by Fey Truet
I tried to grab the frame of the picture but it was too big and rectangular for my body.
I couldn’t grab it with my mouth or legs and still be able to walk. But I could put it on my back so that’s what I did, supporting it with my front paw and tails.
I was about to jump when I heard laughter from behind me.
I turned to look, dropping the picture, and saw a real life, older version of the woman from the picture. Her hands covered her happy face, as she huffed with the effort to keep still.
She no longer wore pants, but the strange faint red dress and the red sash that seemed to be the fashion here.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s very rude of me, but it is such a tickling surprise to see the extent of your manners. And your approach,” she said, coming up to me.
She regained her composure and crouched down next to me touching the picture I just had.
“It makes me wonder if asking for help is an approach us humans take for granted. But I suppose humility isn’t dead everywhere. Here,” she picked me up. “You wanted to see, right?” she said, setting me down on the mantle.
I felt heat creep up to my whiskers.
How long has she been observing me from my blind spot?
I watched her fix the picture in its rightful spot and rearrange the flowers.
She turned to me, “Well, go on. It’s okay.”
I turned and walked carefully along the mantle admiring the pictures.
One was of the same family in another town, much older and established than the very young Oeffing. Their dress much more formal, but the ladies still dressed closer to men.
Another picture was of the three children, a little older judging by Dory’s flying mane and front teeth, sitting on large, animated animals such as a bird with a scarf or a rabbit in a vest. They all looked excited and happy as children could be. The next picture was of the man and woman kissing in a frightful picture set high above a smoking empire. They sat on nothing but a steel bar held up by several wires, the woman’s hair now blond flying all around them.
The final picture was surrounded by a plain wreath of leaves, a custom I knew too well.
It decorated the two twins staring straight at me, smiling indifferently. They seemed to be resting in peace unlike my own mother and father who had no photos to frame their peace, but an immoral daughter to make them turn in their graves.
“Their names were Heaton and Heim. They were moral, but more often tricksters, God bless their souls. They were taken too young,” she said, justifiably failing to detach from her woe.
I turned to look at her and then back at the plain wreath.
It was strange to me that it wasn’t decorated. Maybe it was just their practice not to decorate it, but I was taught that the more love you felt for the deceased, the more decoration that should go into their wreath.
These boys seemed much loved.
I ran over and grabbed two flowers the woman had set down and carried them over to the twins and set them down. Realizing that I might’ve overstepped my bounds I jumped down, spotting an open window in the next room, and bounded up to it.
Before I could leap out, the woman came into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” she smiled sadly. “Doreen comes home from her classes at two past noon. You’re welcome back anytime, and she’d be more than thrilled to have you here.”
When I landed, I looked back at the house.
A dull yellow house with a slanted roof and a beautiful ornamental tree standing tall and blooming with gorgeous pink flowers.
If I needed to, I’d remember it.
Settled By Weight
“Look at how it stares with such iniquity,” I heard a woman tell her friends.
For the first time in my life, I had to worry fitfully what people thought.
When I was human, no one dared go further than mocking my appearance or ignoring me. The occasional brat would throw spoils my way. Now that I was this creature, people threw trash or whatever they had to spare, though I’d be lying if I thought I didn’t enjoy the food.
I jumped up to a balcony, away from casual diners.
Though I wasn’t hungry this body seemed to enjoy food. I remembered Wren warning me about being a starving creature. I wasn’t starving, though, I just liked to eat.
That hadn’t changed at all. It was weird. Or maybe it was just too early to tell.
Thinking about being a Remnant reminded me that I had a perilous job to do.
It got me wondering whether I should play hooky or dutifully fulfill my responsibilities.
I dodged a mop and snatched the awful man’s sticky bun he sat down on the balcony, spilling the sick smelling black swill he was drinking.
Oh, my! What a thrill!
I’ve never stolen anything before.
A woman squealed when I landed next to her and her group of buzzards. I wagged my tail and let out a vicious growl behind the bun. They all abandoned their posts without fail, and I gave an elated leap when the same mop came for me once more.
Nice try, but I don’t think so.
I buried myself in a crowd of people, the occasional person squealing at their feet.
My heart pounded with excitement. Now I knew why crooks always seemed to be in such high spirits. To be unfettered by the rules men followed, even for a moment, was blissful.
In my old life, I never would’ve considered stealing, lest I be hauled away in cuffs like so many of the other living poor. A moment of temptation wasn’t worth the risk of my family suffering. It wasn’t worth teaching my brother bad morals that would only tether him down to a sinful path. So I worked hard and kept my vices strictly where my brother was concerned.
I stopped to gobble up the sticky bun.
I turned to see where my next move would be and was struck by my reflection in the mirror. I ran around in this new body and had no idea what I looked like.
I was small.
A tiny, fierce wild-cat with big ears and a tiny brown nose, my whiskers thin and stretching proudly on each side.
I growled and showed my sharp vicious teeth.
Only I was also a meek little house cat as well.
