little-mad - Tumblr blog

little-mad · 2 years

Text

Red-Handed Doll in a Little Blue House

Part 3/?

Click here to go to the last part

Wyatt felt as though he wasn’t fully present in his body as he pulled away from that little window and moved around to the front of the dollhouse. Half of his brain was focused on completing movements and carrying out intentions, meanwhile the other half was still trying to comprehend the fact that one of his new neighbors was currently standing inside of the dollhouse he had recently purchased from a garage sale.

“This feels like an episode of the Twilight Zone,” he thought to himself. Surely any minute now Rod Sterling would come out and explain whatever moral lesson they were trying to teach.

Wyatt reached for the small silver latch on the front edge of the house. He had examined the hinge mechanism closely prior to purchasing it from Mrs. Morrison, so he knew how it worked. Unlike some of the other pieces in his collection, this house did not open in the middle, meaning when he opened it up, no floor would come along with the front wall.

“Just stay close to the back,” he called out as he undid the latch. Something told him someone of her size falling from that height would be extremely hazardous.

Slowly, Wyatt began to pull open the front wall of the house. He kept his free hand poised and ready to catch any furniture or tiny people that may come tumbling out.

Under normal circumstances, Wyatt would have been carefully observing the beautiful interior of the house and gorgeous furniture, but this time around his attention was entirely captured by the miniature woman standing inside the bedroom.

With all barriers removed, she somehow looked even smaller, despite the fact that she fit right in with the dollhouse. It was bizarre, she seemed to be the perfect size for the house, almost like it was made for her or something.

“Okay uh-” Wyatt stopped dead, suddenly realizing he had no idea what this person’s name was. He could vaguely recall Mrs. Morrison saying her name, but what exactly it was that she’d said totally evaded him. “Sorry, what was your name?”

She stood with her back still firmly pressed against the back wall and showed no indication of moving. Her deep brown eyes were blown wide, causing her to resemble a frightened chipmunk; although, a chipmunk might actually be bigger than her at this point.

For a moment she just stared out at Wyatt, and he began to wonder whether she’d heard him or not. Just when he was about to ask the question again, she seemed to shake herself out of whatever reverie she had been caught up in.

“It’s…it’s Sandra, Sandra Kasteros.”

The Kasteros family, Wyatt remembered his aunt and uncle mentioning them in the rundown of all the residents of King Street they’d given him prior to his move-in. From what he could recall, the parents now had their house to themselves after their two daughters had moved out, except for when the youngest came home from college that is. Wyatt was going to assume Sandra here was the youngest.

“Okay, Sandra, I’m Wyatt if you didn’t already know.” He supposed he shouldn’t assume she’d remembered his name when he hadn’t remembered hers. “Um, do you want me to call your parents?”

Wyatt truly had no idea how he was supposed to handle this situation. Believe or not, he’d never had a tiny person pop up inside any of his dollhouses before. Considering he didn’t even know this woman beyond a brief confrontation the day before, it seemed the best idea to let her family take care of it. He had never asked to be wrapped up in this nonsense after all.

Sandra, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share his opinion. She was shaking her head vigorously and had finally taken a couple steps away from the wall. “No way, you cannot tell them!” she hissed. “My mom would go all crazy overprotective and my dad would probably have another heart attack!”

Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up. “What exactly do you want to do then, because, no offense, but I didn’t know when I bought this house that I was signing up to babysit a tiny person.”

A deep scowl took shape on Sandra’s face as she folded her arms over her chest. She was beginning to resemble the version of herself Wyatt had met yesterday. “Who said I need babysitting?”

“Uh, I think your size said it for you.”

Sandra gave an indignant scoff. “Oh please, I’ll figure this bullshit out on my own, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”

“Is she serious??” Wyatt thought to himself. She had to be delusional if she actually thought she could handle this situation by herself. He doubted she’d even be able to make it down from the table on her own.

“Have you seen yourself? You wouldn’t last a minute on your own,” Wyatt stated, now mirroring her crossed arms.

It was obvious Sandra very much wanted to protest that statement. She opened her mouth as if she was about to unleash a lengthy diatribe about how she didn’t need any help; however, at the last second she seemed to stop herself. Her mouth slowly closed, but the scowl on her face deepened.

This woman was stubborn, that much had become quite clear to Wyatt. It was a trait that would likely prove quite difficult to put up with, but Wyatt could be stubborn too. If Sandra didn’t want to tell her parents then fine, he wouldn’t force her, but he wasn’t about to let a four inch tall person go wandering off into the world on their own, no matter how much she may wish to.

Wyatt sighed. “Listen, I’m not trying to be a dick here. I won’t make you tell your parents about this, but I’m not gonna let you go off on your own either.”

Sandra shook her head. “You said it yourself, you didn’t sign up for this, I’m not gonna-”

“Hold on,” Wyatt interrupted. “I’m not going to agree to let you stay here indefinitely, but I will make a deal with you.” He was well aware that he hadn’t thought this whole plan through, and yet for some reason he was going through with it anyways. “You can stay at my place for three days, and if we haven’t figured your…situation out by then, I’m calling your parents and letting them know what happened regardless of what you want.”

Realistically, Wyatt had no idea how he was going to manage taking care of a tiny person for three days, because no matter what Sandra said, there was absolutely no way she could look after herself. As nice as the dollhouse was, he doubted it was equipped with working plumbing, appliances, or a fully stocked kitchen.

Wyatt was an only child, meaning no little siblings or even little nieces and nephews that he had experience taking care of. His mom was allergic to dogs, so the only pets he’d had growing up had been cats, who were largely independent creatures. By all standards, he was entirely unprepared for the undertaking that was keeping a living thing alive.

Now standing at the end of the miniature bed, Sandra looked out at Wyatt with a contemplative expression on her face. At the very least she looked less waspish, hopefully that meant she was going to think about things rationally now. If she decided not to accept the deal and tried to set out on her own, Wyatt would have no choice but to force her to stay, which he was certain would be very unpleasant for both parties.

Wyatt watched on silently as Sandra mulled the deal over. If he had to guess, he would say she was torn. She probably knew it was the best offer she was going to get, but likely didn't like the prospect of her parents finding out about the situation if she failed to find a solution within three days.

Finally, after several long moments, Sandra blew out a relenting sigh. “Fine, I’ll take your deal.” She kept her arms folded over her chest, as if to signal to Wyatt that she still wasn’t entirely happy with the arrangement. “But I meant what I said before, I don’t need a babysitter and I definitely don’t want you treating me like some kind of charity case.”

“I swear she doesn’t realize how vulnerable she is right now.” Wyatt kept the thought to himself rather than voicing it aloud; he didn’t want to stir up another argument so soon.

He understood Sandra’s desire for independence, he really did. He was sure if he were in her position, he would be averse to giving up his autonomy as well. That being said, she needed to be realistic. If she wanted to have any chance of surviving even just three days, she would need his help to do it. Stubbornness could only get you so far.

—

Ever since one of the room’s walls had been effortlessly pulled away, I had been fighting against base instincts that urged me to run and hide. The terror of being in the presence of someone far larger than myself was multiplied several times over without any form of barrier between us. I felt raw and exposed, and I despised it.

Things had gotten even scarier when Wyatt had suggested calling my parents and telling them about my “condition.” I was positive neither of them would react well to the news that their daughter had shrunken down to the size of a doll, not to mention the fact that the idea of anyone I actually knew seeing me like this made me sick to my stomach.

Thankfully, I had managed to talk Wyatt out of contacting my parents, even if only for three days. I had no clue what the chances of me turning back to normal within three days were, but my options were pretty limited. Despite what I’d said to Wyatt, I knew going off on my own would be…less than ideal. Still, I wasn’t about to allow myself to be treated like some kind of weak, defenseless creature.

