Jump to content
LL Medico Diapers and More Bambino Diapers - ABDL Diaper Store

From This Day Forth (Chapter 8: With Little Fierceness - 20.12.2017)


Recommended Posts

Alright, this wild beast of a story I started to write over a year ago, but I haven't finished as much of it as I would've liked. Still, I'm gonna post what I have over the coming days. It's a little story about a woman, a wish-fulfilment app, and how one chance for greatness can bring out both the worst and the best in us. Enjoy.

 

From This Day Forth
by Frostwyrm
Part 1
Leslie Audet Is A Wishmaker


Chapter 1
Wishmaker


It was a few minutes before 6 AM and Leslie Audet could feel that it was just another cold november morning. The windows to her apartment were closed, but she was positive that it was frosty even in here. She groaned, still half-asleep, and tried to bury her head beneath the sheets. It was slightly warmer, but not by that much of a margin. She needed new sheets, some which actually did their job during this most joyous of seasons. The woman knew that, but also knew that she wouldn't get to buy any this month or the next, or probably ever. Unless she got a raise, which was of course doubtful.

She stayed beneath the sheets, closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep again. It was something she'd done quite often in her college days, where she'd managed to get more sleep when at any other time in her life. Those days were over, as her alarm clock decided to remind her. Its horrible noise shattered the peace of mind she established and made the woman jump up and storm across the floor, every step a painful reminder of how cold it was in here. She slammed her hand down on the damn thing and then there was only silence.

Leslie remained there for a moment. The city's lights managed to penetrate those old curtains of hers with ease and covered her bedroom in a dim luminescence. It was, like the rest of her apartment, entirely unremarkable. An unremarkable wardrobe, an unremarkable cabinet, and an unremarkable bed with slightly stained sheets. Leslie would have lied if she said she liked how it looked.

A noise came from above, she heard the ceiling creak as someone moved. She heard a loud voice, screaming obscenities, which was soon added by more voices complaining about the rising noise levels. Leslie let out a sigh as she stared down on her alarm clock. The worst part about sunday mornings was always when it woke up the guy above her, as he was one of those cholerics who went into a frenzy whenever anything happened. Leslie hated that guy as much as this apartment, but after five years of this, it was pretty much a part of her routine.

As the complaining died down and everybody presumably receded to their beds again, Leslie, with another sigh, went for the door and into the biggest room of her apartment. Flipping on the light switch, she casually glanced over an unremarkable couch, an unremarkable table and unremarkable boxes piling up along the wall. Ignoring it all, she went straight for the bathroom and used the chance to glance directly into the mirror.

"Still a gorgeous baby girl," Leslie remarked through clenched teeth.

Needless to say, she hated how she looked. It wasn't the fact that she was thirty-nine or that her red hair decided that now was the right time to start getting grey. It wasn't that she was particularly unhappy with those small breasts that pushed against the fabric of her nightdress, nor the wrinkles, which looked like they were becoming more and more prominent, day after day. Neither was it her many freckles. No, it was the nightdress itself. A cute, pink thing with frills and her name stitched onto the right breast. She'd gotten it for a discount after befriending a skilled tailor in university, but that had been more than a decade ago.

She hated looking at herself, a woman that looked almost too eager to grow old, in clothing that made her feel so childish. Leslie sighed and proceeded to lift the dress up, so that her underwear became visible. She stared at it for a moment. The legs truly didn't belong to a young girl anymore and the diaper almost looked like it fit perfectly to her new, granny-sort of look.

Another sigh escaped her as she let the dress fall. At least her continence was still in tact, as her bladder made itself noticed rather quickly, but she didn't care about the pressure and just let herself go in the diaper. It was a process she was used to, by this point, but standing in the mirror, knowing the diaper was getting soaked beneath that frilly dress, it actually brought a smile on her face.

"Still a gorgeous baby girl," Leslie told herself with a bit more confidence.

She couldn't be a real child, so she'd have to settle for dressing like one. How old she got didn't matter, Leslie told herself and turned to walk away from the bathroom. She turned the light off behind her and quietly walked into her living room, seating herself on the couch and staring at the TV monitor and the console below. Five games remained, the rest of her once so vast collection she'd pawned off.

This room looked dull, too, so Leslie decided to kick back and just stared at the ceiling. The slight crinkle of the diaper was her only respite, as every sunday morning. She missed having a computer, but the internet wasn't for her, not after Clara had messed her life up in a most ridiculous manner. Well, it hadn't exactly been Clara's fault. Forming friendships at work was different than at college and Leslie had been far too idealistic concerning that horrible woman.

Time crawled along in the slowest pace imaginable and the artificial illumination gave way for the natural light of the sun. Leslie, as always, only barely noticed, as she never bothered to move her curtains. The woman in the apartment on the opposite side of the road was a rather prominent person in the district. While it was clear that she suffered from some sort of mental illness, she was apparently deemed safe enough to live on her own. So she took to stalking people or staring at them from her apartment window. Leslie had made the mistake of befriending her five years ago, much like she had tried to do with everyone back then.

The results had left her with a distrust towards law enforcement and a rather jaded opinion of lawyers.

Her grumbling stomach ripped Leslie away from her thoughts. She was thankful for the timely intervention of her body, lest she'd go down another bad road and rose up immediately, only to be interrupted by the ringtone of her mobile phone. She turned to the door, where her jacket hang and hurried over there, picking up her phone from a pocket.

The number spelled out on it belonged to a friend of hers, one who only ever called these days to whine about her life.

Another sigh escaped Leslie as she pressed a button and answered the phone. "Heya, Annie," she said with as little enthusiasm as possible.

She expected to hear the noise of someone crying, some gurgle of meaningless words crashing against her delicate eardrums, but none of that was found. "Yo, Leslie, you wanna meet up today?"

The voice sounded both happy and sober, two states of mind Leslie thought impossible to coexist within Annie at this point, so she just remained silent for a second too long.

"You still there?"

She shook her head. "Wha? Yeah, of course I'm still here. You sound lively, did something happen?"

"I'll tell you when you get over here," the voice said over the phone.

Leslie rolled her eyes but looked around her home. She didn't really feel like spending the rest of her sunday in this rotten place. "Sure," she answered, trying for a smile.

"Cool, when can I expect you?"

"Somewhere around ten, if that's alright with you."

"Sure. Do hurry up, though. Weatherman said there's gonna be heavy snowfall today."

"Kay, bye," Leslie answered and closed the call before Annie could answer.

She remained standing for a moment more, feeling the padding press against her legs and her bottom, so soft and comfortable. Considering she only just wet it, she wondered whether she could keep it on and just get some pants, but decided against it. She went into the bathroom once more, took off the diaper, rolled it up and threw it into the bin she kept for them. After that she wiped her privates with some toilet paper.

It took her about half-an-hour more to put on makeup and dress herself but forewent breakfast, as she did almost every single day. Today she opted for unremarkable pants, a sweater and the thickest jacket she had. Then she got her scarf, a woolen hat and mittens.

Everything was ready and then she went out into the stairway. The floors looked as rustic as the apartments, yet it seemed more of a charm point here than inside. She ignored it, told herself that it was just her home being horrible and then locked the door.

As she walked down she saw the landlord by the door. He was an arab-looking man in his mid-thirties, who was slightly overweight, sharply dressed and had one of those large beards which had gotten trendy at some point or another. Leslie put on her best smile as she walked down the stairs.

"Hello, Asad," she said, keeping to the first name basis they'd established over the years.

"Morning, Leslie," he said, not even looking at her, as he checked his mail. "I've gotten complaints about your alarm clock, again. Most people want to sleep in on sundays, so could you make my life easier and do the same?"

She halted in her tracks as he said that, felt a shiver run down her spine. For some weird reason, people telling her off made her feel almost a child again, mischevious and small. But Asad was like the rest of the world and he wasn't part of her littlespace. Of course, she knew that there were complaints, since the house was pretty clairaudient. So, Leslie nodded. "I'll turn it off on sundays, then. That should get everybody off your back."

He looked at her with a soft smile. Once, Leslie had considered him attractive, but that had been before he'd grown himself that horrid beard. "Thanks, Leslie," he said, before he turned his eyes back to the letters.

And with that she vanished out into the open city.

The district she lived in was worn-down, dirty, but at least wasn't filled with as many criminals as one might expect. There were some people Leslie would've described as ill of mind, at least one drug dealer and she was also certain that the boss of the chinese restaurant was involved with the mafia, but that was everybody she could think of. Yes, this district might be among the worst in the city, but she could still tolerate it. The worst part living here was the weather anyway.

