#cat days? fine. wonderful even! dog days? *covered in blood and mud and more*

[toadsrbutch]

me when my manual labor job leaves me tired and sore after work

[skelemira]

you know ya boi needs his dose of Horror Husbando— so. Rainy Day Horrortale sans HCs?

ilu you wonderful person you <33

BruUUUUUUH I like the way your brain works man.

And frikkin *sniff* Ily too Ben you magnificent person who lights up my day you <333333

Aight Horror Husbando Rainy Day Hcs!!!!

*He makes both of you warm beverages, whether that be tea or coffee or hot chocolate, whatever you drink that's hot, not matter if it's obscure or something from your childhood that you mentioned to him once; he wrote that crap down and had Paps look up how to make it and he made it just for you. (He also does that with any food or consumable item you mention liking even once, he knows he won't remember it but he writes it down. He even notices when you look *slightly* longer at a certain snack at the grocery store and suddenly the house is stocked with it.)

*He's fine just sitting on the porch or by a window listening to the rain either while you do separate activities or an activity together. He loves it when you read to him, so if you're a big reader, he will absolutely sit at your feet with his head in your lap to pet (mind the injury, but he trusts you to be careful) while you read absolutely anything to him.

*He doesn't really like to go outside while it's raining (water goes in his skull, you could easily slip in the mud, lightning could strike you, too many things could go wrong. It's safe inside), but he still likes listening to it. Not thunderstorms though.

*Continuing that thought, during thunderstorms, he is like a puppy. And you are now his teddy bear, no ifs, ands, or buts. You are his teddy bear and he is gonna (carefully) squeeze you to bits every time thunder sounds. You've found it does help when you sing to him, even if your voice is raspy or cracks a lot or if you're tone deaf as all heck. Just having something he loves to focus on helps, and if you really hate singing, reading to him works too.

(I am now realizing you didn't specify Horror x Reader hcs so uhhhhh have a bonus then??? XDD but I'll include some just Horror hcs below this to cover my bases)

*He doesn't like the feeling of mud. It's a bit more solid than blood but.... If he's not actively paying attention it can cause some nasty flashbacks.

*As I mentioned before, he doesn't like thunder. Makes him think of cave-ins, plus just. Big Loud Scary Noise coming from nowhere is a good enough reason to be scared lol. But when he doesn't have another person there to cuddle with or distract him, he'll play some music, any kind of music but nothing too crazy. He'll also do something sensory like petting a cat or dog or something.

*Rain almost always makes him sleepy. If someone is reading to him or he's doing an activity while listening to the rain, more often than not he's out in like. Less than 5 minutes. Sometimes he can wait longer if he really wants to pay attention to whoever is reading or his activity is really interesting, but he's learned not to deal with anything breakable while it rains bc he just goes to sleep anywhere.

*He will absolutely cocoon himself in blankets during a rainy day. He will sit himself by that window (or if Paps/his partner finds him asleep somewhere, they will bring him to the window bc they know he would be so happy to possibly wake up to the sight of rain) and he will just stay there until the rain ends, and then he'll open up the window/door and smell the petrichor. Petrichor my beloved <3

Thank you so much pumpkin for sending in a request!!!! For everyone else reading this, requests are still open but it may take me a bit to answer them! Still feel free to send in requests for drabbles/oneshots or headcanons!!!

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 10

A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger

than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the

man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a

Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't

know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking

his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,

watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him

realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of ​​being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly

which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray

potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."

[theoddcatlady]

Rainy Day

I was seriously going to start a revolution against the weather if we had another day of storms. First day, it was fine, I got a lot of housework done. Second day, it was still pretty cool, I finished up that article and sent it off to the magazine. Third day it was starting to get old, but we had some good thunder that shook the windows. That was cool.

Fourth day though. That’s what’s breaking me.

I groaned as I leaned back on my chair, trying to glean some inspiration from the ceiling. Like always, it had none. I looked out on the street, watching the water rush down the sides of the road, flooding the sidewalks and my front lawn. It was going to be a bitch to mow that later.

Still confirmed my fears- going outside was not going to happen, unless I started bleeding from my eyeballs and needed to go to the hospital.