“So,” I flinched as Wyatt reached to the side out of my view and pulled back a massive chair, “you really just woke up inside the house, then?” He sat in the chair backwards with his arms resting on the wooden back.

My heart was racing from just witnessing that simple movement. Everything he did was just so damn big. It was like watching a force of nature happen right before my eyes.

It took me a moment to process what Wyatt had just said due to the mini heart-attack I had just undergone. I was grateful he didn’t press me to answer quicker, though I could tell from his lifted eyebrows that he had definitely taken note of the delay.

“Oh um, yeah, that’s right.”

Wyatt pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “What about before that? What do you remember?”

“Well I-” I stopped myself dead.

How stupid was I? I couldn’t just admit to this guy that I had been trying to take the dollhouse out from under him, especially not when he was, for all intents and purposes, a giant who could easily crush the life out of me if he so chose.

“Uh, I was at home…sleeping,” I lied, forcing myself to meet Wyatt’s eyes as I did so.

Wyatt frowned, and for a split second I could’ve sworn he had somehow caught me in my lie; but then, “This is so bizarre.” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “It’s like you teleported in your sleep.”

A nervous chuckle forced its way out of me. “Heh yeah, something like that.” I reached up to rub the back of my neck, eager to do anything with my hands so the compulsion to wring them wouldn’t win out.

I wasn’t a stranger to lying, but it wasn’t as though it was second nature to me. I stretched the truth from time to time when the situation called for it and I liked to think I was usually fairly convincing, but lying to someone big enough to step on you felt like a whole new ballgame. The stakes were so much higher if I got found out.

“By the way-” I snapped back to attention at Wyatt’s voice. “Were you wanting to get down from there?”

My eyes widened. By “get down from there” did he mean come out of the house? I didn’t much like the sound of that. Removing the front wall had been bad enough, stepping outside of the dollhouse altogether would leave me completely exposed to the now gigantic world. Not to mention the fact that the bedroom door wouldn’t open, meaning my only way down would be with Wyatt’s help. Just the thought sent a shiver across my skin.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, eying Wyatt’s hands nervously. God, they were so big, the whole things were easily longer than my whole body currently was.

Wyatt, seeming to catch my wary glances towards his hands, began to shake his head. “I didn’t mean like that,” he insisted, almost sounding as opposed to the idea as I was. “I meant you could use the stairs.”

It was something of a relief that Wyatt didn’t have any plans, or apparently any desires either, to remove me from the house himself. However, he didn’t seem to be aware of the state of the bedroom door.

“It’s locked, or stuck, or something,” I explained, pointing a thumb towards the door.

Those large hazel eyes of Wyatt’s shifted towards the wooden door on the side of the bedroom. “Hmm, let me see.” I was given absolutely zero warning before the giant in front of me was launching into motion.

A near silent yelp escaped me as one of Wyatt’s enormous hands began a swift approach. I stumbled backwards into the corner, bumping into the vanity as I did so.

The hand continued its advance and before I knew it, it had invaded the space of the room. The juxtaposition smacked me in the face hard. Seeing that human hand next to furniture that felt entirely normal sized to me was…humbling. For the first time, I truly felt like the abnormal one.

I watched on with wide eyes as the hand fiddled with the bedroom door; the knob completely disappeared under fingertips larger than my head. At first, Wyatt seemed to have just as much luck as I had; however, after a firm push and a jiggle, he managed to shove the door open.

“There we go,” Wyatt remarked as his hand retreated. My racing heart only began to slow once the room was once again free of any giant appendages. “Hopefully that’s the only door like that.”

Wyatt had resumed his position of resting his arms on the back of his chair. It was only once he had shifted his attention back to me that I realized I was still cowering in the corner of the room. I cleared my throat as I pushed away from the vanity. “Uh, yeah hopefully.” I felt my cheeks warming against my will.

I needed to get better at regulating my reactions. Now that I knew Wyatt wasn’t strictly out to get me, my fear responses just made me look like an irrational coward and I really couldn’t have that.

As casually as possible given the circumstances, I made my way across the room to the now open door. I peered through the doorway and was met with the sight of what appeared to be a bathroom. At the back of the room, in front of a curtained window was a white porcelain pedestal sink. A matching white porcelain toilet was located to the right of the door I stood in.

“That’s the powder room,” Wyatt announced and I had to suppress a flinch from the sudden voice. Observing yet another seemingly normal sized room had allowed me to momentarily forget my current situation.

Like the bedroom, the “powder room,” as Wyatt called it, had a vintage feel to it. Aside from the toilet and sink, there was a floor mirror on the opposite side of the room, a woven hamper in one of the corners, and even a towel bar attached to the wall with a fluffy yellow towel hanging on it. Had I not known better, I might’ve thought it was a real, functioning bathroom.

Directly across from the door I had just come from was another door that presumably led into another room in the house. This dollhouse was very different from the ones I’d played with as a child. The presence of interior doors was one distinct difference. I suppose it was a detail reserved for higher quality houses than the ones I had experience with.

“You can get to the stairs in the next room,” Wyatt explained. It was so strange how he had a complete view of the entire house at one time, meanwhile I was restricted to the room I was in. It made Wyatt seem omniscient of something, which really wasn’t helping me to be less intimidated by him.

I made my way across the room to the next door, which thankfully seemed to possess none of the issues the last one had had and swung open easily. The room on the other side was of a similar size to the bedroom, except rather than featuring a bed and vanity, it had a small wooden desk with a matching chair and a side table topped with a cream and gold colored globe.

Taking a few steps further, I could see the very top of a set of stairs at the opposite end of the room. I began to wonder exactly how big this house was. Even when I’d been human sized it had looked pretty big, it would be interesting to see how that translated to someone who could fit inside the place.

A glance out of the corner of my eye proved that Wyatt was in the same spot as the last time I had checked, his gaze still fixed on me. There didn’t appear to be any kind of malice or ill-intent intended from his continued observation, but the more he did it, the more I felt like a circus freak, or a zoo animal on display or something. It was unnerving.

I blew out an impatient sigh as I turned around to face the giant man straight on. “Could you stop staring at me like that?” I asked, arms folded over my chest.

Wyatt’s eyebrows rose up as if to indicate he hadn’t been expecting this kind of reaction from me. “Shouldn’t he know staring is rude, no matter the person’s size?”

Of course, because this was the same jerk who had withheld a dollhouse from a sweet little girl, he didn’t seem embarrassed by his poor manners in the slightest. “I was just looking, not staring,” Wyatt stated with an unconcerned shrug. I rolled my eyes. “Of all the people to be stuck with when I’m shrunk, why did it have to be this guy?”

#glad ppl seem to be enjoying this so far #g/t writing #my writing #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t story

33 notes · View notes

little-mad · 2 years

Text

Red-Handed Doll in a Little Blue House

Part 2/?

Click here to go to the last part

As soon as Wyatt got home with the newest addition to his collection, he brought it straight to what he affectionately referred to as the “showroom.” He was grateful to be relieved of the hefty weight once he set it down on its designated table; it was definitely the biggest house in his collection.

Before he allowed himself to examine his new piece further, Wyatt made sure to go back and shut the front door that he had left wide open. Thankfully he’d had the foresight to leave it open when he left so that he wouldn’t have to deal with trying to turn doorknobs while his arms were wrapped around a huge dollhouse.

Once the door was taken care of, Wyatt made his way back to the showroom. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he took in the sight of the stunning new dollhouse he had obtained. He still couldn’t believe he had gotten his hands on such an incredible piece of craftsmanship for just twenty-five dollars. All of the other members of his collection had cost at least a hundred bucks each.

As Wyatt approached the miniature Victorian manor, he took a moment to appreciate how smoothly the siding had been painted. There were a few chips in the royal blue paint here and there from natural wear, but overall it seemed to be in quite good condition. Wyatt was grateful Mrs. Morrison had been such a good caretaker.

