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jpstandsforjustpatches · 4 years ago

Note

📰 - I will write a drabble that’s happened in my muse’s past or a memory.

Patches was young but had seen plenty of hardships. Being a rare magical creature in a world where magic wasn’t commonplace led to more than her fair share of demonic accusations. Even more so in the late 1700s when most maladies were still blamed on the supernatural. Particularly harsh winters or poor harvests? Well, they had seen that clown demon around, it was obviously her fault.

Of course, she never did anything to try and dissuade the rumors. Why would she? She never knew anything else. All she knew was that she was a scary monster with sharp claws and sharper teeth. Those claws and teeth were how she managed to scrape by and survive. With no guidance, she raised herself on stolen goods and eavesdropping. It was no way to learn. Through this she learned to speak, to read, all the basics that could have been a great foundation for growth. But she also learned that magic was evil, it was to be feared, anything magical was the work of the devil. Which naturally must have included herself.

She clothed herself in pilfered scraps of fabric cobbled together into clothing. Her favorites were always the ones with patterns on them so she took as many different patterns as she could. It was her literal patchwork clothing that earned her the name “Patches”. A name that quickly grew in notoriety over the years.

Most of her early interactions with other living things tended to be food related. Either she was chased for stealing food, or she was doing the chasing, hunting down her prey. Sometimes the two overlapped. Sometimes, she would be cornered, and the butcher had such large knives. Sometimes they managed to catch her by the tail and tried to kill the evil monster. It was only natural for a cornered monster to defend itself, right?

Patches had learned quickly where to bite to disarm, where to bite to slow something down, and of course, where to bite to kill. The last quickly became her preference. Whenever she just fled, there tended to be people looking for her. When she didn’t leave the person alive? She could move on before anyone came to hunt her down. Plus she had the added benefit of more free food.

So it was that she developed a routine. Patches would find her way to a new town, somewhere she didn’t have a reputation yet. She would hunt and steal whatever food she could. Her favorites were pies cooling on windowsills, but those were a rare treat. Usually it was small animals or whatever morsels she could take from pantries without getting caught. She slept in dark alleyways or up in trees, very much like a feral cat. Eventually, as winter would start to creep up, supplies would run thin and temperatures would drop and she would be forced to grow bolder. Winter was when fresh kills were the best, but also when they were the hardest to find. Unless of course, she hunted prey other than wild animals.

In her early years when she killed it had been more based in self defense, but the self hatred of “evil” magic was deeply rooted. She had known killing to be wrong, but... She was wrong wasn’t she? She was an evil monster. Wrong is what she’s supposed to be doing. She was a monster, a wild beast. Besides, was it wrong of the wolf to kill a deer? Not at all. As she reached her teenage years, it became easier and easier to embrace being the wolf, the monster, the thing they feared in the dark.

When she embraced it, it became so much easier to hunt. Who needed to keep to the shadows to steal just enough to get by? Not her. The drunkard sleeping off too many drinks in the alley? That was an easy way to make off with a week’s worth of food. The wandering merchant, stopped on the side of the road to repair a broken wagon wheel? Nobody knew him, nobody would notice him missing. It could have just been a robbery gone wrong, after all. And if it was food they had been transporting? Even better.

Winters became easier. Patches stopped fearing her own magic as much and learned to utilize it to its full potential, discovering new tricks as she practiced. Shape shifting was the most fun. Nobody ever expected that one.

Eventually, enough of the townsfolk would grow wise to her tricks. Whispered rumors of a demon turned to warnings, everyone had a sighting and knew it to be more than a rumor. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble to remain and she would move on to the next unsuspecting town.

Patches should have known that eventually her reputation would precede her.

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Magic was a big secret and if anyone found out, they’d be ostracized or worse. It was only natural that those with magic would band together to form communities and look out for each other. Word of some magic clown beast that could pull itself back together after being sliced up? Oh yes, word of Patches made its way to them very quickly. They were ready when she drifted their way.

At face value, the small town looked no different from any other. Why would it? They didn’t want to attract suspicion from outside. When Patches arrived, nothing seemed amiss to her. It was a quaint little community, perhaps more friendly than anything she’d encountered before. The few adults she ran into on the streets didn’t seem to fear her like usual, if anything, they were polite, downright hospitable. It was... Weird. Different.