I closed the nearly empty word document and started scrolling through Facebook. After reading maybe three or four clickbait articles, I got the ping of a message. Thank god it wasn’t my mother. Just my sister Carolina.

Heya! How you holding up?

I glared daggers at the rain outside before I responded.

About to die of cabin fever. Some storm last night, right?

Oh god yeah. Lucille didn’t sleep a wink. And when I did finally get her to sleep, she woke up an hour later SCREAMING. She says she saw someone falling from the roof. Last time I tell her that story about the thunder being god and the angels bowling :P

I chuckled. That old one. Kept me from sobbing whenever it stormed. My sister was relieving my boredom already.

Poor kid. Give her hugs from Auntie Emma <3

I will once she gets up from her nap.

Just the thought of my niece made my day brighter. Even looking outside wasn’t as bad anymore… still bad though. It was still pouring buckets.

Hold on a second. Was someone out there?

I got up from my computer and walked to the window, thinking it was maybe someone taking their garbage to the road or taking their dog for a walk.

It was a woman. Naked. Covered in mud. With a thousand yard stare that focused on nothing.

Jesus Christ.

I ran out the door so fast I didn’t even have time to close it. No time to worry about Mittens and Muddy getting out now. The rain was like ice down the back of my shirt, but I ran down to the street and to the woman’s side.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I took hold of her arm. She didn’t look at me, but she did stop walking. “Are you okay? Holy shit...” She was freezing cold, I don’t know how she wasn’t shivering. “What’s your name?” It was like talking to a mannequin. A blonde mannequin.

Shit. What to do, what to do… first things first. Get her inside. Get her dressed. Try to call 911.

“Hey, uh, miss?” I stepped back, gently pulling her along. “How about we go inside, huh? Get you warmed up, I can make you something to eat?” It would have to be eggs. I can only cook eggs.

She still didn’t look at me, but she didn’t resist as I took her into the house. The thunder boomed and the lights flickered as we stepped inside, but I was focused on getting her to the couch to sit down. I normally wouldn’t let anyone’s naked ass on my couch, but there was an exception to every situation.

I ran into the bathroom and grabbed the biggest towels I could, the fluffy ones. Think, what else, what else… socks. Socks and underwear. I think I had an ununsed pack somewhere in my dresser. Towels first though. Towels first.

The woman hadn’t budged an inch, but the cats were curled up around her ankles, purring and nudging her calves. Lucky her. “They normally don’t like strangers,” I said as I rested the first towel around her shoulders. “That’s better. Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

Finally, the woman turned to look at me. Her sea green eyes finally seemed to focus on something, and that something was me.

She smiled.

“I’m… okay now. Thank you. This is nice.” She pulled the towel tighter around herself and took a deep breath. “Lavender. I love lavender. Smells like my father’s garden.”

Her voice had a cultured tone to it, like someone from the courts of England. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was responding to me. She remembered something about her home. That was a good start.

“Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and into some actual clothes. I’m Emma.”

“… Abigail… my name is Abigail.”

I refused to leave Abigail alone in my bathroom, I still had some high dose pain medications stashed someplace from my back surgery and I didn’t know if she was a druggie. Although when she got cleaned off I began to doubt that, she was practically glowing when she wasn’t covered in mud. No marks on her arms, her skin was flawless, and although she was a little thin she was by no means starving to death. When she turned around to get the shampoo bottle though I found something I hoped I wouldn’t.

Someone or something had skinned the flesh from between her shoulder blades, leaving it raw and scabbed over. I blurted out, “Jesus, your back!”

Abigail flinched at my voice before looking best she could at her injuries. “… Right.” Her shoulders sagged as tears started to form. “I promise, it isn’t as bad as it looks. Don’t be scared, Emma.”

Whatever this girl had been through kicked my protection instincts into high gear. I nearly stepped into the shower to give her a hug, but I doubted it would be welcomed. Plus. Naked hugs are a wee bit awkward for everyone involved.

I gave her one of my old paint shirts and sweatpants, and like I thought I did have some unused socks and underwear- you’ll never know when you’ll need things like that. I guided her back to the couch. The storm had gotten even worse, thundering and shaking the windows.

