A shadow suddenly blanketed itself over him, blocking out the limited amount of Christmas Eve sun that shined on him. Raising an eyebrow, Richard glanced to his left, somehow having caught up to him, a mannequin stood by his side. A moose model. It was dressed in furs with flaming black coals for eyes. Richard flinched back. But still the creature, nay, the apparition spoke. “You are a child,” It reached over to him, wrapping its arm around Richard's neck and drawing him close to its open chest cavity and the head-sized red thrumming heart at its core before the phantom melted away to reveal the best man. “But this time it may have done more good than harm. Those two have always been a wreck.”
The Tale of Titherspoon
Growl.
“It’s not my fault that your wife is a harlot!” Richard snapped, glaring black at the rectangular face that he admittedly had to crank his head up to properly see.
“Desmond stop!” Rosie, the lovely little lady he had the pleasure to sleep with earlier called out, with Richard glancing over to see the chubby face of the woman that was just as dark as the hide of the moose. The woman grabbed at the thick bronze-brown forearm that belonged to her spouse. The same spouse, Desmond, glowered at him with his shiny sky-blue eyes.
Splat! That was the last thing he saw before food was slammed into the side of his face, coating his eyes and hair in slop with the titanic force behind the strike enough to knock him down. Thud! “Why!? He wanted you to react! Are you so childish that you cannot see that!?”
“You’re one to talk!” Desmond roared, his tall form further puffing up as he turned to face his wife. “What were you doing fraternizing with him!? He is my enemy for Christ’s sake! You could have slept with anyone else and I would not care. Why him!?”
Richard snickered, even as he carefully combed his fingers through his hair to remove the gunk whilst biting back the urge to shovel the wasted food into his mouth, this had turned out better than he had hoped. I had intended to ruffle his feathers, not bring this whole disaster of a wedding down around him, this is fantastic! He thought, before slowly forcing himself to stand.
Growl.
With a hop in his step, he waltzed out of the center of the wedding venue, passing the well-dressed hordes of people who were now focusing more on the escalating screaming match of the soon-to-be annulled couple. As Richard reached the other side of the group murmuring and whispering huddles of warm bodies; a guest broke from the crowd to follow him from behind, but he did not pay him mind for now. He knew just who was tracking him. “There goes Mister Stalker now,” He mumbled, the smirk on his face growing even more.
Richard, instead, looked down at the empty roads of the hunting retreat site; ignoring the heavy footsteps sounding behind him and how the shuddering vibrations shook the ground.
Growl.
All the lifeless buildings that surrounded him, becoming steadily less frequent and less close to him as he got closer to the edge of the site, were made from red and brown brick. Some were designed like cabins with only two or three windows, some were designed like apartment buildings with dozens upon dozens of windows, and others took the design of shop fronts with large display windows showing their wares. But no matter the type of building all were scribbled on with the prismatic paintings of starry-eyed youths, a surprising amount of twenty that were brought over for this event as well as the more common hunting excursions done here.
A shadow suddenly blanketed itself over him, blocking out the limited amount of Christmas Eve sun that shined on him. Raising an eyebrow, Richard glanced to his left, somehow having caught up to him, a mannequin stood by his side. A moose model. It was dressed in furs with flaming black coals for eyes. Richard flinched back. But still the creature, nay, the apparition spoke. “You are a child,” It reached over to him, wrapping its arm around Richard's neck and drawing him close to its open chest cavity and the head-sized red thrumming heart at its core before the phantom melted away to reveal the best man. “But this time it may have done more good than harm. Those two have always been a wreck.”
Growl.
Richard shuttered, and with wide eyes, he took a minute to process what he had just seen. What was…? However, before the thought could formulate into an idea, a hard warm object pecked at his right shoulder. He turned his head to see a small spherical clay jar painted cocoa brown and salmon pink vertical spiral pattern. “Ohhh~! You remembered!” Richard sang, before taking the bottle from the offered hand and cupping it into his right hand. “Thanks, Vince!”