Patches felt uncomfortable. She didn’t trust it. Nobody had shown her real kindness before, they always wanted something out of it, why would it be any different here?

Her usual hunting tactics weren’t successful there. Everyone seemed to be watching out for each other, nobody was ever alone for long. Why were they so nice to each other? Why were they being nice to her? Sure, nobody was falling over themselves to offer her food, but even the bare minimum of not chasing her away with pitchforks was something she considered a nice action. When she did get caught snitching food, she got scolded, but never chased down. Even the children in town seemed more interested than afraid. Still, she did notice a few suspicious looks, whispers as soon as she was out of earshot. That seemed more normal to her.

When one of the children approached her in the nearby woods, it caught her off guard. The boy was alone, he’d be easy prey. No different from a stumbling fawn who wandered too far from mother. But the way he walked right up to her, no fear in his eyes, just wonder. It was enough to give her pause.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“You’re spooky.” Was the boy’s very astute reply, “Momma said to stay away from you cause you’re a monster.”

Patches stared down at him, unsurprised that parents were warning their children against her, even if she hadn’t done anything yet, “Then why are you here?”

“Cause you haven’t done anything bad... And you’re neat.”

Patches was sure that stealing food was something they’d consider bad, but no, she hadn’t done any murders or hurt anyone in the town... Yet, “Neat?”

The boy nodded before looking around to make sure they were alone. Once he was sure he motioned for her to bend down so he could loudly whisper, “Can you do magic too?”

This was the first time Patches had encountered anyone who wasn’t afraid of magic. He wanted to see it? Well... Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. What was a toddler going to do anyway? She straightened her back and tilted her head in thought.

Oh she had the perfect idea! Her cat-like tail twisted around, splitting into a cartoonish mouth with chunky, sharp teeth. Instead of terror, she was met with a delighted shout and clapping. It was nice...

“Can it eat?” He sounded so excited to test this out.

Patches laughed, it was one of the few times she’d ever genuinely felt amusement like that, “Of course it can!”

The boy had already scampered off to pick up leaves even before she’d given him an answer. Why leaves? He returned with fistfuls of them and a hopeful look in his eyes.

Well okay then. Patches’ tail mouth opened wide. Please deposit leaves.

The first fistful of leaves was tossed in and he giggled in excitement as she comically crunched on them. They didn’t taste good, of course, but this was just a game wasn’t it? It was good harmless fun. Maybe.. If she met the right people, people who weren’t afraid of magic, things wouldn’t be so bad. It was a nice thought that warmed her heart.

“Again, again!” The boy hopped up and down, waving the other hand full of leaves around.

This time she danced around him, making it more of a game. If he wanted to feed her tail more leaves, he was going to have to catch it first. He obliged, chasing around her tail with delight. For once, the game of chase was an actual game, she wasn’t afraid of being hurt, unafraid of what happened if she got caught. It felt good to let go and just play for once.

The boy practically threw himself at her tail, the sudden extra weight threw her off balance and sent her tumbling to the ground. She just laughed as she got her reward of more leaves pushed against her tail’s jaws. Okay, okay. She parted the jaws and accepted her leafy fate.

A distant shout interrupted their fun. The boy’s name, she guessed, based on how he reacted.

“Can we play again tomorrow?” He didn’t even hesitate to ask as he scrambled up to brush the dirt and leaves off his clothes.

Patches smiled, this was completely new, but didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, unlike all the adults being so weirdly polite. It didn’t feel forced, it felt genuine, “Yeah.. I’d like that.”

The boy ran off with a wave, leaving Patches alone in the woods yet again. She was still hungry, he’d interrupted her hunting, but for a change, she didn’t mind. They probably scared off any nearby animals with all the ruckus, though. Ah... She realized she’d have to seek food elsewhere now.

---------------------

The next morning, she meandered back to that same area of forest, hoping to see her new friend again. He didn’t show. She waited through the afternoon, ears perked at every young voice shouting and playing in the distance, but still nothing.

Patches started to think she’d been lied to. Just as she was about to give up and leave, a rustling caught her attention followed by a whisper, “Miss spooky clown?”