“Abigail, I need you to tell me what happened.” I rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t give me specifics, I just want to help.”

Abigail turned to me, and her smile this time was almost pitying. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do for me, Emma.” She sighed and sat back up, running her hands down her face before she nodded. “I’ll tell you though.”

If I could get her to open up to me, I could get her to open up to a real someone who can help. I nodded and moved closer. “Take your time,” I urged, hoping my little experience from crime television when it came to dealing with trauma victims would help.

Abigail took another deep breath.

“… I am no longer welcome home.”

My heart nearly broke. Abigail looked no older than eighteen and already she was homeless. She didn’t give me a chance to offer any form of comfort though.

“Home was all I knew. Home was safe though. I had many brothers and sisters, my father loved me.” Her voice cracked. “I had a place, a position. I sung in choir. I loved my father. I loved my brothers and sisters.” She went quiet for a bit. “… I questioned too often though. Father doesn’t like questions.”

More thunder, lightning turned the sky pure white for a brief second.

“Why. Why couldn’t we leave. Why couldn’t we wonder what would happen if we stepped outside the line.” Abigail tiptoed her fingers across her thigh. “It was so many ‘why’s’. At first, I kept them in my head, then they spilled out between friends, and then I asked him. He told me never to ask why again. And I… I got angry.”

Abigail balled her fists and her expression turned cold.

“I didn’t want to listen to my father anymore. I wanted to go my own way! I just wanted to… to try something new… and he told me if I walked out that gate, I would lose everything that made me beautiful.”

“But you are beautiful!” Again, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Not when I left my father’s side. I might appear beautiful to you… but you cannot see what has changed, if you have not seen what I was before.”

What she was before?

Lighting flashed white in front of the window for five entire seconds, making the house as light as day. The next bang of thunder knocked the lights out, and the front window that had been shaking all this time exploded.

Slivers of glass went everywhere, embedding in my face and arms. I screamed and threw myself in front of Abigail to shield her from the glass. When I lifted my head though, I no longer saw Abigail.

I saw a shadowy, rotting skeleton. No glory light, no soulful eyes. Instead there was empty sockets, blindly staring forward. Flesh clung to her bones, reeking of rot and wriggling with maggots. One of them landed on my lips and wriggled into my mouth. And her back! Her back had splintered, bleeding bones sticking out, like snapped sticks ready to be thrown into a fire. Her skull turned towards me, her teeth chattering. I could hear laughter echoing in my brain.

“Can you see what’s changed?”

When I came to, I was lying on the floor. The power was back on, although the lightbulbs had burst along with the window. My mouth was filled with blood, and when I sat up, I spat out the tip of my tongue onto the floor. Muddy was staring lifelessly at the ceiling, his mouth covered in a white foam as his belly bloated out. Mittens was nowhere to be seen.

Abigail stood at the doorway, looking at the sky. The storm had stopped. She turned back at me, her face back to the beauty it was before.

“Goodbye, Emma. For this, I offer one piece of advice- maybe sometimes, asking why is more trouble that it’s worth.”

And she walked outside. I got up and watched her go down the street, turning right onto Honeydew Lane. And like the storm, she was gone.

“Mew?”

I collapsed to my knees as Mittens rubbed up against me, purring loudly. She dropped something onto my lap, and I burst into tears

It was a maggot. Still squirming. With a white downy feather stuck to its swollen body.

[augment-techs]

