this how the beasts felt too?
They dropped the flowers into a chalice of shimmering water, and left both the flowers and beasts behind as they continued walking the winding streets of the kingdom.
The sadness was so palpable here in this place. He sensed his time was ending. There was a fight here. Jove clutched his twin's hand, and reached up to his chest. They were bleeding, but he felt nothing from the long wound that ran down his body. He could remember it, the first cut. The pain was nothing to him, more important was the desire to protect...
The ghost figures swirled around them, and the two Joves watched their own self fight like a dream within a dream, stabbing the giant in the arm, the blast that finally took them. And then the calm acceptance radiated from his mirrored self told him it was over. He had dissolved, carried under a gentle arm to Elysian, where there was no pain or suffering. 'It was beautiful.'
The smell of sweet grass, fresh air in this misty realm, it all turned to darkness. And yet there was warmth, like the sunlight that had felt so strong on his skin. Elysian was there, in that brief respite between death and nothingness, it's stories seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.
They were on a battlefield. Jove was not scared, they had someone they had to find and say their goodbyes to. It was a calm, bittersweet feeling that he felt from himself, and when he looked over, those pale eyes were fixed on a point in the distance. A tower. That was their end. He felt it in his heart, and when his mirror self met his eyes, he shared his pain. Jove squeezed his dream twin's hand.
Bolstered by the presence of one another, they climbed step after step, until all they could sense was each other's hand, held tight like a lifeline. 'The last sense is everything...' Jove knew, and couldn't bear to let go, to let that part of himself disappear into the darkness. So they curled up next to each other, huddled in the absence of all sight and sound, unable to say a word out loud. Their emotions swirled around the two of them, the fear, the sadness... but also the surety that these emotions meant they could still exist. There was relief in that. The simple fact that there had been memories to share.
When Jove opened his eyes, he was alone. The brightness stung his eyes. He squinted, making out figures in the hazy light. They moved through the clearing mists full of emotions. Joy and regret, relief and worry, acceptance. A small figure waved to him. It was himself. He was with Remi and another figure, the one he knew had been his mirror's world. The King. Thackery, a student Jove had hardly met, and yet someone his other self felt nothing but love and gratitude for. 'Please, love him too?' The ghost was confused, he saw everything and yet... Something was missing.
Jove blinked, and suddenly his twin was in front of him. They were alone. It really was like looking in a mirror, and when he lifted his hand, his other self did too. Their hands touched, fingers spread, palm to palm, and then the ghost understood. This little life was a part of him. The child who held his hand, showed him this life, it was a part of him. Jove could feel it in his very core. He could feel everything his twin felt, like every memory was being poured into him from where their palms touched. This part of him had been released from it's bonds, and had found him, shown him all of this.
The ghost pulled his duplicate into a hug, and felt his other self relax. Giving in. 'Yes... We won't be alone.' Never alone. 'You can keep these memories safe for me.' Always. 'Remember your heart is your gift.' Both our gifts.
'It really was a precious life...'
Jove rubbed his eyes, and stirred under the covers. A foxfire yipped and licked his face. All the sounds of a normal morning, but that dream had left the little ghost with an odd feeling in his chest. He had told himself quite the story while he slept...
He relaxed against the blankets. Maybe he would stay in bed just a little longer, just this once... He knew deep inside there was a part of him that was happy to exist like this. Just a little longer... |
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