If it wasn't raining, it was cloudy and if it wasn't cloudy, there was fog. Even today the sky was colored in a grim grey-ish tone that would soon give way to snow. Honestly, she wasn't sure how happy she should be about this, but decided to not care. Instead, she walked along the streets of her home and watched how the city came more and more to life as she walked out of that broken down district.

There weren't that many people on their way, so she was happy to take the subway to her friend's place. Some personnel checked the tickets, some homeless lady tried to sell her a paper she didn't want to buy and, of course, some creepy guy in a long coat leered at her. At least he got out a station before her, so that was a plus point.

Annie lived ten stations away from Leslie, on the edge of the city, where the air smelled of salt and the rushing of waves could be heard in the distance. It was a green place during the summers, with lots of trees by the wayside, expensive hotels and shops. The residents had said it was a victim of gentrification, rent spiked, many people from five years ago were gone. Leslie knew that the few people who spent their lives here were either already looking for a new home or trying to fight a hopeless fight against the new city the politicians were creating. Of course, Annie was neither of those.

Annie lived close to the daycare where she used to work, before she had her emotional breakdown. Paranoia, drug addiction, anancasms, it had all sent her down a steep cliff. Nowadays, the woman kept to herself, spent her days hiding away, drinking booze, crying how miserable her life was and failing to get proper treatment for her mental illnesses. Once upon a time, Leslie had liked her, but as she approached the house Annie lived in, she couldn't help but feel the want to turn right back around.

She rang the doorbell, which was answered by a ring of the door, signalling her to open it. Inside, the house was of a much better quality than her place. The ceiling didn't look cracked, the stairs were freshly painted, the smell of chemicals was in the air as the housekeeper had clearly gone over the floor recently.

Annie lived on the third floor, where she occupied a two room apartment much like Leslie's, except, of course, much better decorated. And more filled with trash last she checked in. Annie had become sort of a hoarder ever since she started to fear her neighbours. Leslie prepared herself for a horrid smell to drift into her nostrils, but as the door opened, she was greeted by the soft smell of scented candles and a warm smile by her friend.

"Leslie," Annie said and put her arms around the other woman. "You came!"

"Yeah, of course I did," she answered, awkwardly putting her arms around Annie's back.

The other woman loosened her grip. "Come in. Come in," she said and gestured for Leslie to follow her. So she did, closing the door behind her.

Annie Sherman was a grotesquely fat woman of fifty years with a pig nose and hair she dyed a different color every month. This time it was a shade of red mixed in with streaks of blue. Leslie thought it looked ugly, but admitted to herself that she was just worried that there would be less grey in Annie's hair than her own. Annie also managed to dress in unflattering clothing, but Leslie knew that she'd simply stopped caring at one point or another.

They walked into the woman's living room, which reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, though there were some trash bags scattered across the floor. Old food was rotting away on the table, right beside a fresh bag of potato chips. She spotted four candles burning behind them, all vanilla scented and the windows were open, too. Still, the different odors mixed together in a sickly sweet smell. Leslie hated it immediately.

"So, you're still the same, huh?" She asked, kicking a trash bag that lay in her way.

Annie cleaned some magazines off the couch and gestured Leslie to sit down, though she herself only moved away after putting the magazines down the couch again and lifting them up again. She did that four times and finally receded to the wall by the window. "Yeah," she said with an awkward smile. "I got in touch with another doc, though. So I hope that goes well."

Leslie shrugged and finally settled down, looking at the old food. She wasn't sure what it was, but once upon a time, probably a soup. She looked at it and then couldn't bear it anymore, taking it and walking into Annie's kitchen. Her friend quietly watched, as if she was trying evaluate what was happening. Leslie figured it some new fear, some new compulsion and didn't really care. She cleaned the bowl with her hands, since Annie had no dishwasher.

The fat woman walked up to the kitchen door, still looking at her. "You don't need to do that, you know?"

Once more, Leslie shrugged. "I like work, helps me not think about my own shit."

Annie folded her arms and leaned against the door, it creaked ever so slightly. "Still trouble with that Clara woman?"

"Everybody started ignoring me ever since the new boss showed up. He cares about how we treat each other, mostly because he doesn't want any drama at work. Clara just tries to be subtle about it, as always and when he's not there … I guess I should find a new job."

"You've been saying that for two years now," Annie said, her gaze piercing through Leslie.

She smiled at that. Leslie didn't intend to get another job. She'd considered suicide more seriously than that. It wasn't just moving away from the city. She had no coin, no family, no idea how to even start a new life somewhere else. Somewhere along the line, she'd lost the spunk of her youth and just wanted to remain in an endless cycle of daily work. That was the adult thing to do, after all.

"I'm just complaining, it's not really as bad as I make it out to be," Leslie said, water flowing through her finger, an empty smile on her lips.

"Rick said Clara's a high functioning sociopath, your co-workers are all sheep and your boss is blind to anything that doesn't concern whatever your company does," Annie said.

Rick was another man she knew, an old love that remained at least a steady friendship. He was also far too open about other people's problems, which left Leslie exasperated. "She's not a sociopath, my co-workers got their own lives to deal with and my boss cares about the company. Rick just knows what I told him at my worst, seriously. Don't take his word over mine. Can we talk about something else now?"

Annie shrugged. "I just wanted to make conversation, geeze."

Then make it without digging into open wounds, you idiot, Leslie thought, rolling her eyes. Thinking of another topic was hard. Of course, she could've complained to Annie about Annie, but that seemed hardly appropriate. So she just quietly finished up with the bowl, before she went back to the couch in the living room and sat down.

"What did you want to talk about anyway?"

"Actually," Annie said and went for her pockets, took out her mobile phone. "I wanted to talk to you about something that might interest you."

She sat down beside Leslie, typing wildly on her phone. Her fingers were thick and clumsy, how she managed to work a phone with them was far beyond Leslie. Either way, she was happy that this wasn't going to end up in a whine-a-thon like almost every other meeting they had these days. At least, she thought so at first, but then she noticed how Annie clicked her tongue while she typed, a clear sign that she just got caught up in another compulsion. Leslie looked at her, impatiently drumming her fingers on her knees.

The only thing that made her stay now was that she didn't want to go home. Now that people were awake, she knew that the sounds would be unbearable. She hated it and Asad wasn't helping, since he only ever talked about the noises she made, all while dismissing her own complaints.

"Is the price of this place still good?"

"My landlord spent the last two months raising the rent. It's still affordable, but not for much longer, why?"

"Because I hate my place," Leslie answered truthfully.

"I don't think you want to live together with me. I know I'm wearing you out."

"You already did," Leslie said and gave her friend a smile to take the edge off her words.

It worked, it always did, as Annie gave her a small smile back. "Are you searching for a new place?"

"Not in earnest. I've got the cheapest apartment in the city, or close to it anyway, and my job won't pay enough for a bigger one."

Annie nodded. "Maybe you should look for another one. You're smart, I'm sure you find something."

She sighed. "I'm working for a company that spent the past few years growing. Everyday I'm expecting a raise, since everybody knows how much I'm helping out with everything."

"Those are just excuses, though."

Leslie let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe, maybe not. I won't stake my whole livelihood on the off chance that I might find better work, though."

Annie's fingers danced across the phone and the woman exhaled loudly, shaking her head. "You're just wasting away, though."

That much was true, Leslie had to admit, but in the same vain, she simply shrugged. "We all do."

Annie's eyes fell and she looked at the phone for a solid minute. The quiet was welcome, since Leslie could take the chance to not think about her life, but rather something, anything else. They only got older and with every year that passed, Leslie wanted to think about what she'd done until now less and less. In a way, she knew that Annie felt the same way, but she blamed it on her illnesses, that she'd lived happily before. Maybe it was true, maybe not. Leslie couldn't find an answer.

"I've got it, take a look."

Leslie leaned over to catch a glimpse at whatever it was that Annie offered her. A website, with a simple blue design and in its middle was a window where one could type their name. She raised an eyebrow, "So you found a shady website on the internet? Color me impressed," she said sarcastically.

"No, sheesh. Rick told me about it. It's a weird site. You type in your name and then it just asks a few questions."

"Still sounds shady, though."

Leslie looked at her friend who handed her the phone. "Try typing in your name. You'll see what I mean with weird."

The woman sighed and did as she was told. Leslie Audet, she typed and suddenly a question flashed up before her.

Do You Want Your Wishes To Come True?

She stared at the window for a moment. Should she ask Annie, or just answer the question? A shiver ran down her spine, like bug crawling down and covering her in ice, and as it went, she stopped wondering and just started typing her answer. She hit Enter and then looked at the phone as the site vanished and gave way to Annie's social network profile, where the mother texted her daughter rather viciously. Leslie ignored it and looked at Annie.

"The fuck was that?"