I was small and nimble with long brown fur and pale socks for paws. My green eye and brown eye were the same as always, and my white streak of hair became a dash of white fur across my head. The vines that once crossed my human face was now a railroad of lighter fur going down my new body, reminding me that Wren told me it wasn’t completely gone.
I got a good look at the collar and saw that it was what made me look tame.
It was my tail that made me look demon. Though it wasn’t quite two tails, the split was awkward, and the green jewel set before the split was stunning. More beautiful than an emerald and more precious than a diamond.
It was magical.
Important, some instinct told me.
My very presence was proof that I was no longer human.
No. Longer. Human.
I looked around.
A beggar waved a cup for coins nearby with hollow eyes. A girl cried, the smell of blood clinging powerfully to her scraped knee. A woman hollered at her unfaithful husband.
All those busy-bodies working so hard; suffering.
I spotted a boy walking a fat, lazy, old dog who contentedly wagged his tail. And why shouldn’t he: he had no task awaiting him if he didn’t choose so himself.
He had no culpability, no blame, no responsibilities, or no contractual obligations. He was an animal. He owed no sense of duty to anything. Only humans did.
And I wasn’t human anymore.
I looked back at my new form in the mirror.
The revelation seemed to bring some form of release.
I’m not human anymore!
I walked away from the mirror, slowly trotting around. I climbed up a small barrow and sat up top it, studying my new home. I was free to do what I liked outside of the demons orders, and yet all he seemed to do thus far is react harshly to m
y being and banish me.
My first order of duty was to find out where I was.
The demon might not have known it when he exiled me, but what I needed more than anything was a fresh start. A clean slate. A new life. This plot was idyllically ideal, though the setting was merely tolerable.
“How much?” A woman asked, catching a glimpse of me from the shop across the street.
She had a basket full of grain, and two packages of fresh meat.
I could smell it.
The young man behind the counter sighed.
“They’re settled by weight,” he said, taking all her items and weighing them one by one.
The price came up to 24D.
I sighed, watching the woman pull out the money, giving it to the man.
24D. That sounds familiar.
24D. and a promise that I broke a little while ago.
I laid down a little sick to my stomach.
Maybe William never came.
I hoped he hadn’t and his kindness had been a cruel dare. It’d make it all the more worse if it were real.
He’d seemed to care about me.
A blustery man rushed by with more than two armfuls of his own effects. A flutter of his papers took to the air with his offhanded reaction. I leaped and landed on them with a yip, glad I was getting better at this. A girl in pink clapped.
Yippee! Huh? A newsread?
It was exactly what I needed.
I skimmed the cover, taking notice of the colored photo of a large and very proper family. The headline was written as, “The Sunbelt Family Together Once More!” Seeing as I couldn’t read words, I skipped all the stories and found the date.
I gasped in shock.
This can’t be right?!
If it were then it was a cruel joke.
The date on the paper read as d14--m2--y1251.
The day after my brother’s birthday. A whole year later from the day I left Oeffing.
I was shocked, to say the least, and didn’t move until a pink sleeved hand picked up the paper and walked away. I went back to the barrel and sat down.
How did a whole year go by in several days? It makes no sense.
Suddenly a hand ruffled my fur.
“Ooh, so soft. Here you are, Little Spirit,” a woman put a slither of raw meat in front of me and slapped her hands together in prayer. “I know he’s hopeless, but please bring good fortune to my son that he might get into Windfall Arts. Approvals begin a week from now. Thank you.”
I watched her walk away, unable to form a coherent thought.
Did she just barter with me?
I wasn’t a god. Nor was I a demon that granted wishes. She didn’t know that, but she still prayed to me as if that were my business.
The people here sure are strange.
I gobbled down the meat, raw as it was, and jumped down.
A scent I caught sent a tremor down my spine, upsetting my burn.
I stopped and looked all around and saw shadows everywhere. Then I found it again.
The scent of cold air and mildewing walls that moved too fast for me to pinpoint.
That and passersby obscured my view.
I couldn’t let it go, though.
I jumped back on the barrow causing it to rock a little and looked around. The smell abruptly resurfaced strongly behind me. I turned with a loud growl and hiss, knocking over the barrel.
I got up missing the creature and turned again, unmistakably spotting darker movement in the shadow of an alley.
I tried, but my soul-self wouldn’t let it go.
I followed my instinct and walked slowly towards the alley tense as can be. When I entered, I let out a low warning growl, letting whatever being known know that I was prepared if they should try something. I went deeper and deeper in until I was in darkness that didn’t seem possible this time of day.
The smell grew ever closer and I saw movement.
Then it zipped forward.
I darted along with it, but was snapped back like a rubber-band by my tail.
Along with the smell, the darkness retreated, as did the normal lighting of the alley returned.
I turned to see what caused the pressure on my tail.
I saw a rosy colored dog that didn’t smell like a dog. Sassafras wasn’t a typical dog smell.
I looked down at my tail and saw huge paws with sharp, brown claws.
I looked up again.
Its muzzle was stranger than a traditional dog’s but less so than the kuaves in the books. And his little wagging stump was annoying. Its blank gold eyes and lolling tongue irked me all while it stood on my tail.