“Of course, I remembered, dear Dicky!” The taller man removed his arm and, by proxy, the fireplace-like chambre that had radiated from the appendage. “A bet is a bet, and you won, although I doubt either of us expected such an explosive response from Desmond. Usually, he is the more put-together and sensible one in this, what? A seven-year-long feud between you two?”
“Yes, he is,” Richard cooed, as he shook the strangely hefty bottle. “But this time he lost it, and all I had to do was flirt with Rosie, can you believe it?”
“Somehow, I can,” Vince replied, with a playful roll of his eyes. “But to get away from that topic, do you want to head over to my place and enjoy some hot chocolate to celebrate.”
Growl.
Richard hummed, his gaze leaving the bottle to take in Vince’s swan white skin and bluish-gray eyes, the movie theater red hair of the slightly older man half-shaven in the back with bouncy bangs covering his freckled forehead. I would like to sit for a drink…but… Richard sighed, shaking his head. “I cannot, I have to pack up my things. Christmas is tomorrow and I would like to spend the rest of my work vacation back home.”
“Are you sure?” Vince tilted his head, motioning over to his stomach. “You’ve had quite the appetite for the last two weeks, today especially, sounds like you need some grub.”
Richard stopped by a hunting site house, leaning against it. “I am fine, I had some food at the wedding before Desmond sniped my plate, so it should hold me over. Now shoo! I need to test out this ink and head home, I cannot do that if I am running my mouth with you.”
Vince chuckled and smiled. “All right, see you soon Dicky, and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too,” He murmured, his eyes taking a moment to blink, and when Richard opened his eyes, Vince was gone.
Growl.
Richard jolted back, his golden hazel eyes darted left and right across the foot-trodden path before him, darting left and right past lined-up houses and mountainous white and silver snowbanks in search of Vince. He was nowhere to be found. Certainly, I did not just imagine all that. Richard shivered, his eyes darting over the peach pink and orange mottled leather of the thin shorts he wore, and thundercloud gray and night black coonskin boots he wore, before circling back to the bottle in his hands. The skin of his appendage was just as pale as the feathers of a dove and marked with the healed scraps of stray bullets and knife cuts. No, I did not, to hell with this blasted hunger. Been making me see things lately. Now where was I…Oh right!
After a moment, the cold wind whistled in his ears, Richard crouched in front of the dark brown door of the dwelling, just like the rest of the buildings, and stared at the crude drawing a child had left upon the wooden door. A depiction of a deer standing on its hind legs, painted a shade of sun yellow stared back at him, Richard chuckled, his breath coming out in white wisps to greet the cold air. Shing! Richard smiled like the boy who had snagged the cookie jar and in an instant his nails scraped against the porcelain of the small jar and firmly grasped it. The small spherical clay container radiated warmth throughout his right hand as he tugged at the cork keeping the jar sealed until it came off with a POP and landed next to the now-opened bottle. Richard hummed, the one hand not holding the container dipping its fingers into the jar.
Growl.
The moment the digits making up his left hand made contact with the warm ink in the jar, thankfully kept at a temperature where it would not freeze thanks to his body heat, he pulled them out and began to touch up the drawing the child had left behind. Be fast! Be fast! Blasted ink dries quickly in the cold. On top of that, the last thing I need is Desmond miraculously showing up and scolding me for being “childish”. Bleh! Who made him the dictator of what is and is not childish? The children get to have fun, why can’t I? With a few more strokes, Richard finally halted the strokes his left hand was making, the ink on his fingertips losing its glint and drying moments later. He sighed, his eyes taking a second to admire the improved creation, the yellow deer was dotted with red spots and had eyes with antlers and a tail made of crimson fire.
Growl.