happy for any reason

(”What’s the point of learning anything, if you’re going to be with different people each time?” “You’re NOT going to be with different people.” --Dead Again) Three months is about as long as Ciel could bare to keep Sebastian with him in their joint solitude, their contract becoming a heavy chain around both their necks as the smaller realized the actuality of his situation through and through, and the taller-older-stronger-better of them slowly starved and, perhaps on his bad days, contemplated revenge. He has them travel to the French countryside, vast and full of fields turning yellow with the season of fall and the trees as far as the eyes could see a great black and green collection of giants that could have housed the same families of birds for a thousand years. Their carriage was left at a small village and put up for sale, with the two fine thoroughbreds fetching as good a price as they were likely to get from peasants that could barely afford to buy nails when the fences keeping their livestock penned needed mending. Ciel also bought a glass pendant that was meant to carry precious stones and gold scoured from the nearby river. With the shade of the trees covering them and nightfall but mere hours away, Ciel stated as kindly as he could with a voice that still felt cold and pointless to himself in the weeks that had fallen behind them, “I can’t give you what I owe you Sebastian; I’m sorry for that. The best I can do is give you what I can.” The other didn’t even get the chance to question Ciel’s words, Sebastian standing stock still as his master turned away from him, removed his eye-patch and then, wonder of wonders, removed the eye holding their contract in place. There wasn’t much blood coating his fingers, not enough to leave but a few smudges on the little pendant he’d brought along, tucking the eye into the confines and corking it shut to hand over to Sebastian. Like he was handing over severance to a loyal employee who deserved to remain in service but simply couldn’t be kept, because there was nothing left for him to do; and he was too good for it, anyway. Ciel remained with one eye looking down at the mud they didn’t have any real choice but to stand in, the other eye shut tight to prevent the small amount of blood from secreting down his face; he preferred it to clot tacky and keep his lids closed. He didn’t see, so much as feel, Sebastian take his offering, possibly tuck it into his fine, pressed black coat pocket... and then vanish. Ciel wouldn’t see him again for over a hundred years, would have to make his way into the world with seclusion and loneliness draped over him like he felt he deserved. He waited a good ten minutes, foolishly thinking, just maybe, that Sebastian might change his mind. Maybe he’d hate the thought of going back to being bored again. Maybe he’d...felt something after all the years in Ciel’s service. After the ten minutes were over, Ciel walked into the woods and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. ---- He didn’t go seeking prey, which in and of itself was like announcing to all demonkind that he was weak; like telling the Reapers that he was less trouble than a stray alley cat; like telling himself that he would keep his humanity any way he could. He found, with his hunger, came a curiosity in what he could eat barring human souls and thought to himself, ‘There are other living things. There are animals of lesser thought than cats and crows and dogs. There are trees and flowers. Anything is worth a try, isn’t it?’ The instinct in taking a soul came more readily than he ever dreamed it could when he found himself near the very heart of that forest he’d left Sebastian at the edge of, standing before a tree that was, perhaps, the size of his old townhouse and over three centuries old. He brought himself within a hair’s breadth of the bark, hand flat against it, and breathed in what must have been the life force that demons, Reapers and angels called a soul. It probably didn’t taste anything like a human would, and it gave him a comfort that he probably never would have felt otherwise. It reminded him of when he was, maybe, no more than five years old and there had been a three day blizzard that ended up coating everything on the manor grounds. He’d taken a handful of the snow that was perched on the head of one of the marble statues decorating the fountain and stuffed it inside his mouth. Fresh, clean snow was what older trees tasted like, Ciel would later learn as he continued onward away and away from England and from memories and emotions that made him ball his fists and curse Alois Trancy and every damn one of the wretched demons that were a part of leaving him like this. Ciel didn’t really notice when his shoes had fallen entirely off of his person, but when he entered into Germany, he noticed the pine needles of the forest tickling his toes and that his clothes were basically in shambles. It had been over a year since Sebastian was free and Ciel had found he liked the taste of trees older than a hundred or younger than fifty years. Eating the souls of shrubs or flowers or insects was a level of pointless that he could do without, despite getting some sick satisfaction in ending the lives of spiders. He could eat the souls of cows, chickens, pigs, sheep, horses, grouse, pheasants; deer if he could gather enough energy to run after them. Weasels were less than satisfying; rabbits tasted too much like fear to be enjoyed at any capacity. The one time he attempted to eat a goose, he spent the next three hours retching at the edge of a river and swore he’d never try again, nor with any other water fowl. Fish weren’t bad, but a little bland. (to be continued...?) ((I’m actually debating whether or not to expand on this concept. I really, really want to, but I feel like they’ll end up more OOC than I would like. I have drafts on AO3 and fanficdotnet that are a little longer, but... We’ll see.))

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #45: Garden.