Prior to purchasing the dollhouse, he had taken a brief glance at the interior, but he was eager to get a more in-depth look. Before opening the house at its hinges, Wyatt elected to peek in through the windows. He wanted to make sure none of the furniture inside was at risk of falling out when he did eventually open the house all the way up.

Lowering himself into a half crouch, Wyatt leaned in to get a look inside one of the upper windows on the side. It was dark inside of the tiny room, making it difficult to see much of anything; therefore he didn’t even notice a little figure standing inside until a high pitched scream flew out its mouth.

“Shit!” Wyatt recoiled. The abrupt movement caused him to lose his somewhat precarious balance and fall swiftly down onto his backside.

The pain caused from his unexpected tumble was ignored in favor of wondering what in the hell he had just seen.

“A doll, it has to be a doll,” Wyatt insisted to himself mentally. There were all kinds of talking dolls on the market these days, right? That being said, he didn’t know of any that screamed…maybe it was some kind of horror movie doll?

Slowly, Wyatt shifted himself onto his knees. With his fingers on the edge of the table he pulled himself up until he was once again level with that little rectangular window.

Holding his breath, Wyatt peered back into the room. At first he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. There was a toy bed, a vanity, and an end table. The strange human shaped figure he’d seen before was completely absent, which was far from reassuring.

Wyatt squinted through the darkness, searching for any sign of the doll-thing he had witnessed just moments ago. Just when he was about to give up and deem himself crazy, Wyatt caught sight of something that made his heartbeat stutter.

There huddled in the corner of the room was a shape, a moving shape. At first glance it looked like nothing more than a shadowy blob, but as he stared longer he noticed the steady up and down movement reminiscent of breathing.

Okay, Wyatt had heard of talking dolls, he’d even heard of walking dolls, but never had he heard of a breathing doll. This was getting way too strange.

He was at a loss for what to do next. Should he try to talk to it? Surely it couldn’t understand and speak back to him, but maybe it was like an animal and it would respond to the sound of his voice?

“Um, hey there…little thing…” He really had no clue what he was doing, but he knew he felt rather silly doing it.

Wyatt could swear he saw the figure stiffen at the sound of his voice. Was it scared?

“I-uh don’t know what exactly you are, but I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to make his voice sound soothing, though he wasn’t sure how well it was coming across. Tenderness wasn’t really his strong suit.

At this point he was essentially attempting to will his eyes into being able to see better in the dark. No amount of squinting was allowing him to see the little whatever-it-was any better.

“Dammit,” Wyatt hissed under his breath as he reluctantly pulled away from the dollhouse. He needed to find something to illuminate the tiny bedroom. He didn’t feel comfortable opening the house up when he didn’t know what exactly it was that was hiding inside.

Tripping over his own feet as he went, it seemed a miracle Wyatt was able to make it into the kitchen without falling over. He tugged open what was essentially a junk drawer and began to fish around inside. He recalled unpacking one of those little penlights into the drawer yesterday, unfortunately he had seemed to bury it under a pile of other crap.

“Come on, come on…there!” After several agonizing seconds of searching, Wyatt finally managed to snag the little silver cased flashlight. Once his prize was obtained, he wasted no time in hurrying back into the showroom.

To be honest, Wyatt was half expecting the little figure to be gone all together when he looked back into the dollhouse window for the third time. That proved not to be the case; however, it had moved during his absence. Now the figure was pressed up against the door that led into one of the other rooms in the house.

He was really hoping it didn’t try to leave the room. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to see it wherever it went, each room in the dollhouse had at least one window attached to it, but he didn’t much care for the idea of having to scramble from window to window in order to chase after the thing.

“I’m…I’m just going to turn on a little light,” he informed the figure, though he very much doubted it had any idea what he was saying.

A quick click of the button at the end of the penlight later and light was finally flooding into the miniature bedroom, and what it revealed made his jaw drop.

Standing there pressed up against the little wooden door was a person…a human person with two eyes, a mouth, and a nose. There were no wings, or horns, or tails, or anything to suggest this thing was not a human–aside from the size of course.

In fact, it was stunning just how normal it was. Its skin was of a light olive tone, and it had a head of dark brown curls. It was dressed in a black and white baseball tee that was tucked into a pair of high waisted jean shorts. It was even accessorized with a yellow scrunchie on its wrist and a black stretchy choker on its neck.

The longer Wyatt stared, the more a sense of familiarity began to dawn on him. “I swear I’ve seen this face before,” he thought to himself. It was like a bizarre feeling of deja vu that he couldn’t shake.

He tried to imagine a voice coming out of that body, hoping it would jog some kind of memory. After a moment of strained thought, something finally popped into his head. “What do you want it for then?” The hostile tone of voice was quite fresh in his memory, because he’d heard it only just yesterday.

“You’re the one from the garage sale, the one who wanted the dollhouse!” It was only after Wyatt had exclaimed these words that he realized how insane the statement was. It shouldn’t be possible. The young woman from yesterday had been blatantly human sized, how the hell could she be appearing in front of him now at no more than four inches tall?

—

Every moment since that massive eye appeared in front of the window had been charged with sheer terror. My brain had pretty much entirely abandoned complex thought in favor of running off of pure primal instinct.

Unfortunately, I don’t think my primal instincts were particularly well honed, which was really no wonder considering I’d lived most of my life in a quiet suburb. Therefore, the best my instincts could come up with was cowering in the corner.

Although, to be fair to my instincts, they had managed to finally come up with a slightly better plan during the period following the abrupt departure of the owner of said giant eye. I suppose my fight or flight response must have kicked in, and for very obvious reasons, I chose flight.

Except there was a little problem with that plan—the only door in the room turned out to be locked. I had been desperately struggling with the doorknob up until I heard those loud thuds once again, the thuds I now knew were the result of massive footsteps.

I still couldn’t process that, I still couldn’t process the fact that there was an actual, earth shaking, booming voiced giant outside this building. Of all the fantastical creatures that I thought could maybe exist in this world, giants had never been on the list, because how the hell would a giant hide its existence from the rest of the world?

And yet it was real. About twenty pinches to my arm had proven I wasn’t asleep and that this was not a dream. There was no more room left for denial. I couldn’t afford it.

A pit formed deep in my stomach as once again a huge shadow fell over the room. I tried the doorknob one last time. Nothing.

“I’m…I’m just going to turn on a little light.” The giant’s words reverberated around me. I had only an instant to try to brace myself before a blinding light shot through the window and lit up every formerly dark corner of the bedroom.

My skin crawled with the sensation of that eye observing me. There was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go. I was trapped in that stare for as long as it took this giant to satisfy its curiosity.

I could see a little bit more of the giant’s face now. Its skin was of an ivory tone, and I could make out the edge of a russet colored eyebrow above that hazel eye. Nothing I had seen of it thus far indicated it had anything but a human-esque appearance–it even spoke in a coherent, human way.

The silent observation was interrupted by an exclamation from the giant so loud it made my ears ache. “You’re the one from the garage sale, the one who wanted the dollhouse!”

It took several moments for the statement to seep into my awareness, and even once it had, I still struggled to grapple with the implication of the words. This enormous titan of a creature knew I had been at a garage sale, and it also knew I had wanted the dollhouse. “That’s not possible,” I insisted to myself. “The only ones who even knew I wanted it were Mrs. Morrison and…”

The hazel colored eye had seemed vaguely familiar, but I had thought nothing of it until now. As I reflected back on my memories, it became clear: Wyatt Lutz and this giant had the same eyes.

At that moment, my fear fell into the backseat. The terror of a being at least fifteen times my size faded enough to allow my feet to carry my forwards. I walked and walked until I stood directly in front of that window.

