quillsinkandsuch

[quillsinkandsuch]

Manipulative Whore.

Manipulative Whore.

That's what they called me. Not even to my face. I found out because of a domino effect that led to my best friend learning about it. She pressed one of them about it, the one who let it slip to begin with.

Manipulative Whore.

I gave her rides until my car died. I made sure she didn't have to take public transit when it did die. She and her friend showed up to my job to silently make fun of me all the while pretending they were supporting me. No one admits they're wrong, even when people who don't like me call them rude and mean.

Manipulative Whore

Why can't I get it out of my head? What did I do? I've been polite, if not nice. People can usually say what they want. Who cares if they don't like me? Who cares if they think I'm a whore? Who cares if they think I have to manipulate people into liking me and that anyone who chooses me is weak minded in their eyes? Why do I care? Why do I want to understand so bad?

Manipulative Whore.

Manipulative Whore.

Manipulative Whore.

[quillsinkandsuch]

An Intruder

The good neighbors. The fair folk. The fae. They harbored many names and came in many forms, too. Sprites and Brownies, Goblins, and even Elves. They’re supposed to be folklore, fiction to explain the unexplainable. 

“Run this by me again,” I paused, “please. You got in my kitchen by…” I gestured to the large man standing by my counter. 

“You invited me in,” he answered, inspecting my counter. 

“And I did that how?”

“You called me,” he looked up. 

“Right,” I sighed, eyeing him curiously. He didn’t look dangerous, and if his words were true… “Coffee?”

“Pardon?” he raised his lightly tanned hand to his chest in surprise. 

“It’s early morning. I’m going to make myself some coffee,” I explained, advancing toward the counter; he backed along it to the stove, “and I was wondering if you want some.”

“Is it still bitter?” he asked hesitantly. 

“I can sweeten it,” I offered. He looked uncertain. “I sweeten mine, every morning.”

“Alright,” he conceded. 

I felt his eyes on me as I pulled out my mugs and prepared the first cup with my Keurig, leaving the other on the counter empty. I caught him jump out of the corner of my eye when the machine started. I pulled the creamer out of the fridge before fully facing him again. 

Inhuman, uncanny, beautiful—those were the words that first came to mind. He had dark hair, light eyes, and a slight tan. He looked like the ideal version of a man. Drawing me in, begging me to look closer… I turned away, adding sugar and cream to his cup before handing it to him. He smiled in thanks, and his teeth, I shuddered, were sharp. “Sit,” I gestured to the table before making my coffee. 

“Believe me now?” he asked. 

“Would you be offended if I didn’t?” I responded, leaving my drink to brew. He watched me curiously as I pulled out a pan. “Eggs and bacon?”

“What kind of human are you?” he laughed. 

“What kind of human are you?” I asked back, finishing my coffee and exchanging my creamer for food. 

“I’m not,” he answered. I froze for a moment before resuming making breakfast. 

“You just admit that?” 

“Why lie?”

“Why not?” I shrugged, fighting the urge to turn to him. Instead, I plated the bacon and cracked our eggs. 

“You humans and your petty lies,” he tutted. 

We sat in silence as I plated and served our food. I joined him at the table. I began eating but stopped when I noticed he wasn’t eating. 

“Don’t like eggs?” I questioned about to offer an alternative. 

“Don’t like iron,” he corrected, staring intently at the fork in his dish.

“It’s flatware,” I answered. He didn’t move. “It’s stainless steel, not iron.”  

“Oh.”

“If you’re not human, what are you?” I asked as he finally took a bite of his food. 

“Guess,” he said after a moment. 

“Well, you entered without an invitation-”

“-You invited me-,” he cut in.

“So you’re not a vampire?” I watched as he nodded. “Not hairy enough to be a werewolf,” he nodded again. “Siren?”

“Do you see an ocean near by?” he asked. 

“There’s a waterfront at the bottom of the hill,” I tried. 

“You know what I am. You called me here and thus invited me in,” he stood and cleared out dishes. 

“Fae?” I paused as he placed them in the sink. “I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything to summon you. I went on a hike,” I watched him return to the table. He paused at the window. 

“Your Forgot-Me-Nots have root rot,” he sighed. “You need to get new seeds and try again in a bigger pot.” He paused, “but I recommend redrawing the symbols they did the poor little plant some good at least.”

“Why are you-”

“The meal,” he responded as though it answered anything. 

“What should I call you?” I asked. 

“My name?” his brow furrowed. “You don’t need that.”

“But,” I began as he walked down the short hall of my apartment, “hey.” I got up to follow him, but he was gone. “Freaky shit,” I muttered. 

[quillsinkandsuch]

An Apple

“So, you’re telling me that one bite from this apple and all my dreams come true?” I cocked my head as I spoke. Does she think I’m stupid?

“Oh, yes dear!” exclaimed the old hag excitedly. 

I wanted to rebuke her, after all appIes don't grant wishes. Instead, I felt something in me break as she spoke. Even though she was not the most visually appealing, she did seem sincere. I looked down at the apple in my hand. It was blemishless, glossy red in color. I then looked back up at the old woman.

“What if I don’t have any dreams?” I asked quietly. We stared at each other for a long moment before she spoke again. 

“I’m sure you do,” she said very confidently. “I bet you dream of money?” I shook my head no. “What about fame?” I shook my head once more. “Love?” 

Love the word echoed in my head. I clearly saw a face in my mind. It was a boy. He had a dazzling smile, cropped blonde hair, and eyes like the ocean. His easy laughter that was always so warm and welcoming floated into my head. Then the last time I saw him rushed to the forefront of my thoughts. His tear stained face, pleading with me to stay.

“Love?” my words, near silent, were etched with pain. 

“Oh yes, my child," the hag smiled wide showing the gaps where her teeth had long since rotted away. "If your dream is love then simply take a bite and it shall be yours,” She gestured shakily towards the apple.

An apple wouldn't fix what I had broken. It wouldn't reverse time and make me stay with him, with my friends. An apple wouldn't take me from these horrid woods.

I could feel the sneer on my lips when I looked at the old woman again. She looked so happy to give me this gift. I softened. Perhaps she was like me. Alone in the woods with no one to help them. Maybe she pushed her friends away too, long ago.

"One bite?" I asked her gently.

"Just one will do," she nodded enthusiastically.

One bite, what could it hurt?