“It’s.... Patches.” She hesitated to give it, but it was the only name she’d ever really known. Patches crept towards the brush. That sounded like the boy from yesterday. “Miss Patches you gotta run.” The warning was urgent but something sounded off.

She didn’t heed the warning and pulled the brush back. She needed to know more, “What are you talking about?”

There she found the boy, huge tears running down his cheeks, “I told my momma... T-That you weren’t bad and we played and stuff. I- I thought if she knew you were nice that she wouldn’t be so scared.” He sniffled and rubbed his nose on a sleeve, “But she got really mad and said I couldn’t come play with you anymore. And- And there’s people looking for you. I think they wanna make you go away.”

Sure enough, Patches heard voices in the distance. They sounded like that of a hunting party, nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. She wasn’t afraid, she knew she could handle herself. It wasn’t like they could kill her anyway.

“I’m sorry... I- I gotta go. Before momma knows I’m not home.” The boy scampered off and just like that, she was alone again.

The voices drew nearer. They had heard the boy running through the underbrush and followed the sound. A shout rose up as one of them spotted Patches, her loud wardrobe giving her away easily in the greenery, especially when she was just standing there.

Patches locked eyes with them, taking note of her current predicament. Four townsfolk stood there, she recognized them as the ones she saw gossiping about her the most Each of them came armed with a rifle and each had theirs pointed right at her. That would hurt a lot, if they managed to hit her.

If they managed to hit her.

One member of the group spoke up, “We know what you’ve done... The trail of destruction you’ve left behind in every community whose doors you’ve darkened.”

“We’re not going to let you ruin what we’ve built. This is a safe haven. You’re not welcome here.” Another agreed.

Patches frowned. How did these people know what she’d already done? Did someone guess where she’d go next and warn them? She only did what was necessary to survive.

It wasn’t wrong of the wolf to kill a deer... But a wolf hunting sheep or cattle tended to come to a head the same way things had now, angry people with guns.

“I’m just trying to survive...” She took a slow, careful step forward, hands raised placatingly, “I’m-”

A bright glow flashed down the neck of the rifle as one of them pulled the trigger. In an instant, half her vision went black, much like the blood that dribbled from her face. The pain that blossomed in her skull was unlike anything she’d felt before. Sure, she’d been shot, it hurt, but not like this.

Patches fell to her knees, her head was spinning and her vision swam. She could see smooth fragments of white in the dirt among the globs of black ichor. A shaky hand reached out to them, was that..? Were those pieces of her face? Her remaining eye frantically fixed itself on the hunting party, terrified. What did they do to her?

One of the others held up her hand. It glowed with a light Patches had never encountered before. As fire sprung forth, it clicked. Magic. This was magic. Different from her own, but magic nonetheless, and it hurt. The flames burned worse than any candle or campfire she had ever touched.

Patches knew now that she had to leave. She knew how to handle the mundane, the weak. This was a whole new animal and she was so scared. As she turned to run, another shot rang out behind her. It missed, but she could see the faint glow on the tree it struck as she passed by.

A few more shots sounded off behind her as she ran. Though she couldn’t tell anymore if they were trying to hit her or run her off. It had worked regardless. She found herself scared out of her mind, half-blind, and running like a bat out of hell.

The clown didn’t stop until she ended up miles from the town. She slumped against a tree to try and catch her breath. Blood and tears trickled from her respective eye sockets. Her eye hadn’t come back yet. Why hadn’t it come back? It never took this long before. A knot formed in her stomach as realization dawned on her.

Magic.

That town had been full of magic folk. That was why they didn’t attack her immediately. That was why the boy had asked if she was magic too.

That boy.. That child. He had been so young and innocent, he hadn’t feared her. For one brief moment, she had known what it was to just be another person instead of the monster everyone wanted to destroy. But then... That same child had led those others right to her. All his innocence and kindness got her hurt... It took her eye.

The cold bitterness that dwelled within her grew.

The only time she had ever let her guard down and she ended up literally burnt and half blind.

Kindness never led to anything good.

And children? Well clearly they couldn’t be trusted, not even the ones who meant well.

#manwhospeaksinshitposts #blood #gore #eye trauma #head trauma #guns-#(( i think that's the common content warnings tagged but lmk if there's anything else i missed ))#drabble #(( held onto this idea until after i'd developed her backstory more 8>c ))

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