Annie shrugged. "Rick told me about it, it seemed fun, so I shared it with you."

Yet Leslie couldn't quite follow that train of thoughts. "It was just a question. I don't even know what just happened with it. Who programs a site to ask a dumb question? Are they trying to be ominous?"

"It's more like a game. You get a message later on where they explain the rules. It's creepy at first, but you get used to the questions. I wanted to tell you because the messages indicate that some big event is happening on monday."

The vagueness of those sentences made Leslie weary. "Why would you want to share a game with me?"

Annie offered her a sad smile. "You'll see. It asks you if you have a wish, a desire you want to have fulfilled. I said that I want to leave my fears behind. I want to walk the outside world again, get back to work and life and everything I left behind. It said that on monday, I would find myself in a world where my wishes would come true. I don't think it's true, but a part of me does. I don't know, but I thought, considering how much you've been there for me the past few years, it might be some fun for you, too."

She felt her head hurting and rubbed her temples. "Really? You called me over for this dumb shit?"

Leslie shook her head and gave the phone back to her friend. "You do know I've got better things to do, right?"

"Leslie, I–"

Leslie rose up. "Stuff, Annie. I've got stuff to do!"

Before her friend could answer, she went for the door, happy that she kept the coat and shoes on. She closed the door without even saying goodbye and left the house without further notice. Outside, snow was falling and she stared up at the sky. Countless snowflakes fell down from the sky and Leslie could only hope that it wouldn't end up like last winter. She hated to go to work through ice and snow. Either way, the sunday was hers now and she still needed to stay away from her home. And Annie, too, since this was pretty much the biggest waste of time she'd ever sent Leslie on.

The question from the site still lingered on her mind, though, and she reached for her own. It was a prize she'd gotten from Rick last christmas, one of the few gifts she could truly use. She turned it on and found it ringing with a message, though it came from noone she knew.

If You Want That Wish To Come True, Just Hit Enter.

She stared for a moment, then looked back at Annie's apartment. There was a second part to this? Leslie groaned, but hit enter nonetheless. If it was a virus, she didn't care. There was no vital information on that phone and she could do well without the ability of getting calls.

Instead of a virus, she received another message, however.

To Write Out One True Desire Is All It Needs To Set You On The Path Where All Your Wishes Come True:

There was an empty box beneath the message for her to write in, she looked at it and then up at the sky again. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, so as she started to walk back to the train station she started to think on her answer.

She didn't think it was true, either. Of course she didn't think that. The city was dull and grey and boring, but it was her life and she knew that there was no more way to change it. She'd robbed herself of that hope. Her legs were hurting, there was an aching to her back and she felt a hundred years older than she was.

On whim, she decided to answer. "To have a young body again."

But she didn't hit enter, instead let the answer stand there. Leslie stopped in her walk, wondered how a world might look where this might work, where this would send her to a younger body. What would she even do with it? What sort did she want?

She'd read some stories about alternate dimensions, about regressing into a younger body. It was a fantasy she liked, something she loved to happen to her. Half-heartedly she also remembered some roleplaying she'd done in the past, the ages her characters had been. Always children, innocent and unspoiled by the rotten world.

"To have a body of ten years again," she corrected the writing and sent the message to wherever.

Then she put the phone away again, sighing heavily. Monday morning, 6 AM was when her long road to death continued and in truth, wishful thinking wouldn't be of any help then. Knowing that, she decided to take the train to the very last station, where she could at least take a walk and enjoy some unspoiled nature.

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Chapter 2
Hopes And Dreams


She regretted her decision to come out here. It was already past noon and her foregoing breakfast turned out to be one of the worst decisions of this day, aside from every other she'd made. Of course, Leslie knew that going out on a sunday was idiotic in and of itself, but to do it without any food in the stomach bordered on insanity. Still, she pressed on.

By the time she'd gotten off the train her stomach was roaring and as she made her way past the houses of more people who were richer than her, she found that the only respite she got was from the falling snow. As she was completely alone on the road, she took to making snowballs and throwing them as far as she could, just to see how far her reach went. It was very far, but just being able to play for a bit filled her with an ember of happiness. Leslie held that inner child of hers back, that inner she that wanted to come out and play.

Shutting away the self that wanted to fool around, Leslie continued on in silence. As she reached the final house, she chose to turn around and have a look at this place she called home, an ever-growing city bordering on the vast ocean. Tall skyscrapers rose up in the center, she even spotted the one belonging to her company. They were a trading business, though Leslie had the horrible luck of working in a department that was just there to crunch numbers. It was a miserable thought, because she was the one cog that the company could do without and she figured that the only reason she was still allowed to work there was by the grace of the chief himself.

Beyond the town spread out a vast conifer forest, the pride of the region, and she decided to enter it in hopes that would make the thoughts of work and home go away. They sort of did as the evergreen trees wrapped themselves around the old paths that led through the forest. A thick web of branches darkened the woods and she saw not a single person on the path she treaded on.

Here, nobody cared about the falling snow and it already lay in a thick layer, almost drowning her feet. She regretted her choice of not taking any gloves with her, so instead she buried her hands deep in her pockets. While Leslie was used to the cold, she wasn't fond of the idea of frostburn.

Neither was her body fond of her continuous walking, as her stomach made itself heard through the quiet of the woods. Aside from the crunching sound the snow made beneath her shoes, there was hardly any noise. There was no wind, no people, just her and hunger walking down a lonely path.

She grumbled, walked onwards with her teeth clenched, until she spotted a crossroads ahead of her, where light pierced through the clouds and the branches. There, she found someone else walking down another path, a figure she knew. She halted as they turned to look at her and then they halted too.

"Rick?" she asked with a loud, clear voice, her breath turning to a cloud of smoke before her eyes.

"Les?" He asked back with disbelief. "Since when do you take sunday walks?"

"I don't know," she answered, half-wanting to smile, and started moving towards him. "Since when do you take your walks through the damn woods?"

Rick Goldschmied was a dark-skinned man in his mid-thirties, tall, scrawny, with a crooked nose and an easy smile on his thick lips. He wore a black hat to cover his bald dome of a head, while his body was wrapped up in a long, woolen coat. As she approached he walked towards her and stretched his hand out. She saw that he wore black woolen gloves and grumbled quietly in response to his weather appropriate clothing.

She took his hand and shook it as quickly as she could manage before allowing her hand to retreat back into the warm sanctuary that was her right pocket. Leslie tried to look friendly, but she really didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

"It's been too long," he said, his grey eyes fixated on her. There was laughter in them too. "We haven't heard of each other for a few months at least."

She nodded. "Yeah, work keeps me busy and I tried to cut back on social contacts. I found that they drive me to drink a lot more than I really like." It was an obvious cut, but after Annie, she didn't want to deal with another friend of hers.

Judging from his smile, she was too subtle for him. "Come on, we're not that bad," he said, trying to make it sound like a self-depreciating joke. She sniggered half-heartedly in response.

"Last time we were out together I was so shit-faced the fucking barkeep had to throw me out. I don't know what I said or did, but he can't stand the sight of me anymore."

Rick looked at her slightly uncomfortable, and for a moment she thought he'd finally shed some light on the night she was talking about, but then realized that it was just her language. As much as he liked the sound of his own voice, swear words weren't for Rick.

For her however, they were one of the few leftovers from her childhood and all she remembered from her father was his unending swearing. Nevertheless, she decided to use this chance to change the topic, if they were going to talk, it wouldn't be about herself.

"But really, why're you in the woods?"

"I assume for the same reason you are," he answered and looked at the path from whence she came, "I needed a breath of fresh air and this is pretty much the only place for that."

"We have a park near the center, though," she stated matter-of-factly, wondering why she hadn't gone there.

"I don't like it that much. Too many parents with their children, too many teenagers and too many other people. When I want to take a walk, I don't want to meet half the city, you know what I mean?"

She did, and that finally managed to bring a smile to her face. He was the only one who ever managed to lighten her mood like that. It was one of the reasons why they had started dating some four years ago and it was the reason they were still friends. It was easy to continue to walk with some company now.

They started to walk together, he offered her a bit of chocolate when he heard her stomach rile up again, and thereafter the both of them talked about how their lives went. Or rather, Leslie checked up on his without saying a word about her own. Rick still was a cashier in one supermarket and then another. Sometimes he worked in a car wash, other times for a restaurant. He was drifting through life without purpose, and admitted that much, but he seemed happy with his lot. Even his eyes smiled at her through his tellings. It made her feel just strangely uncomfortable.

The snow never stopped falling and after a while Leslie figured that she could as well use this chance to discuss something more important with him.

"Rick," she said grimly, "You talked with Annie about Carla."