Written: 2/18/2017

After several days of rain, it was finally bright and sunny outside, which meant it would be a perfect day for gardening, a task she was helpless without. During the days of rain and gloom, she would sit by her window, watching water pour down onto her poor flowers, wanting to be outside with them. Several times she had called up her children, telling them, “I wish I was outside right now. Oh, how I want to be outside, I love gardening very much.” Or, “Without you kids around, its so lonely. Oh, please do come by to visit. I can’t handle being alone like this, without anything to do.” The responses she got were either, “I’m busy right now. I’m doing laundry and I can’t focus at all with you talking to me”, or “Fuck you. With all of the shit you put me through, the way you treated me, you think I’d want to spend time with you? Stop calling me”.

After those calls would end, she’d spend a couple hours waiting, and would dial her offspring again, and they would give similar responses, and would do so again when she inevitably called again. Sometimes she tried to cry, but it felt pointless with nobody to see her do it, and she’d mostly forgotten how. It was just easier to sit and pity, and then try to get pity or company from her children. If they visited her, she would probably cry then.

Now that she was finally outside, it seemed like the whole world belonged to her. Sure, her flowers may have been a little damaged by the rain, some may have been drooping to the ground, slightly torn out of the ground by the high winds, had their petals all over the ground, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix. The only obstacle she seemed to face was the mud, which seemed to be everywhere, but thats what boots and overalls were for. It wasn’t until she started assessing her petunias, which were a little ravaged, but seemed fine, that she realized an intrusion in her garden. And when the first intruder was found, it was easier to spot many more, and what, at first, seemed like a simple annoyance had turned into a large scale problem: Worms. Worms everywhere. And with worms there would probably be snails, too, because they were also attracted to the rain. Worms and snails would bring birds, which would cover her beautiful garden and home in their droppings, but would also attract local cats, who would bring dogs that would hunt the cats, tear up flowers for sport, and bring disease, plus they would attract worse animals, but what hunted dogs? Large birds? Mountain lions? Troubled teens with pill addictions, who refused to have any sense of common decency? And what would those beasts attract? Poachers, bears, drug dealers, prostitutes, wolves, tigers, panthers, even bigger birds?

And what would happen to her if all of these things had invaded her yard, made it their home? Would they invade her house and eat her, or would she simply be held captive? Whatever would happen, she couldn’t let it get that bad, there was just too much at risk. So, the worms had to go.

When she came to the conclusion that she would have to dispose of the worms that had congregated in her yard, she reached the problem of figuring out how to get the task done. She was no expert in killing anything, even if she may have been prone to fits of rage every now and again. Exterminators couldn’t be called because they were strangers, and who knows what they would do when they came into her house? What if their solution was to bring birds into the mix, thus speeding up the horrible chain of events? What if they sprayed an awful poison that would kill her beautiful garden? What if they got rid of the worms, but then demanded to high of a payment, like her heart medication or her dignity? What if they were an alcoholic, and were too drunk to even reach the garden, and instead overdosed in her living room, which would probably attract more bugs, or even would bring in predatory animals.

Sure, she knew she worried a little bit, but it was just her being smart, which kept her and her kids alive for so many years.

Being smart enough to admit when she was clueless, she decided to go to outside sources for help. Who could she trust? Her first instinct was to call up Anthony, her very intelligent son, a substitute teacher in fact, but when he answered the phone, all he told her was, “Look, if you keep calling me I’m going to have to block your number. I don’t even know how you found this number, I told you months ago that I didn’t want you in my life anymore, and I don’t care about whatever problems you’re going through, because the scars you’ve given me are worse than whatever made you call me in the first place.” After that, before she could even get a word in, he hung up the phone. What had gotten into him, why was he being so ungrateful to his mother? Didn’t she give him everything in the world? Did he even know everything she gave up for him? Since he was probably just upset about something silly, maybe girl problems, she decided to call him back in a couple hours when he would have cooled down.

Next, she decided to call up her darling angel, whose name eluded her at the moment. Four rings, and then somebody picked up on the other end, but she didn’t waste any time to let them speak first, she had to get across how serious the situation was, “Dear, I need your help. I have worms.”

“What? Like in your intestines? Your stomach? Did a doctor tell you this, or are you making stuff up for attention again?”

