Inktober 2018

[Ranger of the North]

Ahaha, well to be fair I had to learn it from my bird-nerd book, so XD

[Ranger of the North]

Prompt: hummingbirdxxxxxxxxxxxTheme: birdsxxxxxxxxxxxDay: 22xxxxxxxxxxxWords: 216

xxxxxA smile twitched Logue’s lips at the sound of Tico’s joyous squeak, and he raised a habitual finger for the bird as he worked. The tiny bird lit on his hand with an almost imperceptible weight, needle-thin toes curling comfortably around his smallest finger, and watched with intelligent eyes as the frame of a trap came to life beneath his hands.
xxxxx“This is for fish, little buddy, don’t worry,” Logue assured the unconcerned bird. “Can’t seem to find any pig or fowl in these parts, and the deer are too swift to shoot, so fish it is. I hope.”
xxxxxTico, unperturbed, shook his feathers out and half-closed his eyes, basking lazily in the afternoon sunlight. His body shimmered an iridescent blue-green, as though he wore the ocean itself as a skin, and Logue could have happily watched the light playing across his delicate, finely-sculpted feathers forever. But the rigid mountains of the West were no place for a small bird. One day — and one day soon — they would wake up to find the hummingbird gone.
xxxxxLogue drove the thought from the forefront of his mind with a shake of his head and settled back down to work; he would enjoy his little friend’s company — and be grateful for it — while it lasted.

[Ranger of the North]

Prompt: platonic lovexxxxxxxxxxxTheme: softxxxxxxxxxxxDay: 23xxxxxxxxxxxWords: 316

xxxxxLogue trooped stolidly through the grass, uphill and down, on the way to his best friend’s house. Today was her birthday, and tradition demanded an extra-special visit, so instead of running in as usual, he would knock — wait for an answer — and walk in, as though he’d never been excited in his life. They had to impersonate [stereotypically wealthy city]ers as well as they could for as long as they could without laughing. Every year they always seemed to lose at the exact same time, no matter how hard they each fought to win.
xxxxxNearing her home, he took a running leap up onto the porch — and caught himself. Carefully, he walked the last few steps and gently knocked on the wood frame.
xxxxx“Why hello, sir,” Rachel — Kay’s mother — cooed in an overly-exaggerated, horrifically out of place, fabricated accent as she opened the door. Logue’s lip twitched uncontrollably, but he dragged the laughter down and out of his way. He couldn’t lose before even seeing Kay; he was solemnity personified.
xxxxx“Good aftanoon. I’m here to see your daughter.”
xxxxxHer eyes danced with an added burst of merriment, but she bowed out of the way without a word, drawing the door wide.
xxxxxLogue sauntered through the entrance with his hands in his pockets, boots clumping solidly on the wood floor. His throat ached with something he refused to acknowledge was laughter, and there was a weird, fizzy, bubbly feeling in his heart and stomach. He wanted to shriek.
xxxxxRounding the corner into the the lounge, he met Kay’s gaze and froze. She pulled her twitched lips back in line.
xxxxx“Hap —” he almost choked on his own throat, and Kay’s face turned bright red. “Happy —” He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t continue; not while she was looking at him like that. They fell to the ground in spasms of laughter.

[Ranger of the North]

Prompt: mutating burn scarsxxxxxxxxxxxTheme: creep and horrorxxxxxxxxxxxDay: 24xxxxxxxxxxxWords: 274

xxxxxHe woke up with the beginnings of third-degree burns. He couldn’t see them, but he felt them. By early evening patches of red had oozed across his body.
xxxxxThe next day his burns had spread, the red grown more pronounced; his mouth had scabbed over and his eyes, usually aglow with enthusiasm, were dead in his skull. He couldn’t be touched and he could barely eat.
xxxxxStage three brought a hospital-trip. He was misdiagnosed. The burns faded slightly before gaining ground quicker than ever before, devouring his small body like wildfire.
xxxxxAnother visit to the hospital, another doctor, another misdiagnosis. His face was crusted and bleeding, his very skin wept. He looked like a dead thing, inside and out. He couldn’t eat, barely drank; the creams meant to help left him screaming and writhing on the floor. Painkillers were powerless to help, and sleep eluded him.
xxxxxHe needed the hospital, but the hospital thought otherwise.
xxxxxA dreadful week passed. He hurt to look at. One glance, and you wanted desperately to hug him, but knew if you even suggested it a tearful, frantic, panic would ensue. You used to be able to wrestle with him, toss him around, throw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes; now the burns kept you from even patting him.
xxxxxAt last he had an appointment with his own doctor, and this doctor weighed the evidence correctly. These antibiotics helped, and though the crusty, weeping, bleeding skin that had taken over his entire face fought with all its might, it too faded and healed. But it was a long time before he would consent to hugs again.