The giant had something of a grimace on its face upon my approach. As I had gotten closer, it had pulled back, allowing me a better view of the rest of its face; it was narrow, with pointed features, and the bangs from a tousled curtain cut brushed across the forehead.

There was no doubt left. This giant and Wyatt Lutz were one and the same.

“You-you kidnapped me!” My fear had officially gone from the backseat all the way to the trunk.

I had no idea how he managed it, but this Wyatt guy had somehow turned himself into a giant, abducted me, and was now keeping me hostage in some strange house.

Admittedly, that sounded insane, but clearly it had to be the reality. Maybe he had access to some kind of growth ray like the one in Honey, I Blew Up the Kid. I’d watched that movie with Nora a year ago. Of course, at the time I had no clue it would become so relevant to my real life.

Wyatt appeared thoroughly taken aback by my outburst. It seemed to take him a minute to even process my accusation before he got himself back together. “What? No, I didn’t!” I flinched at the volume of his voice. “I-you just appeared in my dollhouse!”

My eyebrows shot up. “Are you insane, I’m not in your dollhouse!” I suppose at his size any normal house would look like a dollhouse to him, but he should still be able to tell the difference.

A strange look came over Wyatt’s face, it almost seemed…sympathetic? He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped before any words came out. He bit his lip for a moment, and then, “Do you…do you not know where you are?”

What a stupid question. Of course I didn’t, and he should know that considering he was the one who kidnapped me. However, as I looked at Wyatt’s face longer, the more uncertain I became of whether that was actually the truth. He wasn’t acting like a kidnapper. A kidnapper, especially a gigantic one, wouldn’t need to try to trick his victim. So what was going on?

I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to frown out at Wyatt. “No, I just woke up in here a little while ago.” As I said it, my most recent memories from before waking up in this room started to come back to me. I had been in Mrs. Morrison’s driveway, about to make off with the dollhouse she’d sold to Wyatt. I remembered feeling a kind of shock when I tried to touch the thing, and then everything had gone dark.

“Woke up? How long have you been in there?” Wyatt’s brows were furrowed now and there was suddenly an intense sort of air about him.

How long had it been? With no clock and the strange behavior of the sun, there was no real way for me to determine time. The whole earthquake ordeal had felt like an eternity, but really it could have been only a few minutes.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I woke up to voices and then there were these…these tremors I guess, and then you showed up.” I still wasn’t convinced by Wyatt’s whole innocent act, but I didn’t see the harm in playing into it for the moment at least.

“Tremors?” There was confusion in Wyatt’s voice, but then he physically winced as if some sort of realization dawned on him. “Oh my god, you were in there when I picked up the house earlier.” There was guilt written all over his face, and now I understood why.

“You mean you picked up this house with me in it?!” It was a wonder the whole building hadn’t collapsed. Something told me houses weren’t built to withstand a giant scooping them up.

“Well yeah, but I didn’t know you were in there!” Wyatt insisted, hands raised defensively.

“Oh so you just go around picking up random houses?”

“No, I pick up the dollhouses I buy.”

That shut me up.

I could swear I could practically feel the blood draining from my face. I was beginning to feel lightheaded all of sudden, and my legs didn’t feel nearly as capable of holding me up as they once had.

The voices I’d heard when I first woke up…one had belonged to Wyatt, the other to an elderly woman–Mrs. Morrison. Mrs. Morrison wasn’t a giant, there was simply no way. So why had her voice sounded loud and powerful like Wyatt’s?

I swept my gaze over the room again. With the light from Wyatt’s flashlight I was able to see everything much more clearly. I was now able to make out the stitching on the comforter; the thread was too thick for me to ever be able to hold in between two fingers. Next I noticed the chairs, and the fact that the padding set into them was abnormally bulky.

All of the furniture looked beautiful, but there was something slightly off about all of it…as if it hadn’t been made by someone my size.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not a giant?” The words came out surprisingly calm.

Those hazel eyes of Wyatt’s went wide. “What? No! I’m not a giant, I–”

I didn’t let him finish. My brief calm was quickly beginning to crumble. “So you’re saying that-that I’m tiny or something.” I didn’t phrase it as a question, but Wyatt still had a deer-in-headlights look about him, as if he thought I expected an answer from him and he didn’t have a good one to give.

“I-uh…I promise I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

I gave a derisive snort, but it ended up coming out along with a humorless and high strung laugh.

Wyatt not knowing how I had ended up in this situation wasn’t exactly reassuring; it just meant neither of us knew the cause. At least if he had been the perpetrator I might have had a chance to convince him to turn me back or something, but now…

“So neither of us know how I…shrunk.” I swallowed hard. Saying that word out loud left a bad taste in my mouth. “And neither of us know how I ended up in this house.” Wyatt gave a slow nod in response. “And you’re saying this house is the dollhouse from the garage sale?” I clamped my left hand around my right in an attempt to suppress the quivering that was quickly beginning to build.

“Pretty much,” Wyatt replied after a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s not possible!”

People didn’t just shrink, that didn’t happen. So why in the hell was it happening to me?

Wyatt shook his head. “I’m just as confused as you are.” And I believed him when he said it. As tempting as it had been to pin this whole situation on him, it had become increasingly obvious that he was equally as in the dark as I was. It would take a seriously good actor to fake the level of befuddlement he was exhibiting. “Hey uh, as fun as it is talking through a tiny window, it’s kind of awkward. So I’m gonna pull open the front of the house, okay?”

That did not sound okay, in fact it sounded terrifying. The whole front of the building was going to get pulled away?! It sounded like something out of a giant monster movie or something. Not to mention the fact I would be completely exposed to Wyatt, with no walls or windows in between me and the comparative giant.

With all that being said, realistically I knew that staying holed up in this room forever wasn’t a viable option. I had no idea how I’d become small, but the chances of me just randomly popping back to my normal size seemed slim. I needed to find a way to figure out what the hell was going on, and doing that would be hard while locked up inside a dollhouse.

And so, it was with quite a bit of reluctance that I nodded my head. “Just get it over with.”

#g/t writing #my writing #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t story

53 notes · View notes

little-mad · 2 years

Photo

THEY!

Thank you so much to @seirui for drawing them!

435 notes · View notes

little-mad · 2 years

Note

Consider: Big kiss that squishes entire body...

I like the way you think

249 notes · View notes

little-mad · 2 years

Text

Red-Handed Doll in a Little Blue House

Part 1/?

Idrk exactly what this is, I just kind of felt like writing something and this happened.

Mrs. Morrison’s driveway was decorated from the curb all the way up into the garage with a stunning assortment of various items. There were stacks of old books, totes full of hand-painted china, racks of vintage clothes, and much, much more.

The old woman’s collection had drawn a small crowd of neighbors to converge on 118 King Street. I was one such neighbor.

“Since I’m going to be moving in with my daughter next month, I figured it was time to get rid of some of this old stuff,” Mrs. Morrison explained to one of my other neighbors. She sat in a folding chair inside the garage, a small wooden table with a cash box on top of it beside her.

I wandered aimlessly between the rows and rows of stuff. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, or necessarily even intending on buying anything. After returning home from college for summer break a week ago, I had found myself becoming increasingly bored out of my mind. Once I had complained for the third time that day, my mom had insisted I entertain myself by browsing Mrs. Morrison’s yard sale.

And so here I was wandering around among an elderly woman’s old odds and ends.

“Auntie Sandra!” a familiar voice exclaimed from behind me.

I whipped around to see my little six year old niece dashing down the sidewalk, blond pigtails bouncing up and down as she ran. “Hey, kiddo! What’re you doing here?” I dropped down to crouch just in time for her three foot body to collide into me for a hug.