“No, in my garden. There’s worms all over my garden.”

A sigh was heard. “Mom, I don’t have time for this, I’m at work right now.”

“What if they bring in-”

“I have to go.”

Click.

A horrible situation was made even worse since her own children, her own blood, had refused to even lend her a hand. After everything she had done for them, after being such a wonderful mother, so wonderful that the other mothers, those awful, jealous women, had to fabricate stories of abuse and neglect, which sent CPS to her house even though she did nothing wrong, the other women were just jealous, and that’s how her darling children treat her now? It was clear that she was in this alone, and she couldn’t waste time being upset where nobody could see how upset she was. She had to clear out those worms before they brought in bigger problems.

Wandering back outside, she decided that the best plan was to see where all of the worms were, the areas of higher concentration, just so she knew where she should start clearing them out. An actual plan would come to her later, she was smart enough to figure something out, and then her kids would probably be very impressed with her after she was done. Then they would feel bad about missing her calls, then they would come by to visit. Standing in her garden, smiling and staring off into the distance, she was so focused on this fantasy that she completely forgot about the worm problem.

She liked to picture her children sitting at the kitchen table as she told them the story of how she saved her home, and the looks of awe and amazement on their faces. After they would shower her with compliments, and maybe gifts, yes gifts actually, and expensive ones too, she would tell them that she’s why they’re so successful, because her genes are so great. And they would tell her that they would call all the time now, so much that she would never even have to dial a number. And they would offer to come over every night and cook her dinner, and maybe would move back in with her to keep her company. They would leave their horrid little families behind to live with her, because until this moment they never realized how their families were actually filling their heads with lies, poisoning them against their own sweet, loving mother.

That fantasy would’ve held her attention for quite some time if she didn’t hear, through a megaphone by the neighbor’s house, “Come out here with your hands up, the house is surrounded. There’s nowhere for you to hide, make this easy for yourself.” Her neighbors were always getting into all sorts of problems, and now that she thought of it, they might have been the ones that put the worms in her yard in the first place. With the amount of persecution she was feeling, now that there was the possibility that it wasn’t nature threatening her, but somebody who was jealous of her beautiful garden, she found the motivation to solve the problem.

When her husband was still alive, he would always tell her these colorful stories about the time he served in the war. He was such a manly man, it was like he was some action movie star that had come to save her from all of the people who were conspiring against her. One of her favorite stories that he would tell was about the time he was trying to find one of the enemy’s camps, in the jungle, and even though they knew the rough area, they weren’t aware of the exact location, and there were too many traps in there to warrant safe travel. So, they decided to drop a bunch of napalm in there, burn the place down, and take care of them that way. This lead to a problem, because she didn’t have any napalm. She wasn’t even sure if she had a lighter.

“We know you’re in there.”

Considering her options, she realized that she did have a stove, and even if she couldn’t use the fire from that stove she could use the heat, by boiling water. Maybe she should’ve been a scientist, a chemist maybe, because of this solution she was able to come up with.

While waiting for the large, black pot of water to boil, she didn’t have a clue of how to pass the time. Normally she would go out into her garden, but then she would just feel upset about the worms. Her children were to busy at the moment to hear from her, and she would have to wait at least an hour to call them again. Didn’t she have a television somewhere? Maybe she could watch the news, but it was usually too gloomy and unrelated to her life. Who cares if somebody was murdered, run over, or burned alive in their home, if it wasn’t somebody who she knew? When she puttered over to the television, she noticed the VCR that sat below it, and figured that she could watch home movies. They were like shows that were relevant to her life.

When she arrived at her cabinet that was used to store tapes of her home movies, she found it difficult to pick one, but in the end, like always, she decided to watch her wedding video. She was so beautiful on that day, so young, everyone watched her and was so happy for her, there was no reason to pick anything else. However, when she opened the case, it wasn’t inside. It almost broke her heart when her expectations were crushed, and she couldn’t understand how the world could be so cruel to her. First the rain, then her children lie about her, or prioritize their work and families, then her wretched neighbors fill her garden with bugs, hoping that it would turn her house into a zoo, and now this! This was the last straw. Although the water had come to a rolling boil, and steam had started to steadily pour from the top of the pot, she decided it could wait, since the police next door had to be informed of her stolen tape.