Of course, he just sighed. "Well, after the both of us broke up she did force herself into my life. You have to excuse me for thinking she completely bonkers."

Leslie rubbed her temples at that. It was an excuse just like him and she immediately regretted bringing the topic up. Nevertheless, now it was done and she needed to finish it.

"Well, call the cops on her if she messes with you. Annie's got her own shit to deal with and I don't like the idea of her also getting all up in mine."

He hesitated for a second. "Can you ever not talk in such profanities?"

Leslie shrugged. "Make me."

He turned around to have a look at whether anyone else was on the path, but found it empty. For a moment, Leslie wondered why, but then he sidestepped and suddenly his fingers were beneath her jacket, tickling her sides.

"Woah," and "Shit!" were all the words she could offer before she erupted in laughter and tried to wiggle herself free.

Rick stood much taller than she was, but he wasn't all that strong, so she managed to free herself quickly, went down for the snow and threw some at his face. "Have at thee!" she said, feeling her left knee ache.

"You want it? You got it!"

Leslie found herself Little rejoicing as they had themselves a good old-fashioned snowball battle in the heart of the forest, though it didn't last very long. Leslie found herself realizing pretty quickly that not working out in any shape or form finally took its toll and just after a few minutes of throwing snow and running around, they were standing on the path again, breathing heavily.

"Why did we do that?" Leslie asked, knowing the exact answer.

"It's fine to have a bit of fun, you've grown way too bitter," Rick answered, his teeth flashing in a bright smile.

She felt her knee hurt worse now and how her muscles ached from the exhaustion. Her body was too eager to grow old, she knew, but her mind urged her to keep on playing, to keep on running. It was a bitter taste and it would only grow worse as the years continued, she was sure of it.

"Yeah, sure. Sports ruined my joints, though."

It was half a lie. While she was playing sports back in university, her left knee had gone bad due to all the heavy lifting she'd done during her first years at work. It was a reminder that people as open-minded as Rick were a rarity.

"Is it that bad?"

She grimaced. "I'm growing old, Rick."

He knew her feelings about old age and his opinions on the matter differed quite from hers. Of course they did, he was a guy, he wasn't slave to his looks. None of them ever were. Well, not really, she knew that, but thirty-nine, in her head, was old for a woman.

"Well, you just need to accept that your body may wane but your heart remains the same. You really are far too pessimistic on that end." He snipped with his fingers. "Which gets me to think, did Annie tell you about a site I showed her?"

"She told me. I answered their dumb questions, too," she answered coldly, not sure what he was getting at.

He gave her a smile. "That's surprising. I hadn't thought she would give the address to anyone." He sounded more pleased than anything.

"Yeah? You don't sound surprised though."

His answer was a shrug, leaving her to continue on with a question; "How'd you come upon it anyway?"

"Pop-up ad."

"Pop-up ad?" She asked, incredulous.

He nodded and gestured her to follow, continuing to talk all the while. "It wasn't a warlock that helped me find it, if that's what you wanted to hear. I happened on it while browsing some imageboards, as you do. As far as I know it isn't harmful and it did make me think. I told Annie about it so that we could have a nice conversation about it."

"You went to a depressed, paranoid woman with some creepy-ass website because you wanted to talk about it?"

He cringed at her choice of words. "You make me sound like a bad person, but it's true.I find the ideas of genies and monkey paws intriguing, so the site was right up my alley. Talking about it is quite an intriguing affair, too. What would a person wish for if they got just one chance for it? Aren't you thinking it's amazing?"

She didn't, or at least a more mature part of her didn't. Of course there was another part, one that was intrigued, one that wanted it to be true. Leslie knew why she thought that way, but she rolled her eyes at his explanation anyway.

"If it's all so exciting, then what did you wish for, then?"

Rick looked up at the sky, snow fell down on his face. His nose wasn't a pretty sight from the side, like a hook it went forth from his face. The sight always annoyed her ever so slightly, but she took it as positive that she didn't find him attractive anymore. Her love for him had been a distraction anyway.

"Well, I thought of the possibilities first. I mean, if you had one wish, wouldn't it be prudent to wish for world peace? Money that never runs out? I thought that I kind of needed to wish for something big, something that would advance everybody, but then I thought about you."

She almost felt compelled to halt, to turn around and just walk away before he said another word. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow and carefully tried to assemble a proper answer in her head. "Please don't tell me you wished that we date again."

He smirked at that comment, and she smirked right back at him, but not a word was said. What his smile meant, she couldn't quite say, but she hoped it was his way of sarcastically answering her, "Suuure."

"I thought of you confessing your infantilism-thingy to me, actually. Dressing up, playing pretend."

That wasn't exactly what she expected, but she felt heat coming to her head and averted her eyes. "You thought I was a freak."

"At first, right? If I remember correctly I let you pretend to be a child at least once. I was thinking of that specifically, actually."

That had happened, she remembered, though since she didn't think much of their relationship anymore, the memory was left in a bin somewhere in the back of her brain. It had been in the early days of their relationship and it'd been the first time someone had shown any interest in her littlespace. It hadn't been something Rick was into, but at the time, he looked like he enjoyed it as much as she did.

"I think I was always jealous of how honest you could be with yourself," he continued as the dark path twisted and turned before them, branches preventing all but the snow from reaching through. "It said that one true wish would be needed to set me on the path or something, so I decided to be honest with myself. Did I want world peace? Yeah, sure, but I don't even believe it can happen. Do I want a lot of money? I'm happy where I am moneywise. I get to live and die by my own rules, so I've got nothing to complain about."

"You found yourself a happy man, then?" Leslie asked, the thought a twisting knife in her mood.

"I wouldn't say that," Rick answered her, "but I am a satisfied man, for the most part. The thing that would bring me happiness isn't so much that I want to make people happy with my wish, I wanted something else."

The woods parted before them and they found themselves standing close to a beach. The sea's waves crashed against the sandy shore and seagulls were caw-ing above them. Leslie stared at it with little affection. The sea was a common sight for her and after all these years there was little splendor left to it. Rick extended his arm and pumped his fist into the air.

"I wished for the determination to always do the right thing. As a child I always wanted to be a hero, but I was always painfully aware that reality and the comics I read were two vastly different entities. I thought that if I could be at least a little more determined, then maybe I could help at least those around me and probably make this city a much better place than the run down heap of trash that it became."

His smile was a hopeful one, one that told her that he really wanted this wish to come true. She'd thought him a nice person, a talkative person, but she hadn't thought he'd be an idealist to such an extent.

"You don't really think the wish can come true, do you?" Leslie asked as he finally put his hand down.

"That's the thing. I kind of do. As you said, the site is strange. I can't even tell you the address, and I've been there multiple times. There's nothing on the internet about it, no hint that it even exists. I've read enough stories and seen enough movies to know where this should go.."

She sighed, sure that he was overthinking it, but the moment she tried to think of the site's web address, she couldn't quite pin down the letters. For whatever reason, she was sure she could reach the site on her phone, but couldn't say how she would do so. As that realization hit, she felt something cold crawling down her spine.

"That doesn't sound like a good weird, though," she told him quietly, but he just shrugged it off.

"You might think that, Les. Did you have a wish, too?" He asked and she nodded. "Oh? Could I take a guess at it?"

Leslie looked at her friend, who smiled at her eagerly. He was sure to be able to tell what sort of wish she had, an easy confidence that came with having known each other ever since she first stepped into this city. "Go ahead," she answered him.

He giggled. "This is easy. Knowing you, you wished to be able to prance about, diapered and wearing the cutest dresses and everybody telling you what a cute little kid you are."

She blinked, then touched her chin with two cold fingers. It was a good thought, Leslie found. Every ABDL wanted to be able to go out without fear of persecution, she'd always figured, but with the wish she might've made it happen. In a way, what she typed now seemed a waste, but she was also sure that if she hadn't thought of it, it wasn't a "true desire".

"Actually, I wished to have a child's body."

"Oh," he answered flatly. "So you want to be a toddler, is that wise?"

Her Little was somewhat of a toddler, though she'd never pinned down the age. "No, that be worse. Just a child again, that'd be nice. I loved life when I was young and that was in part because I knew I was young."

He wanted to say something, but then no words came out of his mouth. Silence followed and she was thankful for it. The crash had taken her parents, the fire had done away with her home. She had outgrown it all, but everything aside from a blazing red was a haze of wishful thinking, old hopes and childish dreams.

After a while, he spoke up again.

"You know what? If it's a hoax, we'll wake up tomorrow as always and get to work. I'm not staking my hopes and dreams on a website I found while browsing for cat pictures. If it does work? I think that'd be interesting, Les."