“We accidentally left Nora’s dance bag at mom’s house last time we were there so we came to pick it up before her class.” I glanced over my niece’s shoulder to see my older sister, Holly standing there, the aforementioned pink dance bag slung over her shoulder. “When mom told us you were over here, Nora insisted on coming to say hi.”

“Aw, well I’m glad to see you,” I told Nora as she finally pulled out of the hug. “You just got back from a camping trip yesterday, didn’t you? I bet that was fun.”

“Yeah, we got to have lots of s’mores,” Nora remarked with a toothy grin.

I gave Nora a quick cheek pinch before straightening back up. “I’m still good to come over tomorrow, right?” I asked my sister, who was glancing at her watch anxiously.

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course. Todd’s planning on grilling burgers.”

“Mommy, look at this!” Neither Holly nor I had noticed little Nora slipping off until she called out. I turned around to see the six year old pointing up at a rather elaborate looking dollhouse sitting atop a card table. “Can I have it?”

The house was undeniably impressive, even from a distance I could tell it had been intricately crafted. It seemed to have been designed in a classic Victorian style, complete with a witch’s hat turret and fish-scale shingles. It was no surprise that it had caught Nora’s eye.

“Nora honey, your birthday is only three days away and your daddy and I have already bought your gifts,” Holly explained in a gentle tone.

“But I want this!”

“I understand, sweetie, but we really don’t have time for this,” Holly insisted with another worried glance at her watch. “We have to get you to dance class.”

Nora opened her mouth as if she wanted to argue further, but seemed to decide against it. Instead she put on her most pitiful pouty face and dejectedly shuffled her way over to her mother.

“I promise you’ll get lots of fun presents for your birthday,” Holly assured her daughter as she took a hold of her little hand. She then turned her attention to me. “Sorry we have to rush off, we’ll see you tomorrow though!”

With one last wave from my sister, and a miserable look from Nora, the two set off. As soon as they were out of sight I reached into my pocket to extract the wad of cash I had blindly grabbed out of my wallet on the way out of the house. I hadn’t really been planning on getting anything from the yard sale, but it had seemed silly to go to one without any money whatsoever.

I thumbed through the bills to determine I had about thirty bucks. It was everything I had withdrawn from the ATM a couple weeks ago, but I had no idea if it would be enough to cover the cost of the dollhouse.

It had been my intention to go out in the next day or so and buy something to give to Nora for her birthday. Holly had given me a couple ideas including a new Polly Pocket set, a Beanie Baby monkey, or a purple tutu that would match with her purple leotard. However, all those ideas flew out the window the moment I saw the longing in Nora’s eyes as she looked at that dollhouse.

Anxiously I approached the card table on which the magnificent miniature structure sat. I braced myself as I glanced down at the folded notecard which listed the item’s price.

In thick red letters the card read “$25.” I couldn’t believe it. The house must’ve cost at least five times that to make, and yet Mrs. Morrison was selling it so cheap. I had to wonder if she was aware of how valuable it could be, or if she simply didn’t care. Either way, I wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.

“Mrs. Morrison!” I waved my wad of cash in the air as I jogged up to where the old woman sat in the garage. “I’d like to buy that dollhouse.”

“Oh, Sandra dear, so good to see you back in town,” Mrs. Morrison greeted, a friendly smile forming on her wrinkled face. “But, I’m afraid I already sold that house to this young man here.”

My gaze snapped to the side, suddenly taking note of the guy who had been standing there this whole time. While Mrs. Morrison calling someone young could mean anything below about seventy-five, this guy appeared to be quite young—like around my age, certainly no older than twenty-three or twenty-four. He was a couple inches taller than me and possessed a somewhat narrow face and pointed features. His light brown hair was styled in a tousled curtain cut reminiscent of ones I had seen on TV actors.

“Who are you?” I questioned, eyebrows raised and arms folded over my chest.

“This is Wyatt Lutz, he’s moving into his aunt and uncle’s place,” Mrs. Morrison spoke up before the man could answer for himself. “An awful big house for just one person, I hope you won’t get too lonely, dear.” She offered the man, Wyatt apparently was his name, a friendly smile before turning her attention to slipping the stack of bills in her hand into the cashbox.

“Um, well actually I was really hoping I could buy that dollhouse for my niece,” I started, gaze going back and forth between Mrs. Morrison and Wyatt. “It’s her birthday in a couple days and I wanted to surprise her.”

A sympathetic look crossed Mrs. Morrison’s face, even as she continued to stuff her recently obtained money away. “Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie. I already promised this gentleman he could have it.”

I restrained myself from glaring darkly as I shifted my focus over to Wyatt. What did a grown man need with a dollhouse anyways? Was he planning on giving it to a younger relative as well?

“Sorry, I hope you find something for your niece.” And that was all I got from the guy before he turned back to Mrs. Morrison. “Hey, is it alright if I pick it up tomorrow? I’d like to get a little more unpacked before I bring anything new in.”

“Sure, that’s just fine. I’ll leave it out for you.”

“Great, thanks.” With one last wave to Mrs. Morrison, Wyatt started off down the driveway.

“What the hell is wrong with this guy?” I thought to myself as I watched him make his way towards the sidewalk. How could he be so dismissive and rude? He’d hardly spared me a glance, let alone given me the chance to plead my case for the dollhouse.

I nearly ground my teeth together from how tightly I had clenched my jaw. This wasn’t right. All I wanted to do was give Nora the kind of present she deserved, and this random new guy in the neighborhood had swooped in and taken it away from me. No, no way was that going to fly.

Fist clenched at my sides, I stormed out of the garage after Wyatt. By the time I reached him he was already a ways down the sidewalk, headed towards the opposite end of the street from where I lived.

“Excuse me.” I halted in place, arms folded over my chest.

With a slow turn, Wyatt rotated around to look at me. “Uh, yes?”

I took a moment to look the man over in more detail. He was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans that had been rolled up at the ankles. Tucked into the waistline of his jeans was a plain, oversized, white t-shirt. It was nothing flashy, though he was admittedly better dressed than a lot of the guys I knew back on campus.

With an imperceptible shake of my head, I forced myself to abandon those thoughts and focus on the matter at hand. “I was wondering if there was any way I could convince you to let me have that dollhouse,” I stated, trying to employ the persuasion skills I had been taught in my communications class.

Wyatt stuck his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think so.” There was absolutely zero sympathy in those hazel eyes of his. He just stared back at me with an emotionless expression on his face.

I forced myself not to allow a scowl to cross my features. “And why not?” I questioned, keeping my tone as even as possible.

“Because I want to have it.” The answer was so simple, and maybe I should have given him some credit for being so honest, but I was getting far too peeved off for that.

“But my niece really wanted it–”

“No offense to your niece or anything, but a piece of fine craftsmanship like that does not belong in the hands of a child.”

My jaw nearly dropped. Was I hearing that right? Was this guy seriously saying that a dollhouse, a literal children’s toy, didn't belong in the hands of a child?!

“What do you want it for then?” I demanded, all former pretense of civility quickly abandoned.

Wyatt lifted a single eyebrow as he looked at me, as though he were scrutinizing an interesting but still inferior creature. “I collect handcrafted dollhouses,” he stated simply; and before I got the chance to even conjure up a response, he was turning back around and walking down the sidewalk again.

I thought about yelling after him, I even thought about chasing him down and demanding he explain to my little niece why he deserved the dollhouse more than her, but instead my mind started to think some devious thoughts.

Wyatt wouldn’t be picking up the dollhouse until tomorrow, and I doubted Mrs. Morrison intended on taking all of her leftover merchandise inside overnight. It wasn’t forecasted to rain, and our neighborhood was far from being known as dangerous in any capacity—most houses left their front doors unlocked for god’s sake. No, Mrs. Morrison would leave the dollhouse out on the driveway overnight and there would be nothing to stop me from snagging it for myself.