Richard snickered, he could already see the smoldering frown on Desmond’s face when he saw the drawing and the delighted shrieks of his daughter. Kids love it when their role models join in the festivities. With not another moment wasted, he sealed the cork snugly back on the jar and placed it in his boot, and after a few mental preparations, he stood. The bony POP of his joints protesting the stand just as much as his aching bones. Speaking of kids, boy do I miss being young. Simple life. Springy bones. I was a fool to wish for adulthood. Richard thought as he looked down at his leather shirt, checking for signs of red ink. There was none. The article had no blemishes, remaining as unmarred as his matching shorts. Good. Leather was hard to clean.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. Richard closed in on his temporary home and shopfront on the edge of town. The red and brown bricked building was by far the most colorful out of all the buildings. Unlike most adults who snapped at the kids or silently fumed when their places were painted, Richard encouraged it. He encouraged it so much that the kids took to painting his place when their parents started smashing their ink jars to keep them from painting. After all, being the avid hunter during the summers with a job in cooking and a part-time job in tailoring left him with lots of different dyes for children to get creative with, some were even non-toxic. Richard’s shopfront had pictures of lions, tigers, bears, creatures of legend and folklore, and mundane things such as suns or clouds, and there were even some cheery messages left by the children.
Growl.
The only place Richard had forbidden the painting off was the display window, as much as he loved the children and their talents, he did not want to distract too much from the one thing he loved to do and wished he could do more of it without being at financial risk.
Growl.
Richard spared a glance into the display window as his long-fingered and bronze multi-ringed right hand reached up around his neck to grab the grab-beaded necklace which was charmed with a single silver key. Through the clear glass, he could make out many of his wares which consisted of furred clothing such as jackets, boots, belts, and hats themed after the very animals used to make them. Even the wooden mannequins were designed for such events. Primarily made of wood with muscular torsos, the taxidermied legs and hooves of bison, and the lusciously long cropped tails of a horse; the only thing that separated the medicines were their heads which were decorated with the upper skulls of moose, deer, and reindeer. The three displayed mannequins were the main reason people came to his shop at all but not to buy any clothing he made, no, just to simply see the glorious abominations Richard had crafted.
Richard frowned, the key necklace feeling heavy in his hands as he bent down to unlock the door, the kids were great and the few friends he had made here were nice too.
Growl.
But his mission was done. He had finally gotten back at Desmond and thus he had no reason to stay, on top of that, he would undoubtedly not be invited to the hunting retreat site for the foreseeable future. This means you will not see Vince again, not in person, for a long time. Richard slummed, that would be unfortunate, but they could call or text one another. Besides, this had never been his favorite place to hunt, so it was no skin off his nose. If my mission had not been so important, I could have been here packing up the rest of my things. My boutique would have been closed because of the wedding anyway. But of course, the narcissist that is Desmond just had to make attendance mandatory when people have things such as lives. Oh well, at the very least, I can have everything packed by noon tomorrow and drive out of here.
GROWL.
His stomach rumbled; this time too loud for him to ignore as the internal organ painfully tightened. He gasped. The siren song of gravity pulled his limp form to his knees. Richard yelped the almost knife-like stab of ice and winter-frozen soil, sending floods of stinging pain through his knees. So much pain that his already weakened hand let go of the key, slipping from his hand, and colliding against his chest. What is happening? Why does everything hurt? The silver key now felt so heavy that making contact with his sternum knocked the wind out of him. SMASH! Richard wheezed, his emptied lungs struggling to take in air, and his eyes welling with hot tears that blurred his vision. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Footsteps, heavy and uneven, approached him but Richard found himself unable to move anything but his head.
He looked up and his beating heart sped up so fast that he thought it would jump from his chest. A warm feeling of hope blossomed in his chest. Someone is here, I can get– The hope died as soon as he blinked. With his eyes clear of the saline-based liquid that impaired his sight, Richard saw something that should have been impossible. Standing above him was one of his mannequins, the moose model, dressed to the nines in his best-designed clothes as it slowly reached out towards him with flaming black coals for eyes blazing away.
“Do not worry, Dicky, this only hurts for a second,” The living mannequins reassured.
댓글