[TheSongOfTheStars]

Hummingbird: n'aww
Plantonic love: sweet
Burns: ugh ugh ugh ugh yuck, yucky

[Ranger of the North]

Mood mood mood, I share your sentiments exactly XD

[Ranger of the North]

Prompt: hand-me-downsxxxxxxxxxxxTheme: softxxxxxxxxxxxDay: 25xxxxxxxxxxxWords: 114

xxxxxNatalie looked at the tiny shirt. She didn’t stare. Didn’t examine. Didn’t even gaze. Just... looked, with empty eyes.
xxxxxShe had worn that shirt — it was the first outfit she’d ever had — and her daughter had worn it during Natalie’s first precious hours of motherhood. Years later her son had worn it, too, when motherhood wasn’t quite so new but still just as precious. Her own mother had made it; every thread was infused with love and memory.
xxxxxIt should be worn now.
xxxxxNatalie folded the little item and put it in storage. She wouldn’t get a third chance to use it; the chance she once took as a promise. Not anymore.

[Ranger of the North]

Prompt: “I’m not what you think I am.” & “You’re keeping me from my coffee, kid... This is a dangerous situation.” & lost
Theme: angst, shenanigans, & angstxxxxxxxxxxxDay: 26, 27, & 27xxxxxxxxxxxWords: 690

xxxxx“Are you a wobber?”
xxxxxStartled, she looked down at the small mite. “A what?”
xxxxx“A wobber. You look like one.” The child’s eyes were large, dark pools of curiosity.
xxxxx“A robber?”
xxxxxShe nodded, curls bouncing against her chubby cheeks.
xxxxx“No.” Micah kept walking, but a small hand tugged on her sleeve and she pulled away with a frustrated grunt. “You’re keeping me from my coffee, kid, this is a dangerous situation. Don’t touch me. What do you want?”
xxxxx“Since you’w not a wobber...” She ducked her head sheepishly, peering up through her dark curls. “Can — can you find Mummy?”
xxxxxMicah groaned from the depths of her soul, rolling her eyes skyward as if the clouds could offer a way out. “No.”
xxxxx“Please?” the mite begged, clasping her chubby fists. “I got disjacted in there.” It was a toy shop.
xxxxx“Can’t you ask someone else?” Micah pinched the bridge of her nose, glaring at the child as her head began to throb.
xxxxx“I was gunna, but you looked like a wobber.”
xxxxxThe longest silence reigned as Micah tried desperately to work out which side of the world was up. It didn’t help.
xxxxx“Fine,” she growled at last, “but — don’t touch me —” as the girl reached to take her hand. Unnerved, she broke into a hasty walk away from this fearless, frightening small creature, heart beating wildly in her chest.
xxxxxThis one couldn’t hurt her, though; this one she’d promised to help.
xxxxx“Where did you last see your mother?” she asked the pattering feet tightly after a minute or two.
xxxxx“At home.”
xxxxxMicah covered her mouth with her hands to swear. “Which is where?”
xxxxx“That way.” Back they way they’d come.
xxxxx“Thanks for telling me,” she said angrily. The little girl reached to hold her hand again, almost without thinking, but she yanked away with a hiss of annoyance and alarm. Why did she insist on trying to touch?
xxxxx“You can come with me,” she said shortly, forcing her voice to remain steady, “if you please... don’t touch me.”
xxxxx“Why? Are you a wobber?”
xxxxx“No.”
xxxxx“Then why not?”
xxxxx“I’m not what you think I am.”
xxxxx“So you are a wobber!”
xxxxx“No! I wish I were. Not really,” she forced a laugh, catching sight of the little girl’s face. “They’re, um... bad people.”
xxxxxThe child nodded seriously, walking uncomfortably close by. “That’s what Mummy says, too.”
xxxxx“What about your —” she hesitated, trying to think of the word — “dad?”
xxxxxThe mite nodded happily, skipping down the footpath in a way that made Micah dizzy.
xxxxx“Why couldn’t you just have walked home on your own? You seem to know the way,” she observed dourly.
xxxxx“‘M not supposed to go outside without adult soup-vision.”
xxxxx“And I’m a suitable adult?”
xxxxx“I dunno; you’re not a wobber, are you?”
xxxxx“...no...” In all honesty, she wasn’t 100% sure anymore. “Wait — what were you doing out here without adult ‘soup-vision’ in the first place?” she demanded.
xxxxx“I told you! I got disjacted.” The kid sounded aggrieved, and Micah gave up. They walked the rest of the way in one-halved silence.
xxxxxMicah’s head was pounding like a snare-drum by the time they reached the little girl’s home, and the world whirled precariously; she felt like the centre of a spinning-top. She stumbled into a fence and slumped against it, struggling to breathe.
xxxxx“Thank yoou!” the girl sang, and short arms wrapped in a grateful hug around her waist. Micah couldn’t move.
xxxxxShe couldn’t breathe.
xxxxxThe world ground to a stop for one awful, crunching moment.
xxxxxAnd then she was tearing herself away, stumbling free of the clinging arms and slipping wildly on the gravel drive in an effort to get away, get away, geT aWAy! Stones sprang from her feet like planets knocked out of orbit, crashing against one another with the roar of a tidal wave in her ears.
xxxxxShe ran down the driveway, coat flooding out behind her, every nerve burning and frayed by remembrance of the contact.
xxxxxIt wasn’t ‘til she reached her usual coffee-shop haunt that she stopped running, a faint cry of thanks still ringing like alarm-bells in her ears.

[TheSongOfTheStars]

That one was really cute with the kid, but freaky too. What's she running away from?

[Ranger of the North]

maybe one day you'll know