Was it a sneaky, underhanded plan? Sure, but what was worse: a little harmless robbery, or taking a dollhouse away from a sweet little girl on her birthday? Wyatt would be the only one negatively impacted, and he would surely get over it soon enough and find another handcrafted dollhouse for his precious collection.

And so, a quarter past midnight, I slipped out the back door of my house and snuck my way over to Mrs. Morrison’s property. As expected, the dollhouse remained sitting atop the card table, just waiting for me to nab it.

As I approached the table, I fished thirty dollars in cash out of my pocket. Just in case Wyatt gave old Mrs. Morrison a hard time about the missing dollhouse and demanded his money back, I would leave some cash as a means of compensation.

I looked over the large dollhouse once again as I set the money down on the table. It really was beautiful. I could understand why someone would want to add it to their collection—but still, it wasn’t worth depriving a child of joy, and plus, Wyatt had been a total ass about the whole situation, he deserved what he had coming.

Now feeling affirmed in my actions, I took a deep breath and reached out to wrap my arms around the dollhouse. Despite being a miniature house, it was quite large, definitely larger than any of the dollhouses I’d had as a kid. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too heavy to carry on my own, otherwise I would have to reevaluate my whole plan altogether.

However, I didn’t even get the chance to lift the thing up. The moment my hand made contact with the little structure I felt some kind of jolt zip throughout my entire body. I only had a brief moment of shock before I found myself inexplicably snapping into unwilful unconsciousness.

---

Awareness suddenly whizzed through my brain and body like a bolt of electricity. I shot up into a seated position as my eyes flew open, instantly searching for any sign of a threat.

The sight I was met with was not immediately hostile, but it was unfamiliar, which was certainly alarming in and of itself.

Rather than being in my own bed at home, or even my bed back in my college apartment, I was in one which was completely foreign to me. It was a wooden four poster bed, complete with intricate carvings set into the headboard and footboard. Instead of being tucked under the sheets, I was laying atop the thick comforter made of an emerald green brocade.

The rest of the room appeared to be equally as extravagant and old fashioned. There was a heavy looking wooden vanity in the corner of the room, a pair of padded fabric armchairs, and an end table with a little glass lamp on top of it.

The lamp was not on, however. In fact the room was fairly dark, with the only illumination coming from the large rectangular window.

I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck. This place was completely strange to me, and I had no idea how I had gotten there. Had I been kidnapped? Had I passed out and been taken to some bizarre vintage style recovery room?

My breathing shallow, I forced myself to slide off the bed. There was a door to the left, maybe…maybe I would find my parents waiting just on the other side, ready to explain everything to me.

I took my first step, but that was as far as I got before the sound of booming voices assaulted my senses.

“Ah, you’re here bright and early I see.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Oh no worries, dear. I’ll be here running this little sale all day.”

I slapped my hands over my ears. Who was talking so damn loud? Were they on some kind of intercom speaker or something? Their voices felt like they were echoing all around me, it was surreal.

“Well good luck, and thank you again for this.”

“No problem at all, sweetie.”

An instant later, I was struck with yet another unforeseen phenomenon. The very structure around me lurched into motion, sending me tumbling backwards onto the bed. I scrambled to grab a hold of one of the bed’s four wooden columns, though I quickly realized how little good that would do me.

As my eyes darted around the room, I witnessed as pieces of furniture literally bounced an inch or two off the ground before returning to the floor with a resounding thump.

I had never been in an earthquake before, but something about this didn’t feel normal. They’d shown us footage in my freshman year geology class of earthquakes happening, and in every clip they showed, the shaking had appeared to be largely side-to-side. This was different, the motion felt distinctly bouncy—meaning holding onto the bed wouldn’t stop me from being thrown up into the air along with the piece of furniture.

With that thought in mind, I released my grip on the column and launched myself off the bed; however, I was at a loss for what to do next. I knew the best course of action in an earthquake was to get outside, but I didn’t even know what building I was in, nor was I even sure what I was experiencing was an earthquake at all.

When another tremor jolted through the floor and sent me stumbling forward, I made a snap decision and decided to shove myself into the doorframe with the door itself at my back. At least this way I could have some sort of support, and I didn’t have to worry about something hitting me from behind.

The quaking went on for another couple minutes, and as I remained stuffed in between the doorframe, I noticed the light that was streaming through the window would change from one moment to the next. One second the daylight would be shining in clearly, and undisrupted, the next it would disappear altogether, casting the entire room into darkness.

“What the hell is happening?” All of a sudden nothing seemed to make any sense! I was in a strange room, hearing disembodied voices, experiencing a bizarre earthquake, and now the sun itself appeared to be blinking in and out of existence!

As the incessant motion continued around me, I once again heard the sound of an incorporeal voice. “Hope I didn’t end up letting in a bunch of bugs.” The tone of the voice was so casual and unbothered, as though whoever it belonged to had no idea about what was happening. Was it some kind of recording or something?

An especially large tremor shook up the room. My palms were turning white from how hard I was pressing them against the wooden doorframe. A moment later I noticed the lighting shift once again. This time the color of the light seemed to change, almost taking on a whiter and more artificial shade. I had no idea what that meant.

I heard a loud grunting noise come from what sounded like above me, followed by yet another strong jolt through the structure around me. But then it was over, the shaking anyways. Suddenly everything had fallen still.

I remained frozen in place, afraid the quaking would pick back up any minute. It was then that I caught yet another unidentifiable sound. This time though it was repetitive thumps, not unlike footsteps. They started out loud, but quickly faded out into silence.

Now that I thought about it, I had been hearing those same thumps during the earthquake, I’d just been too preoccupied to take notice at the time.

“This had better be some really vivid dream,” I muttered to myself as I finally peeled myself away from the door.

Cautiously, I stepped further into the room, towards the window specifically. Before I left the room and explored the building, I needed to figure out where the building actually was.

I had made it to about the middle of the room when my ears once again picked up on the heavy thudding noise. This time it started off quiet and progressively got louder and louder.

“Now, let’s take a look.” The voice thundered around me as if it was filling every corner and crevice of the room.

My breath got caught in my throat as once again the light coming from the window was abruptly blotted out. I stared at that rectangular piece of glass, goosebumps prickling up along my arm. There was movement out there.

And then there it was—a giant, blinking, hazel eye peering in at me.

For the first time since waking up in this terrifying situation, I screamed.

#g/t writing #my writing #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t story #btw this story takes place in the 90s if I didn't make that clear enough

49 notes · View notes

little-mad · 2 years

Note

#17 “I’d invite you in, but you won’t fit in the house”

One Shot | Psych, not Sike

*Ting* *Ting* *Ting*

The sound from yet another clumsy set of fingers pounded against the thin glass barrier. It had been happening all day and was starting to give me a headache. I knew they couldn’t get to me, but what did I care? What if they did get me? It couldn’t be worse than being with the ones who returned me.

Sentient. That’s what we pets are. Sentient. Biological constructions who are fully aware and yet not autonomous – legal speak for able to function on our own and make decisions for ourselves. Five inch tall living dolls for the amusement of others.

When I was younger, I fought tooth and nail to be heard. I kicked and screamed and fought with every fiber of my being against my human host. I begged them to listen. I demanded to be heard. The girl who owned me before never listened and simply stuck me in what she called “solitary confinement,” which was a little more than her desk drawer with padding that made my voice muffled.

I stopped eventually. I don’t even remember when. I guess I just realized it was hopeless.

Humans would never listen to a pet unless we were cute, sweet, and did little tricks.

We weren’t human, despite every similarity in the book we had with one another.