She doubted it, but a small part of her wanted to believe, to be relieved of this rotting body. Leslie looked at her right hand, as it shook in the cold. She could spot the veins on its back, obvious little things that pressed blood towards her freezing fingers.

"So, how about we make a deal?"

"A deal?" she repeated, tilting her head, while her hands retreated into her pockets once more.

"Yeah. If tomorrow, everything's the same as always, I'll take you out next saturday. You can pretend to be a child for a whole day. If our wishes do come true, how about you call me and we help each other settle into the changes?"

She looked at him queerly. "Why would I want to come and play at your house?"

His smile was a wonderful sight, Leslie had to admit. "Simple, because you look tired and I guess you need to unwind at one point or another. I don't care whether you be nine months or ninety within my domain, we're friends and we should hang out more."

And her smile came easier to her than before, Leslie figured. "How cute, you just want to hang out with me."

"Deal?" He asked, stretching out his hand again.

"I'll take the deal, but I won't shake your hand on account of my hands freezing, alright?"

He laughed and ruffled her hair. "It'll be fun, Les."

They parted ways there. She went on along the harbor, back to the city, while he walked back to the forest. Leslie was glad that she met him, now that she thought about it. Otherwise, she would've just spent her afternoon brooding, which was a pain, if truth be told. Now her head wasn't hurting anymore and she could spend the rest of her day slowly getting back home.

And slow she intended to take it. When she reached the train station on the edge of the district she was in, it was already past 4 PM. Leslie didn't have much money with her, but she bought a ticket that would allow her to ride around like an idiot for two hours. Stalling at its finest.

Not many people rode with her. An older man sat quietly, two teenage boys talked about video games opposite to him, and a group of men and women was laughing it up by the next door. She seated herself distant from them all and go out her phone, checking whether she could truly access the wish making site.

Her fingers danced on the plastiglass of her phone, hitting buttons and writing out an address she didn't know and by the time they were done and she was there, Leslie wasn't even sure what just happened.

The site itself was different. The words "PLEASE WAIT" stood huge and bold in the center of a black backdrop, but Leslie noticed that she could scroll down. With a flick of a finger she found herself staring at more text.

"There are rules on the path you chose. If you do not fail the first challenge, the chance will never have appeared to you in the first place and your life will go on or not, depending on your will," she read out loud.

That's rather morbid, she thought and her mouth twisted a little. This site really was creeping her out.

"The first rule is to always stay true to the path you chose. Do that and your quest will yield the rewards you seek and more," Is this an RPG?, "but fail and the consequences will swallow you and all you hold dear."

She thought of the shiver she felt back in the forest and wondered whether it already left her, because she kind of thought that it was still there, softly running its fingers down her back.

"The second rule is to only wish for the hopes and dreams you held close to your heart the most. False ideals and lofty desires will only show you for the coward you are. The path you chose is one of your making, but once you forsake it and yourself the consequences will swallow you and all you hold dear."

Two rules, that was it. She found the second one a bit more ominous, but it was pretty much in line with the first one. Be yourself, get booty. Don't be yourself, the consequences will swallow you and all you hold dear. Was this whole thing about loving oneself? Leslie rolled her eyes.

As she turned her phone off and put it into the pocket of her jacket, her thoughts drifted to Rick. He'd never once told her that it was fine to play. He smiled at her once as she dressed up and was herself just for him, but nevermore. A part of her was angry, another was relieved. She didn't know what to make of his deal with her, but if he stood true to his word, then she would have a chance to be Little with someone accepting her.

In a way, that was already a wish come true.

It didn't fill her with as much happiness as it should have. Tomorrow was monday and then came another gruesome week of work. She felt a tinge of fear in the back of her head and hoped that Carla was sick. That or fired, Leslie would take either gladly.

Yet she couldn't know how the morrow would look, aside from bleak and horrible, and so she decided to just let her thoughts drift for a while.

From the edge of town to where she lived, it took a train about an hour, so she spent the rest of the time getting on another train and then another, riding in circles around her home district. After that, she got out at a station farther removed from her home than originally intended, so the walk there took her another hour.

It was already 7 PM when she got home, her stomach telling her to finally grab something proper to eat. So she prepared a dull meal in a dull kitchen and ate it on that couch she hated so much. After that, she took a shower. Though the water was warm she felt a cold in her as her heart viciously beat against her chest. She felt like could throw up.

It was just like every sunday evening, Leslie figured bitterly.

Wrapped in a towel, she walked over to her bedroom where she opened her cabinet in hopes of finding proper sleepwear. On the top shelf rested four more diapers. They were too few and the end of the month was too far away, so Leslie grumbled. She needed to recalculate how much money she could spend, since the diapers kept her at least somewhat afloat when she felt down on her luck.

For tonight, she didn't take one, even though she wanted nothing more than feel the safe embrace of crinkling plastic and soft padding against her skin. Instead, she opted for a simple shirt and pants.

She closed the cabinet, tossed the towel into a corner and went to get her phone, looking at it one final time before she put it down on her couch.

"Fat chance," she grumbled and went off to bed, where she would lie for a few hours, dreading the morning to come. As the clock struck midnight, she finally managed to drift off to sleep. She thought to hear her phone in the distance, but dismissed it.

There were no dreams that night and the morning came against all hopes.

Leslie woke long before her alarm clock made itself noticed. Her eyes opened themselves, while only the city's lights provided some illumination to her bedroom. Still half-asleep, she felt a bit weird, as if her clothing pants had come loose and so she kicked them off before they could annoy her too much.

Then, after staring at the ceiling for a while, she finally managed to rise up and slipped her legs past the edge of the bed. That was when she noticed the second strange thing. She wasn't touching the ground. Instead her feet sort of dangled there for a second.

And her room was looking awfully big, too.

Leslie Audet blinked and then she heard the sound of her phone in the distance, as it rang with the melody of a song she didn't particularly like. "Who Wants To Live Forever," had always been her least favorite Queen song.

As she let herself drop down from the bed, she felt strange on her feet, as if they were much shorter than usual. She didn't quite get it, but moved forward nonetheless.

"Don't tell me I got a fucking cold," she muttered, not knowing whether she should be angry or joyful.

As she stood before the door she looked at the handle, how much closer it was to her eye level. For a second she stared at it, while the song played from the mobile phone. For a second her thoughts were vanishing in a river of nothingness and then a clear thought appeared within her and her eyes widened in shock.

"You have to be kidding me!"

  • Like 4
Link to comment

wow!

let me say that backwards: wow!

let me say that upside-down: mom!

aside from this being one of the most well-written stories I've seen here in a while (I would expect no less from you :)) It's also one of the most compelling for me. I can very easily imagine myself in Leslie's shoes 20 years from now. Her depression & hopelessness resonate with me on a deep level that I so rarely find in stories. Not because I am that way, but because I could be. Frostwyrm, you are absolutely phenomenal.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Chapter 3
A Fast Morning


Her heartbeat was the worst part. With every step she took through her apartment she felt the pounding within her chest. Her hands trembled, and not from the cold. Leslie found herself hurrying towards the kitchen where she grabbed one of the two chairs she owned. As she did that, Leslie cursed herself and the bathroom mirror, because she was sure it was too small and hung too far up for her now.

Worst of all, she was shrunken. Leslie knew that much, but whether it was because of that wish she'd given on the site or for some other reason, she couldn't say. Back in the bedroom, once she turned on the lights she found her legs and arms skinny, her hands small and the veins that were so obviously placed before were hidden beneath the skin now. The freckles that ran past her shoulders far more overt than before too and there was also less hair on her body. Still, she decided to doubt her wish had come true, even though no reason came to mind what else could have happened.

"And on a fucking monday morning too," she grumbled as she dragged the chair into the bathroom and climbed on it.

It was an unsteady affair and she had to keep one hand on the chair's back to keep her balance, but at least she got the chance to finally have a look at her face. Her own, brown eyes stared right back at herself, a reflection of youthful awe on her face as her doubts were washed away in wave of indisputability. Her hair was a wild mess that came ever so close to touching her shoulder and together with that round face of hers, she found herself looking almost boyish.

The best part was her freckles, though. They were plastered on her face like someone had emptied a pepper caster on it. She looked like her child-self, down to the hair and the small stature. Ten was about a year before puberty reared its head, she remembered, and a year before she started growing into an average individual with absolutely no excelling qualities.

There were no words to describe what she saw, really, or at least she could find none to describe what she felt at the sight of herself. Leslie just gazed in a mirror, clad in a turquoise–and boring looking–nightshirt where the neck of it dropped down her shoulder. "I'm so tiny," she stated with more glee than she originally intended, her grin almost too wide.

She was stricken by the thought that this was her wish come true, that she wasn't old anymore. "Jesus fucking Christ in heaven," she noted, poking at her cheeks.