There were so many officers out front, so many cars, she felt very confident that she would get the help needed to solve her problems. It wouldn’t be too much to get a handful of these fellows to solve the crime that had been perpetrated against her, and maybe they could take care of the worm situation too. Before she could get too close the the barricade, some bloated cop with a greasy, black mustache told her that she couldn’t go any further. It took her a lot of willpower for her to not show how offended she was, but she had to reply, and decided to tell him, “Do you know who my husband was?”

“What? No, ma’am, I guess I don’t.”

“He was a very hard working man, he ran a hardware store  not too far from here. He was a member of the neighborhood watch here. He was a very important man, and wouldn’t be very happy with the way you’re currently treating me. Why, I have half a mind to file a report and-”

“Look, lady, I’m doing this for your own safety. There’s a dangerous man in there-”

“Hmph, you don’t need to tell me how dangerous he is, he tried to get me killed.”

This seemed to get the mans attention, “How so?”

“Well, he dumped a large amount of worms into my garden-”

“Okay, look, this is serious, I’m going to need you to-”

“Now, look here, I know a lot about serious. I had my wedding tape stolen from my house, and I just need a couple officers to-”

“We cant afford to help you out right now with your misplaced-”

“Stolen.”

“Stolen tape. There’s a dangerous man in there-”

“You don’t need to tell me how dangerous he is.”

This exchange went on for quite some time, and the officer proved to have a lot of patience.

While they were talking, the officer with the megaphone said, “We know you have the child in there, and if you let her go we can make this much easier for you. You don’t have to do anything rash, it doesn’t have to go down like that. Hell, if you give us the girl we’ll let you walk right out of here, we wont bother trying to arrest you or anything. Her safety is more important than-” but the woman didn’t hear any of this. Eventually she became so fed up with the way she was being mistreated, and stormed back into her house, making sure to slam the front door.

When she was back inside, she noticed that the water had finally been done boiling, and ambled over to turn off the stove. She didn’t need the officers anyways, she could solve the problem on her own. Then, when her issues were taken care of, she would call the department and complain about the officer who had been so awful to her, about how he undressed her with his eyes and refused to help her. What were they doing that was so important that they couldn’t even take a little time out of their day to help her find her wedding video? Didn’t they know how important to her it was? It took a little while to find oven mitts, but when they were found she felt very satisfied. The other policemen would probably have sympathy for her, and would definitely help, but that cruel man had kept her from talking to them. He probably knew that they would help her.

It was difficult to get outside, into the garden, without spilling any of the dangerously hot water. Plus, it was almost too heavy for her, so she had to hold it slightly above the ground, arms limping down, with her body hunched over it. It was unclear how she was supposed to get all of the worms, because if she tipped it over there was no way it wouldn’t fall. She considered flooding the whole garden with it, which would probably have the added benefit of getting rid of any unseen bugs, especially if the water heated up the plants, getting to warm for any bugs who may be on the leaves, causing them to hop to the ground which would boil and kill them.

Before she could go through with her plan, there were some loud noises, gun shots, screaming, and a haggard and wild man had leaped over her fence, and crouched down in her petunias. In one hand he had a gun, which were all the same to her, and in the other hand was a little girl, must have been three years old, that seemed afraid, but the man’s hand was placed over her mouth. Both the man and the woman made eye contact for a little bit of time, he was unsure if she was going to be a liability, the police were shouting about trying to see where he went, somebody kept yelling “officer down” and “oh god is this the end”. After what felt like a lifetime to the fugitive, the older woman motioned him inside.

He couldn’t believe it.

She told him, “You can hide in here, I’ll tell this horrible policemen that you went into the other yard. Why should I help them if they wouldn’t help me?”

He thanked her profusely, which made her beam.

She told him, “You can stay as long as you like, but you have to help me with” and she listed of some inane problems that he didn’t care about. It didn’t take very long for him to realize that the woman was out of her mind, and very alone, so he figured after she misdirected the cops he could just bash her brains in with whatever was lying around.