*Ting* *Ting* *Ting* *Ting*

“Hey, what about this one? She’s cute,” says a girl with dark brown eyes and dark olive skin. She looks like me, but her hair hangs straight down in two low ponytails instead of frizzing out in impossible curls. She can’t be more than thirteen. A man, who I guess is her father, bends over and examines me.

I’m still amazed that the glass container I was in was still clean after all of those smudgy, grimy hands tapping on the front cover.

“No sweetie. This one is listless at best. You want a vibrant, active pet, yeah? One who will play with you?” he asks.

“Yeah!”

“Besides, this one is a little older. Let’s see what else they have.”

Older? I’m not that old. I just turned twenty-one… right?

They walked off.

Funny.

My heart didn’t even jump.

I wasn’t even scared.

Then again… how could I be? After everything that happened after my self-proclaimed owner left for college and gave me to her cousin, who gave me to her sister, who gave me to her boyfriend, how could I be afraid?

After what they did to me… After everything, I was now here at a pet shop waiting for my “second chance” to be adopted. Basically, a humane society for pets.

How long had I been here? Weeks? Months?

I don’t remember. I used to count the days, but not anymore. It’s not like I’ll be asked.

A shadow eclipses my container. For whatever reason, I look up.

Only now does my heart skip a beat. I’m met with a pale green and a pale blue eye. Two different colored eyes on the same face. They are behind thin, perfectly round glasses that perch on the bridge of his nose. Is he in his thirties? Maybe. His almost sickly pale features are thin, which match his slender body perfectly, so he could be older or younger.

He’s wearing a dark blue turtleneck and has keen eyes, like he can read my mind.

He doesn’t tap on the glass. He doesn’t make any kind of cooing sound. He doesn’t even smile. Instead, he simply nods twice, turns on his heel, and goes over to the counter where one of the attendees is standing.

I look at him for a moment. Something seems familiar about him. Through the warbled tone of the glass, I listen into their conversation. I wasn’t interested or curious. It was mostly out of sheer boredom and the fact they were the last humans in the store. The one behind the counter was looking at his phone as usual.

“Welcome to Second Chance, where we give pets a… oh… Hello doc. Didn’t recognize you,” said the pimply faced brat behind the counter. He shifted his weight from sitting, which is where he usually was, to standing.

Doc? Doctor?

I squirmed against the wall, remembering now where I had seen the guy before. I’ve seen him several times actually.

He was in here a couple of weeks ago – buying pets. If I remembered correctly, he bought four when he came through. One of them was older, right? Why was he back so soon? We have the same lifespans as humans, as far as I was aware.

“I just came from the office and thought I would stop by to see your collection,” he said. His voice was quiet and precise, cold and calculating. Scientist type. I wanted to stop listening, but there was nothing else for me to do.

“Well, that’s nice to hear. We don’t have much left. Just the one. The others are on hold,” said the boy behind the counter. He pointed at my cage.

The doctor casually glances over his shoulder at my cage, not even bothering to turn his shoulders in my direction. Figures. He looked back to the boy behind the counter.

“She’ll do,” he muttered. “I’ll need her records and physical examination papers.”

“She doesn’t have either. Surrendered pet. Last owner called her Sheila, but that’s all we have on the books,” said the boy behind the counter. I think bitterly to myself that “Sheila” isn’t my actual name, but it’s not like they would listen or care.

“I see. I’ll have to conduct one myself then. Please make the appropriate arrangements for transport. Do I have permission to retrieve?” asked the doctor.

“Sure thing doc. Getting a playmate for your other pets?” he asked.

“Something along those lines,” the doctor replied. He walked over swiftly to my container, pressed the appropriate code into the lock, and the glass separating me from the savage human world creaked open.

His hand rested on the entrance for several seconds before turning to reveal his palm. It’s like he was beckoning me forward. Well… fat chance. I stayed where I was and looked away to the dish of water in the corner of my cage. Was there any way I could tip that over and soak him?

No.

Not without consequences.

“Sheila,” he spoke quietly, but it didn’t warm his calculating and cold tone. “Come.”

I didn’t move. I wasn’t about to wander into the hands of my demise.

“She being difficult? If she is, I can do something about it,” called the cashier. I saw the doctor’s chest heave a sigh.

“Unnecessary,” called back the doctor before he looked back at me, crouching lower so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. “Apologies in advanced.”

His hand entered the cage. I knew how I wanted to react. I wanted to stand and move to the far corner of the cage. I wanted to kick and scream as I saw his looming digits approaching me. At the very least, I could’ve bit him once he had a grip on me.

I did nothing.

My heart skipped a few times, and my shoulders began shaking. This was what my life was reduced to – being man handled into complete numb complacency.

His fingers wrapped around my body. For a moment, I braced for the uncomfortable crushing and the sweltering heat that accompanied so many human hands I experienced in the past. I waited for my face to be pressed into his palm as he stood me up and readjusted so my head could peek out of his fist, pinning my arms to my sides and letting my legs dangle.

It didn’t happen that way.

Instead, his thumb and index finger slipped under my arms, allowing him to easily lift me up onto my feet. His hands were cold, but not clammy. What was more surprising is that his hand retracted a few inches away from me once he was sure I was standing. He glanced over his shoulders, like he’s making sure he wasn’t being watched, before looking back at me.

Then, just under his breath, I heard him say something that made my heart skip a beat like a stone skipped across the water.

“Please, don’t give up on me,” he said. Caught in his words, I looked past the slightly splayed digits beside me to his different colored eyes. There’s a moment, a fraction of a moment, where I thought I saw something more. He said something else, which sounded far too precise to be spontaneous. “Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, it is dear to me, and I will defend it. So, defend it.”

I looked into his eyes and could see no malice. I saw something else though, but I couldn’t place it. I was too focused on

I hated being held and especially disliked the idea of willingly subjecting myself to it, but if I didn’t comply, things would get bad for me quickly. I couldn’t move into his hand and, instead, nodded once to give him permission.

His hand reached around and pressed against me, ring and pinkie finger closing around my waist while leaving the top part of me exposed. Again, his grip was cool, like being exposed to a winter breeze. I let myself go limp and, before I knew it, I was slipped into a cardboard box with no windows and the paperwork was signed, sealed, and delivered to my new owner – Doctor Simon Talbot.

The drive wasn’t terribly long, but the whole way I could only hear his quiet, calculating voice saying the same phrase over and over. Please, don’t give up on me. Was it because he had something in mind to do to me? Or was it because he was taking pity on me like some kind of abused shelter animal.

Well…

Maybe that’s how he saw me…

The car comes to a stop and there is some jostling which I can’t see from inside my container. I hear the sound of jingling keys and the creek of a door opening. While I felt numb, my body trembled subtly, heart skipping every few beats.

I hear the doctor’s voice call out, “I’m home; and we have a new arrival. I’ll be in my office.”

Who was he talking to? Was… it a family? With kids?

A sinking feeling overtook my gut as the box I was in is carried from the front door and set down on something hard. The top of the box opened, and my world flipped as the box was tilted delicately on its side. Prone, I glanced past the opening to see a number of interesting scales and weights.

What kind of doctor was this guy?

I heard him outside walking around and shuffling things around. It sounded like he was getting together papers. There were a few beeps and what sounded like a few other voices asking to confirm appointments, but I couldn’t tell.

What I do know is that I had the perfect opportunity to run and hide behind a nearby cup of pens and I didn’t budge. All I could do was sit there, stumped by my own circumstantial frustration and lack of willingness to care. A few years ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance, but not now.

I will be found if I run. I’ll be punished if I try to hide. I’ll be eliminated if I’m too much to handle. I accepted it – whatever is going to happen will happen.

The moment evaporated the moment I heard him sit down. An arm appeared from the side of the box holding a pen. He scribbled something down on a stack of papers shoved under a clipboard clip the size of my body. He cleared his throat and started talking.