This was something good, right? Leslie noted how she felt better looking at herself, and yet the moment she made that observation, another thought creeped up on her. If her pajamas were too big for her, wouldn't that also stay true for the rest of her wardrobe?

"Oh fuck no," she told to her mirror-self, who looked just as shocked at the thought.

She jumped off the chair and landed with a cat's grace. Her knees bent, but she only noticed the absence of pain. Once more, a smile flashed across her face as she tried to quietly hurry through her apartment and into her bedroom. There, she opened her wardrobe. Her two business suits, her arrangement of pants and shirts, her jackets and even her damn socks and underwear, they were all still the same size as before.

Suddenly she felt the confidence spilling from her like water from a bottle filled with holes.

Her breath halted and she took a moment to look at the clock. It spelled out that it was still only half past 5, although she heard the neighbours to the right stir and grumble and make coffee. She had time until 7 to figure out what to do, considering she needed to be at work today. What options did she have? Even if she could miraculously arrange her clothes in a way that would fit her now, nobody at work would recognize her. Unless she shifted all of reality with her wish, which she didn't even want to test out. And if she didn't come? Her boss would fire her, her co-workers would gossip like the hens they were and Clara. …

Leslie shook her head, even calling in would be weird. At best, she could pretend to be her own daughter, which was already a horrible lie, but it would drag attention towards her. The police might come, her boss would fire her, she'd lose her home and would, if she didn't change back soon, presumably end up in an orphanage or the like.

"I'm proper fucked," she said, listening to her high-pitched voice, staring at the finely laid out clothing before her.

Maybe she could still try to call. If Lara or Joanne were on the other end, she could probably just tell them it was the flu that made her voice sound so high. They were idiots, after all, but if it was Yoon or that other woman, then they'd catch on immediately.

Even if she somehow managed to deal with work, she would still need clothing. She couldn't go out like this. What would Asad say? He knew that all her relatives had long since passed on, god bless none of them. How would she explain that little, redheaded girl who came from her apartment. Even worse, how would she explain that she had no bloody clothing?

Suddenly, this situation was becoming less and less ideal. And it was cold.

Leslie grumbled and walked over to the radiator, touching it and feeling what little warmth it offered. Some days she wondered if the only way to heat her room properly would be to start a fire, but decided that instead of doing that, she could just grab her blanket and move back to the couch. There, she could think on what she could do next.

Her mobile phone lay on the couch. As Leslie spotted it, she remembered that somebody had attempted to call her just as she woke up. After seating herself, she curled herself up beneath the blanket and made a grab for her phone. Someone left her two messages and she'd gotten one call from the same number, though, despite looking at it, she couldn't make out any numbers.

That alone was reason enough to not call them back, Leslie figured. She knew it had to do with the site and whatever was going on, she doubted that immediately jumping further into this mess would lead to the betterment on the her situation. So instead she checked up on her messages.

The first one had arrived at midnight, right as the clock had struck twelve. She couldn't make out the number again, but decided to check it out anyway. As long as she didn't answer anymore questions for now, she should be fine, right?

She opened the message and it offered a simple text.

>>Congratulations, Leslie Audet. Your Desire Struck True And You Are One Of The Seven Who Won. When You Are Ready, Return To The Site And Start Shaping The Path You Chose.

There was a link beneath the message. Don't click it, she thought, her tiny body shaking beneath the now large shirt. So she just swiped it away and looked at the next message. This one came from Rick.

>>Please do not call on this day, my phone does not work. I will talk to you once I have acquired a new one.

She looked at the message, her fingers subconsciously rubbing her left temple.

"Motherfucker," she mumbled and leaned back.

She didn't know whether his wish had been fulfilled, but then again, how would he be able to tell the difference? Something like a burst of determination wasn't that wondrous, even for him, and vastly different from changing into a kid. Calling him had been an option she hadn't considered before, but it was moot anyway. As far as answers to her predicament were concerned, there was only one way left.

"Start shaping your path, huh," she mumbled, eyes on the ceiling.

Leslie bit her lip, thought about what could happen. There were multiple options, on one hand, she could get an explanation of how to deal with this situation and on the other, she presumed the worst case scenario to be that she needed to sell her soul to the devil. Not that she was a believer, but she did just wake up as a kid. At this point, anything could be considered fair game.

The house around her slowly resounded with the people waking up one by one. She heard steps above, peppered with silent curses about "that bitch and her alarm clock" downstairs. Somewhere down the corridor, somebody's shower was turned on and it crashed against the ceramic. Worst of all, she was running out of time.

Her hands were shaking, so she folded them, clutching the phone tightly. Maybe she should just get it over with. There had been something written about consequences to the wishes and maybe this was just one. First up was finding out more about what exactly had transpired, then she could figure out what to do next.

Yes, that sounded good, Leslie thought, wiggling her toes. They were so bloody small now, too.

She opened up the message from the unknown number. The light of the phone flashed up in her face and for a moment she cursed herself for needing to do this at such an early time.

The site came open once more, yet it looked completely different from before. It was dyed in a soft pink hue, with hearts and flowers on the borders and a red headed cartoon girl holding up a series of colored blocks that spelled out:

 

 

Welcome

The girl wore her hair in the same shaggy manner Leslie did and to that, blue shortalls together with two knee socks, one striped blue, the other striped pink. Beneath her stood the words: "Leslie Audet, A Child Again, Started On Her Path"

Nothing more, however, and so Leslie found herself scrolling down and down and down and down again. She found naught but a void of pink with cute border designs. It took her some thirty seconds until she reached another piece of text, written in an elaborate font that seemed almost like actual handwriting.

"Dear Leslie," she read it out loud, "The path you chose leads you down whatever road you want to take, but the You that was created tonight cannot be changed anymore. What you saw in the mirror," she stopped for a moment, there was something crawling down her spine, it had a thousand tiny legs. She shuddered, then kept on reading. "What you saw in the mirror was your truest wish and you will re-shape the world with it."

What that meant, she couldn't say, but this wasn't the end of the site. She scrolled further, past more emptiness. It was almost relaxing to look at it. After a bit she started to think that this site, for all its horrible design choices, was almost hypnotic.

"Dear Leslie," she spoke loudly as she hit the next batch of text. "From this day forth you have left your old life behind. You are a wishmaker. If you truly desire that, don't stop."

Emptiness. It felt like home, like herself. The site was a garish color, flowers turned to toys and toys turned to an empty black field. The site became nothing but a dark void with only three simple things to tell her.

"Your phone will allow you to write out a wish once every sunday, tuesday and thursday eve. The wishes will always come true on the next morrow. They will last for seven days. All except the very first one. That one set you on your path."

"The wishes are needed to be written out as follows: From This Day Forth … Formulate around that. The wishes need to be centered around you and need to be true to the path you chose."

"The path you chose and the power invested in you may grant you what you desire most, but know that all wishes hold consequences. If you do fail on your path, or do not the conviction to press on through. …"

A black void came up for a few second. Leslie's mouth twisted, the pause seemed unnecessary.

"You Will Be Left Here And The Consequences Will Swallow You And All You Hold Dear."

She stared at that for but a moment, giggling at the attempted suspense and then found the button beneath it. It read: "Download Wishmaker application".

So this was what was going on. Through luck or whatever she'd gotten the chance to turn her life around with three text messages a week. Leslie blinked, not quite believing what she just read. She looked at the rules again and then flicked her finger so that the site would scroll up once more.

This time, she immediately found herself at the very start again, with the young girl holding colored blocks, smiling at her brightly. "Started on her path," she said out loud.

Leslie threw off the covers to look at herself again. So tiny, so fragile looking. It was a strange sensation, but it felt better than her adult body had. There wasn't any pain to it, and no more wrinkles. She doubted her period was going to happen anytime soon, either.

She looked like a child again, she could smile at her own reflection again and if she had more wishes, she could also make more changes. Whatever life she wanted before, now it was within her reach. After all, the first wish had already come true. It was cold, but sweat was running down her brows. She grimaced. It's fine.

Leslie pressed the button, even though her fingers trembled. A second later she rationalized it further. As the app hit the first percent, she told herself that it was necessary, as it hit two, she told herself she could be whomever she wanted to be with this chance.

Yet her internet was slow and Leslie soon found herself walking around the room, her phone lying on the couch. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, while she felt the cold growing evermore. She bit her lip again, wondering what she could do. The idea came as sudden as a lightning strike.

She hadn't told Asad everything about her life, right? He knew that she had lots of friends in her college years, had been romantically involved with quite a few men. He didn't know everything, right? Maybe she could go down the stairs, talk to him.

