#u know when they dig rocks n things out of their hooves

[holisticdogpark]

digging the brown spots out of avocado flesh feeling like a farrier

[sweetcatmintea]

A Stranger’s Solution

Here’s the second story that the flash fiction prompt inspired! A second continuation of the story I said was a one shot that would not be continued. <.<;; I hope you enjoy your time with the stranger and the kid! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Prompt: House of Stars

Words: 1431

Original story: here

First continuation: here

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          Three months in the nightmares start. I don’t know what triggered them. I doubt he does either. There’s been no word that we’re close to detection or anything like that. Fires, floods, goblin hordes. Like clockwork, I set him down to sleep, read whatever story he requests until he nods of, then I revel in the childless peace I’ve long since been without. An hour later and he’s calling for me, huddled in the corner of his bed. ‘There’s something in my closet!’ There isn’t. I check anyway. ‘It’s under the bed!’ There’s no room. I check anyway. ‘It’s tapping on the window!’ There’s only a branch. I pull the curtains shut. A thousand ghosts send him crawling into my bed for safe haven until the morning can rescue him. It’s hard. I want to yell at him. Tell him there’s nothing there and to sleep in his own bed. Children are uncomfortable to sleep with at the best of times, but most don’t have nubby horns that dig into your armpit or leathery wings slapping you awake the moment you manage to drift off. I want to tell him he’s old enough to sleep alone. But, at the same time, I was him once. Paralysed the instant the lights went out. Now, nothing irks me quite like an unnecessary light blasting through the darkness. Probably a work thing. Maybe it’s just more peaceful under the moon’s illumination? It doesn’t matter. I’m getting off track. After five nightly interruptions in a row, I’m at my wits end. Whether it likes it or not, I’m solving this problem. Now.

          I boot up the old car, wait for it to sputter to life, and leave. I’ll have to get under the hood later and quiet her down again. Motor coughing isn’t exactly inconspicuous. The kid’s fine. He’s got enough building bricks to keep him entertained until I get back. There’s a particular shop I’m looking for. When I was young, my grandmother did something for me to give me courage in the dark. Maybe it’ll work for him. At this rate, I’m willing to try just about anything.

          ~~~

          An hour later, I toss the purchase onto the dented wooden dining table. “Super Ninja Man, come help me with this.” ‘Kay’ and scrambling, then he’s at my side.

          “We’re putting these stars up. I’m going to teach you about the constellations.”

          He plucks one of the plastic packets from the mountain of clones, holding it up to his face, scrutinizing the yellowish shapes. Inspection over, the tufted end of his tail quivers slightly. Excitement. “Do these glow in the dark?”

          I think this’ll work. “Yep.” They’ve been hexed to glow regardless of prior exposure. If you’re gonna do something, and all that.

          “There are lots of them.” He smooths the mountain, spreading the packets across the table.

          “I told you. We’re making constellations. They take a lot of stars. Do you remember where the step ladder is? Good. Go grab it for me. If it’s too heavy, don’t try to carry it, just let me know.”

          He races off. I scan through the book I bought. Although I could recognise most of the major clusters and know a good chunk of the stories, I want to do this properly. I’m not raising an idiot.

          There’s some scuffling and clattering as he returns, eager to start. I decide not to mention the number of times I heard him drop the ladder. He’s pretty proud of himself and it’s not like I leave anything breakable at child height. I’m not a moron. I hand him the book as we head to the hallway. It’s a good a place as any to start.

          “Do you know any of the stories about the stars?”

          He shakes his head. From scratch then.

          “Okay. So basically, there are stories about each constellation and some people thing that they’re the uh, embodiment, I guess, of different gods. There’s a star for every person wh-” a quick amendment at his fallen face, “every person and animal, who passed away. They go and live back with the god who looked after them the most.” I begin tacking stars to the ceiling. He holds onto my calve, an attempt to keep me steady. It’s disgustingly cute. He has as serious an expression as a kid can muster.

          “Uh, souls are mostly made up of stardust already because everyone and everything came from the same place.” Or something. It’s always been a bit convoluted for me.

          “Like the big bang?”

          “Sure. Sounds right. So yeah, different constellations are different gods. They all look after different things and have their own responsibilities. Sometimes they work together and sometimes they don’t. This one here,” I nod to the half-formed constellation taking shape above us, “is Fernweh. They are god of safe travel and rest. It’s supposed to look kind of like a bison? See, these stars mark out their hooves, and these little ones are their horns. Their face is here(ish).”

          “It looks like a turtle with pigtails to me…” He tilts his head, trying to see what I see.

          “The book outlines it better. Whatever works for you is fine though. Fernweh will look over you when you need to get some water or something at night. They will keep you safe on your trip. That’s their job.”

          “Does that mean I can do stuff when you’re asleep?”

          “Absolutely not. Your bed time is the same. They’re for if you’re thirsty, or whatever.”

          “Laaame.”

          “That’s life, buddy.”

          ~~~

          We go through the house, attaching replica gods wherever we think they’ll fit. Pateis, guardian of harvested food, was stuck above the fridge. Nes, the god of magic, majic? … Maejyk? The hex god. They watch over my grandmother’s ancient bookcase. One at a time, my house is filled with stars.

          About half and hour through, the kid asks if I believe in all this. It’s hard to say exactly. I don’t not believe in it, but I’m not a devout follower either. I take him to the herb pantry, where we’ve affixed Haerfest, god of growth and plants. There is a star there that is not in the book. He noticed when I put it up but didn’t say anything. I think he’s waiting for me to finish to point out the mistake. Cheeky brat.

          “When my grandmother passed away, I was very…”

          “Sad?”

          “… yeah. I was very sad. I felt like I had lost her forever, which made me feel lost as well.”

          “You really loved your Gammy, hey?”

          “Yeah, I did. I still do, even though she’s not here now. This star here? I like to think this one is Gran. She’s helping Haerfest with everyone’s gardens. So, I don’t know if these stories are true, but I like to believe that’s were our loved ones go when they leave.”

          He’s quiet, thoughtful, for a moment. It’s a big topic for his little brain to process. “Yep. I think your Grammy is a star now too. She’s how come you can grow stuff, because the books say you need lots of help.”

          Hey. I tussle his hair, swiping it over his eyes. “That’s enough talking back to work.”

          ~~~

          We save his room for last. Mostly to give him a chance to look through the guidebook and decide on his guardian. I suggest Labai, goddess of children and vengeance. She’s represented by a lion from the elemental fire nebula, guarding the world’s children. She nurtures then and helps them grow safely with the fierce fighting spirit of a true mother. She is a force to be reckoned with. That should be comforting if he wakes up from a nightmare. To my surprise, he rejects the idea, opting instead for a smaller subset of Labai’s domain. Estracynn, minor god of intervention and kindness. According to the book, they enable and protect necessary interventions in the pursuit of kindness. Some of these are incredibly specific. Probably why there’s so many of them. I shoot the kid a quizzical look. Why them over Labai? He gives an embarrassed wiggle. I raise a brow.

          “Well, I think, Extrasing is a bit of a lot like you, so I think that’s a good choice for my room… They won’t let the monsters get me…”

          Welp, there goes my heart. Disgustingly cute. I let him place the stars himself, lifting him so he can reach. My arms are going to hate me tomorrow. But, if, just this once, I’m honest, I think that’s an easy payment for his smile.

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