“Apologies for the given circumstances and for my handling you without complete consent. I ought to introduce myself if you’ll allow me. My name is Simon Talbot. Could I ask you your name?” I said nothing. What kind of ploy was this?

“Sheila was what the cashier said your name was, but I have a sneaking suspicious that isn’t the case. Is this correct?” he asked. I sighed and shook my head. What was he playing at? I heard him sigh and readjust, arm vanishing from view.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. There was something different about his voice now. It was warm, thoughtful. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I do ask that you listen though.”

“I don’t know you and I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I know you didn’t deserve it. None of you do. I don’t need to look at your paperwork to know you’ve been passed around from person to person because you didn’t try to fight my grip. I don’t need to examine you to know the humans you were with were abusive, keeping you on what they thought was a disciplined short leash but was actually psychological torment,” he paused to take a breath, and I was glad he did.

It felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything he was saying was true; but how could he know?

“They don’t know what I know. They haven’t tried. They haven’t tried to see you for what you are – people.”

I felt my jaw slacked and my insides flip. What was he saying? A spark ignited in me that I thought I lost years ago. Was this a tease? Maybe this was a test? Still, I realized a moment later that I had inched a little closer to the opening.

“If you’re willing to listen, I’d like to have a conversation with you – person to person,” said Simon. I felt absolutely swept away, questions starting to form. The headache throbbing in my temple raged for a moment, but I dared to take another step out, barely peering around the edge of the box to see Simon’s eyes.

The moment he saw me, a subtle, charming smile crept onto his face. The cold, calculating brow of this so-called doctor had melted away into a different image altogether. He was actually… almost charming.

It had to be a trick. There was no way. He was luring me. I ducked back into the box, heartrate tripling as I did. I knew I would suffer by retreating, but I needed to get away. I heard a disheartened sigh and crumpled to my knees. My body started shaking again.

“I see. One moment,” said Simon. I heard him get up and walk away.

I wanted to run out and tell him to stop – that I just needed a minute – but I didn’t get the chance. I hear a click on some kind of device on the desk that I can’t see before I hear Simon speak again.

“Boomer Skip? I need your assistance in my office.”

“For what? Look, you’re a big boy. I think you can…”

“I need you to give the spiel.” There is a momentary pause before this guy responded.

“Sure thing, sprout.” The use of names made me think family, and the voice sounded older. I thought about going out there and cooperating with him, but I stay shoved in the back of the box. I leaned back against the box.

A couple of minutes later, I heard a small click and a squeak. “You’d better need me for this one sprout. I was helping with the puzzles downstairs.”

“Sure thing Boomer. She’s the new arrival. Handle with care,” said Simon.

Handle? Oh gosh… I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Did he mean handle as in hold? Discipline? I pinch my eyes shut and grit my teeth, nausea threatening to wrack my body.

“Well, hello there darlin’,” said a voice which sounds much older, softer, than I thought a human voice should sound. The pounding in my ears almost made it impossible for me to hear the sound of footsteps approaching me. What?

I opened my eyes to see an elderly gentleman approaching me. It wasn’t his kindly eyes that fascinated me or the proper manner in which he was dressed, vest and all. It was the fact he was just like me – a pet. He had just stepped off of Simon’s hand and walked onto the desk toward the box.

“I understand you are having a difficult time, but allow me to reassure you that you are in good hands, metaphorically speaking of course,” smiled the older gentleman.

“You’re a…” the words left my mouth before I had a chance to stop them.

“Pet?” finished the elderly gentleman with a smile. He placed his hands behind his back and sauntered forward into the box until he was only an inch from me. “Yes, that I am; that is, if I were anywhere else but here. May I sit?”

I nodded numbly and watched as the older man struggle to sit on the ground beside me.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered as he sat down and leaned into the box for support. “So, as I was saying, I understand you are having a difficult time at the moment.”

“I… what…” I stopped short as I heard the elderly gentleman chuckle.

“Believe me, I couldn’t believe it either. Allow me to shed some light on the situation,” said the older gentleman. “Firstly, my name is Skip. You may call me Skip or Boomer or Boomer Skip. What’s your name?”

I hesitated. The look on my face must’ve told him everything he needed because he continued without hesitation.

“We can get to that in a moment,” he smiled. “Simon, the human out there, is a doctor. I know. We’ve all had our experiences with them, but Simon is a different kind of doctor – a psychologist. Specifically, he is a behavioral psychologist. Psychologists study a lot of different things, but what is really important about what he’s doing is drawing parallels between the behaviors of humans and pets.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“You… wait… you’re saying…”

“In short,” said Boomer Skip. “Simon is trying to prove how similar we are for long term legal adjustments; that we’re the same.” I wanted to leap for joy, and I might have if I didn’t see Simon’s hand come by the front of the box.

“Everything okay, Boomer?” asked Simon. The older pet grinned sassily at me before shaking his head.

“Of course. I can handle things here sprout,” Boomer called.

“So… he’s… trying to prove we’re the same as humans?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. “But…”

“I know you must have a lot of questions, but perhaps the others can help answer them,” grinned Boomer. “Care to come with me? I can get Simon to leave if that will make you more comfortable.”

“You can do that?” I ask, voice barely above a breath. My head throbs and swirls dangerously. “And what others? I don’t feel well.”

“Take a moment and breathe. I know it is a lot all at once. Believe me. You aren’t the only one. Let me ask Simon to leave. Do you need a water? Or would you rather have some tea back at the house?”

“Ho… house?” I exhaled slowly and let my head rest between my knees. “You’re talking like pets here are…”

“Free?” finished Boomer. “Because we are. We are free here. Simon makes sure of that. One moment, please.” He forced himself up and stepped beyond the edge of the box. “Sprout, would you mind stepping out of the room while I get our new arrival settled?” asked Boomer.

“Of course. Please offer my sincerest apologies again to our new guest. Dinner at seven thirty. Also, please let Forrest know it’s his turn to select the movie for the night,” said Simon. “Will you be needing tea?”

“Yes, if at all possible. I’d invite you in for tea, but you won’t fit in the house,” smiled Boomer. I watched the way he smiled up, undoubtedly looking at Simon. I admired the way he stood and spoke so freely to Simon. I heard a deep, thoughtful chuckle from the just outside the box.

I stood cautiously and approached the edge of the box, peering out just in time to see Simon stand at his dizzying height and start to walk away.

In that moment, that same fiery passion reignited just long enough to make me step out into the open and call out, making Boomer jump slightly and Simon stop dead in his tracks and turn his multi-colored eyes toward me.

“Simon!” I shouted. “Valentine.”

He turned around and looked me in the eye. Instinct, which was imbedded deep inside me, surged but I held firm for as long as I could as he spoke to me.

“Pardon?” he asked. I took a breath, giving Boomer a quick, unsure glance, before looking back to the doctor.

“Y… y-you asked my name. It… it’s not Sheila… it’s Valentine,” I said quickly, cursing for stuttering. He smiled at me, turning and nodding his head thoughtfully toward me.

“Well, pleasure to meet you, Valentine. I hope you and I will continue to converse; whenever you’re ready, of course. Until then.” Simon dipped his head again, like in some kind of reverent respect, before turning away and leaving the room, the image of his smile sketching itself into my memory.

“Valentine? Beautiful name. Shall we?” asked Boomer. I took a few seconds to process what was going on, but finally shook myself out of it. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I followed my fellow pet to the edge of the desk and along the trim to an opening in the wall. Wherever this was going, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the fire, even if it was just for a moment, was reignited.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

HUGE shoutout to @ratcatcher0325 for inspiring me with the world forged by pure imagination. Show some love to this astounding author!

Cheers and, as always, stay awesome! ~Narrans

#pet g/t stories can be iffy sometimes but this one does it well #g/t writing #g/t community

117 notes · View notes