She frowned. Small kid in an adult's nightshirt complaining about heating, that seemed more like a sure-fire way to be the house's topic of conversation for days to come. Yet, she needed to do something. Staying here for two days wasn't an option, somebody would notice.

"What the fuck am I doing?" she asked aloud.

No, really, what was she doing? Pacing up and down in her apartment until that download would finish wasn't going to solve her immediate problem. She was probably just overthinking how much she'd talked about her life, or how much Asad ever listened to any of her shit. Plus, from what she knew about him, he was well-stocked in clothing, because people from his extended family often came to stay at his place for a longer period of time. He'd said something about a niece twice-removed that should've been about the age Leslie thought her body to be.

And if she was going to remain a child, he'd find out about her presence sooner or later. "Might as well make it on my terms," she said, her teeth started to chatter.

Strange how cold it'd gotten.

Ignoring that, she went for the door, fully aware that she wore naught but a shirt. It didn't matter, she could just come up with something on the fly. She was good at making up stuff on the fly.

Maybe.

A moment later she made a grab for her secondary key, which she kept in a boot she never used anyway. After that, without really thinking about it, she left the safety of her home and stood in the middle of the battered floor. Someone upstairs was using the shower, though it sounded more like they tried to crack open their floor. Honestly, it was a wonder that the house still stood.

Everybody else was probably still within their own apartments and Leslie was thankful for it. That way, she could just quietly go down the stairs with nobody commenting on that weird, half-dressed child.

As she took the turn on the floor beneath hers she heard Asad's voice down below. "… threatening me?"

She stopped as she heard that, blinked. What?

"All I'm sayin' is that you gotta be careful, you know?" A stranger's voice sounded from below.

Leslie bit her lip and took another step, then one more. Quiet as a cat she moved down, taking all steps until the stairs winded, there, she went down to her knees and took a peek at who was standing there.

Asad stood in the door of his apartment, wearing an expensive looking bathrobe over his pajamas. He stared angrily at a lean, blonde man with a mustache that seemed misplaced on his face. To that, he wore a white suit with a bright green shirt underneath, a white tie and a pair of shoes that looked both really expensive and really ugly. With the blonde man stood a taller, more muscular bald guy who tried his hardest to look intimidating.

"Why would I do business with Moore if all he can do is send empty threats? Go back to him and give him my regards." Asad said, his fist trembling with anger.

The blonde man looked down, a nervous smile on his lips and then he simply shrugged. "Alright, if that's how you want to play. But this entire district is going to be remodelled soon enough, you might stand the tide better if you chose your friends well."

"Give him. My regards," was all Asad said to that, his voice like ice.

The blonde man sighed and then turned his head, his eyes finding Leslie, who, caught in the moment, hid herself around the corner.

"Right, then. A good day to you, Mister Faqir."

His eyes had been green and the smile on his lips died long before it reached them. Loan Sharks? Perhaps, but maybe something even worse. Not that it mattered, not to her, she needed to move now.

Leslie took one deep breath and then she got up and started to move down the stairs. Asad, who was still eyeing the blonde guy and his friend, heard her. He turned around, for a moment attempting a smile to play down his discomfort, but then he saw what came down the staircase.

It must've been quite the sight, considering how his eyes widened for a moment. The question was clear, since he knew every person in this house. Who was she? Then, whose was she? If he found an answer, he shook his head in disbelief at it.

"Morning," she said as she stepped onto the floor, the cold air from the opened front door reaching her legs.

"Morning, kid. Who sneaked you in here?"

"Mom," Leslie answered immediately and with that she knew what sort of story she could spin.

Asad tried to not react, tried not to eye her suspiciously. He failed. "Who's your mom, then?" His voice was stern.

She stayed quiet for a moment, looked down at her feet. Her legs were shaking ever so slightly. "Leslie Audet," she said then.

Now he was surprised. "Ah, that so? Didn't she had one."

"Mom was surprised, too," she said with a grin, her eyes only going up to his chest. "But dad insisted that I could come. So she relented."

He gave a nod, but his entire expression was that of a man who didn't understand the sight of it. "Well, good for you, kid. What're you doing out here, wearing one of her shirts?"

She found her feet again, but only for a second, before she looked up again. "I didn't have my pjs, so mom lent me hers. It's almost like a dress," she said, spreading out her arms as if to present herself.

"Kind of," he answered with a strange twist to his mouth. "But then why are you walking around with your pajamas?"

She shrugged. "Mom left with them."

"What? Why?"

She shrugged again.

Asad stared at her for a moment, clearly not knowing what to do. "When did she leave?"

Another shrug. "I woke up and she was gone. She wrote that she'd be back, but I don't know when."

There was a quiet moment between them and then he looked up at the ceiling. Leslie wondered whether he was asking Allah for guidance, even though she'd never taken him for someone religious. Then he sighed. "How about I lend you some clothes. I've got some from a relative of mine."

Leslie couldn't help but smile. A part of her felt bad for lying, but this was for the best and he was as trusting as she'd hoped. One day, she'd pay him back for this. "Would that be alright?" she asked, however. As much as she hoped, there was no reason to be rude.

"Yes, it's perfectly fine," he answered and showed her in. "I'm Asad Faqir and you?"

"Lee King," she answered, thinking Robert the most likely candidate for any affair that involved an illegitimate child.

Asad's apartment looked far better than any other part of the house, or at least better than her own. The walls were filled with pictures of people and places Leslie didn't know, the carpet in the living room was made by an uncle who'd taken his business to france after running from his distant home. The furniture looked old and, in Leslie's opinion, kind of stylish. As she entered she noticed the whole place smelled of vanilla.

"Come on," he said and she followed him to the room which he kept for family.

It was probably a large room, were it not for the four different wardrobes and the two beds stuffed in there. What room remained was little enough to walk and open the drawers. Yet she noticed how neatly the beds were done. The sheets were fresh and not a single speck of dust had settled here. Asad really cared for how tidy his place looked, more so than Leslie ever did.

He pointed at one of the wardrobes. "I'll let you borrow the stuff from within. Take what you need today, but I'll expect it back tomorrow. Clean," he said, his voice offering no hint at what he thought about this whole situation.

Leslie nodded. "Thank you," she said, "Mister Rafiq."

He gave her a small smile as he squeezed past her, his belly touching against her nose. The man was in honest need of a work out.

At least he was comfortable enough to let her stay without supervision. It made her wonder whether it was because she claimed to be Leslie's daughter? Did he have any faith left in her? They hadn't talked often over the past year or so, after all.

She shook her head and went for the drawers, going through the clothing. She picked out two striped articles of underwear, a pair of jeans that fit her well enough with a belt, a pair of socks, and a plain, yellow shirt with long sleeves. Most other articles weren't appropriate for the season, but Leslie wasn't going to complain. Every article was put on with care, though the shirt's sleeves and the pants' legs seemed a bit too long, but the latter she simply rolled up a bit, while the former were really just optimal for the cold.

She did not need a mirror, Leslie figured as she looked down, because she was surely rocking this style anyway. Take away the grey in my hair and I can fit into everything, she thought with a smile.

The girl closed the wardrobe and turned around again, spotting a picture on the wall behind her. On it was a prepubescent girl, standing together with her family in a different house. She recognized Asad, though he look a bit younger, his expression lifeless.

There were other people. She recognized a few of them, from a dinner Asad had invited her to, some four years ago. Another horrible experience she didn't want to remember.

So she instead moved out of that room and found Asad standing in the hallway that connected everything in the apartment. He leant against the wall in an attempt not to look awkward, but he probably was.

"So, you found something to your liking?" He said, scanning her slowly, his expression softening as he did.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks again. It's much more comfy if you got socks on."

Leslie wiggled her toes, she was happy to feel them again.

"I bet. Well, I would invite you for a hot cocoa, but business calls me and you should probably head back up. Your mom'll be worried sick if you aren't there."

She smiled. "Yes, you're right. Thanks again, Mister Rafiq."

He smiled in return. "Faqir, like the people who sleep on beds of nails, kiddo."

They exchanged their goodbyes and moments later, Leslie found herself walking up the stairs again, her smile not vanishing. In fact, it was growing. "It worked," she mumbled, feeling the cloth of the shirt against her skin.

She got inside her apartment, closed the door behind her and then broke out in laughter. "He didn't recognize me. My fucking god, this is brilliant."

She would've loved to raise her voice, but she heard someone walking up above, and that someone was talking, too. Well, it wasn't like anybody would care. Even Asad believed her story, so why shouldn't all the other people who lived here? In fact, she could probably go outside now.

Of course, she didn't have either boots or a jacket now.

Her laughter died immediately as the realization sunk in. She couldn't just stay here now. Leslie needed a solution.

"Can't go and ask him for help on that. So, another way."