Urgh! Dumb dog! Get off my tail!
The look in the dog’s eyes quickly changed as they narrowed at my insult, and the pressure on my tail increased painfully. The tongue dangling dumbly from its mouth pulled back in and the dog showed me a mouth full of dangerously sharp teeth in a doggy grin.
Who’re you calling dumb, Glutton? The dog sneered at me, and I flinched.
I didn’t realize I could understand animals? I thought before I asked. Wait?! You can talk?!
The dog poked his muzzle to my chest and growled. I’m a familiar, idiot, and a lot smarter than you, it’d seem! And you know that old proverb, the one where the dog eats the cat.
Another familiar?
I was shocked and fascinated.
Then worried.
I don’t. Say, your name wouldn’t be Ever by any chance?
Then I remembered my book and looked around his neck for a collar I didn’t see.
This could be bad. Wren warned me to stay away from Ever but I knew nothing about him, including whether he was a familiar or not.
He raised a brow in a very human gesture and sighed. He took a step off my tail and backed away. I saw his fur melt away in all but a few moments, then I was staring at an older boy with blond hair, not red, but his eyes remained a gold color. He had on a red jacket and loose pants, with black running shoes. On his wrist was his Book Of Life.
“Lucky for you, I’m Collin. Not Ever. If I were, I wouldn’t have even bothered saving you, just now. Even if you had survived, I wouldn’t have given you the chance to insult me. Ever has no patience for stupidity and you ooze it,” he explained.
Oh. Okay. Bye. I lifted my bruised tail and tried to run past him, but he just stepped on it again, getting a wretched screech from me.
Ow! What are you doing!
“Wow! When Berry told me that you attacked Cross, I couldn’t believe it when I spotted you earlier. I really couldn’t believe it after following you, though I believed her when she said you were very rude. But when I saw you chasing that gloom just now, I could believe that you were indeed stupid enough to take on something way out of your league.”
He scratched the back of his head and crossed his arms.
“You’re new, but I think you should know that when you need help, insulting your allies is a huge no-no,” he said.
I un-narrowed my eyes and blinked at him.
Oh. I’m sorry for calling you a dumb dog, but I actually thought that you were a dumb dog then and that was my honest opinion. If I would’ve known that you were a familiar I would’ve found a more suitable insult. I don’t remember asking for help, but I already know not to insult someone who helps me. Why would I? Now if you don’t mind, I think you’re breaking my tail, I told him politely.
With the way he responded you’d think I’d thrown cold water on him.
“Get off of your tail?” he asked, and I nodded.
He bent over and pulled my thick scruff, raising me to his face. “Do you have a death wish?”
I considered it, then shrugged, raising a hind leg to his hand because he was hurting my healing back.
I don’t know? But I figure whether I do or don’t I’ll die regardless. Or have I been told wrong about the fate of the Remnant? I asked him, but he only blinked at me. I don’t expect you to like me. I’ve been warned against small trifles, and to stay away from
you; therefore, I will not seek your help unless I need it. And in return, you do not have to be bothered with me unless, well, you have to. Can you put me down?
I was very uncomfortable.
He didn’t. He just stared at me. “No,” he said.
Huh? I asked.
“No!” he said more forcefully. “I just realized I don’t like you, which is upsetting because you didn’t expect me to and I’m the only one who expects to like or dislike anyone. And you know why I don’t like you. Well, I’ll tell you! It’s because I’ve spent the better half of a century listening to an absolute lunatic order me to do things I’d rather not, and have gotten very little for it,” he said, not sounding like he was finished but stopping anyway.
He raised the arm he had me by up and down over and over, and only stopped when I lifted my hind leg trying to escape, though I really didn’t want to listen to him. That earned a flick to my nose.
“Knock it off before you get a lot worse than that. I don’t like your brutal honesty. Only morons are brutally honest when they can avoid it, and I hate morons because they’re a threat to all of us who actually think. I don’t like you because you being here proves that nothing is certain in our lives and because you talk about death as if it’s a sure thing.
“But I especially don’t like you because you’re small and cute! I hate small and cute things. Especially cats! They’re the worse creatures ever with their indifferent attitudes and the way they operate, exploiting every living being in their wake! I really don’t like you, and it isn’t because you expect it,” he finished.
I think I got that from his ridiculously long monologue. At this point, I just wanted to be on my way.
So… ? I asked.
If he didn’t want anything else…
Ow! I yowled as he yanked my tail down.
“You know, we all have problems but there is something really wrong with you,” he told me, pulling my tail again.
Ow! Sorry! Ow! Why was he tormenting me? Stop you bully! OW! What did I do?
He growled. “So frustrating. Look. I hardly care that you’re our new Glutton, but I do care that I survive and I’ll only survive if we all work together. Any other way and we’re all toast. You’ll soon find out that Medina is a familiar’s worst nightmare. It’s where life and death converge, leaving it a breeding ground for all kinds of nasties. Warlocks and vizzards are always invading, trying to get in on the negative juices that flow here. If you’re not careful, you’ll die.”