She looked at the pairs of shoes that waited by the door. None of them would fit her feet, her tiny, kiddy feet.

Just at that moment, her alarm clock went off. She heard the annoying beep-ing of it and jumped up immediately, rushing across the room to shut it off. With a curse she hit it and knew that her time was up. Should she call in at work?

"No," she decided immediately. "I'll do that later, when I've got the rest of my situation figured out."

The rest meant clothing, for the most part, and some food. She needed a jacket, needed shoes. So maybe a trip to the shopping mall would help her think, maybe it would present her with new opportunities. Either way, this body was much like a new car in that she wanted to take it out on a test drive and the mall at the town center was perfect for that.

She went for her own wardrobe and grabbed the smallest jacket she could find, rolling the sleeves up so that they better fit her. It wasn't much, but at least she would only look a bit ridiculous. Next she grabbed her phone from the couch and looked a bit around for her purse, finding it in the pocket of the pants she wore yesterday.

One pair of boots fit her at least well enough to walk in them, she found after trying each pair out. Right now, that was the best she could hope for. Yet, as she found herself standing in shoes much too big for her, Leslie couldn't help but look at her apartment with a sense of distance.

"Shit," she told herself as she thought how quick she was to accept this mess. "I hate this place."
  • Like 1
Link to comment
Chapter 4
The Place Where Their Paths Converge


She could hear the song from the boy's mp3-player, some strange sort of electronica that was more noise than music. The youth himself attempted to sleep through the train ride, his school bag rested between his feet. Usually, she wouldn't have paid much attention to another passenger, but usually she would just stand by the door and wait for the train to reach her station. Leslie found today different, however, if only for reasons that weren't entirely in her comfort zone.

People noticed the kid wearing both a jacket and shoes that were too large for her size and every time the train halted, new people would come in and look at her as if she was the strangest thing they'd ever seen. It only ever lasted a few seconds, then they decided to not be bothered any further. That was the glory of a large city, she figured, nobody really cared about all the things that didn't directly involve them.

The walk to the train had made two things abundantly clear to her: Shorter legs were a bit of a pain and too large shoes were even worse. Even now her legs were dangling from the edge of the seat and the boots felt so close to slipping off. She half-wondered how tall she was, but somewhere around 4 feet something was a possibility. I forgot how tiny I was at ten, she thought with a bitter twist to her mouth. At least it provided a mild entertainment for all those people around her.

There were two more teenagers who'd strategically placed themselves opposite to her, holding hands and exchanging giggles. They appeared shy in their love, but the ability to make fun of a stranger brought them closer, as was evident by them kissing each other after a few jokes that were probably at Leslie's expense. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but teens would be teens and she could hardly challenge them for having a bit of fun.

Instead, she decided to do it as her seat neighbour and just threw her head back. The ceiling lights felt like a fire to her eyes, but closing them helped. All that remained was a white tinted nothingness and the sounds of morning train ride.

Someone was calling another person on the phone, they talked about how horrible mondays were, but followed that up with a laugh. Another person read a newspaper, she knew, close to the two lovers opposite to her, and another sat close by, looking at the articles from the side. Leslie turned her head slightly, opened one eye and watched a woman who looked at her wristwatch. She wore makeup and a business suit, even her hair was done neatly. Leslie couldn't help but smile at that.

It might've been a meeting she was headed to, or maybe an interview. She looked young, so maybe this was her first. Leslie didn't know how she felt about that. Don't think about tomorrow, try to stay in the now.

She turned her head back and stared at the ceiling again. Time went by and nothing happened. Some people got off, some new got in. A man on a phone loudly talked about "them" being "all up in his ass", a young girl and her father halted by the door, talking about what they would do after the visit to the doctor was done.

Had this city always been so lively?

The doors swung open again, people left, people came. It wasn't something she usually took note of, but now the girl couldn't help but look at all these strangers, how their lives converged on this ride. Some people laughed, fewer smiled, most didn't show any emotion at all. Usually, a redheaded woman stood by the door, watching the stations go by one by one, without ever looking anywhere but where she needed to go.

She looked at her hands and saw how clearly they belonged to a child. If she was completely honest with herself, the weirdest part was how it didn't feel strange. They were her hands, more so than before. The missing ache in her knee, how huge the world looked now compared to before, it all seemed natural to her. Once more she thought of how the messages had referred to this as her path. Was that why she felt so comfortable now?

Leslie Audet, much like anyone in a similar position such as her, had thought thought often and hard about why it all appealed to her; the cute dresses, frilly socks, bath toys, pacifiers and diapers. Her childhood was a blur where the most poignant moment was clad in a red blaze and smelled of burning flesh. At one point or another she figured that her Little had nothing to do with that past, or rather, it wanted nothing to do with it. It was an idealized child.

Was her "path" like that, too?

She got her phone out again and checked the download. While it was done there were no hints about a file, no .exe or any new buttons to press. Leslie didn't quite know what to make of that, so she decided to instead just go back to the site, not that she expected to reach it, what with her being in the subway and all.

Of course, the moment her fingers moved as if guided by some knowledge that only they had, she figured that the connection would probably not be a problem. A second later she found herself staring at that cartoon version of herself. She felt a smile creep up on her face again as she looked at it.

An idealized childhood, or rather one where she wasn't supervised by peers who either tried their hardest to set her back or just plainly didn't care, that wasn't so bad. She just needed this to work.

"Next stop: Starstone Street," came the automated voice and a moment later the train slowly came to a halt.

It was her station, so she got up and awkwardly walked to the door, earning more curious looks from strangers she would never recognize on the street again. The station was below the earth and so she took the stairs up to where the world was covered in a thick layer of snow. The cold air brushed against her cheeks and buried her hands in pockets that had never seemed as deep before.

The jacket was almost a coat for her new body, which, for once, was a blessing. Yet every step felt strange and she cursed herself for never buying shoes in kid's sizes. Not that it would've made much sense, but she needed to complain anyway. It made her feel better.

Starstone Street was called that way ever since a meteorite had fallen down here in the nineteen twenties or thirties. The story had it that it tore open the old road, forcing the legislation to renew it after putting it off for many years. There were many stories about what happened to the "Starstone" after its fall. Some said that it disappeared into the air before anyone could find it, others talked about how it was taken by a local group of children. Urban legends surrounded the street and even more so, they surrounded the mall.

The Starstone Mall was the modern center of the city. The best cafés and restaurants could be found there, as well as shops for almost anything the world had to offer. An old lady offered local fish as well as more expensive export food from warmer southern nations, another shop was filled to the brim with all sorts of music instruments. There were guitars, drums, pianos, she even saw a pungi in there. There was a bookstore that seemed too ancient for the building itself and an ice cream vendor who came up with the strangest flavors.

There was more to it than the shops though, there were stories. Everyone in the story knew one or two about this place and hardly any matched up save for a few details. Some said that strange apparitions roamed the mall in the night, chained to the place by regret and bitter wrath at deeds that remained unaccomplished; or of how a child could sometimes be heard weeping as it looked for the remnants of the Starstone.

Truth was, it was another thing she hadn't really considered before. She hardly ever came here, there was a supermarket in her district and what clothing she had was close to ten years old. The last time she'd been in the mall was already half a year gone, though she still remembered the singular day she spent here, once upon a time.

A silent curse was on her lips as she made her way to the next traffic light, from where she crossed the streets, wary eyes following her every step. She wasn't quite sure why so many people took an interest, but figured that everybody expected children to walk to school around this time and not to the mall. Nobody halted her, nobody talked to her, she was perfectly aware of how little they actually cared and so she could take her steps with a confidence that came almost easy.

Most shops inside opened at around 8 AM, most of them except for some few that were only open in the night and one café which offered breakfast from 6 to 10. As such, she entered the gateway and went into the mall without stopping even once. Yet she spotted only four other people. Two went past her on their way, one was looking at the map close to the entrance and another sat before the fountain.

The Starstone Mall was built like a crossroads, shops to all sides, packed into multiple floors. At the center was the fountain. Truth be told, it was older than the mall, having been built way before the twentieth century. Back when this had been a marketplace, it had been the heart, but now it only served as a worn-out looking decor that didn't quite fit in the modern exterior.

She walked towards it, intending to sit down there, at least for now. Her eyes were on the person who already sat on the fountain's edge, twiddling with his thumbs as he presumably waited for the same event as Leslie. Yet the shops wouldn't open for a while longer.

Leslie sat down a bit away from him, her feet not even touching the ground. She kind of hoped that her new size would at least mean the shoes would be affordable. Water fell from the figures carved out of stone. The faces they once bore were lost already, some had lost their arms, others were but silhouettes that only roughly reminded her of people. The fountain was considered a piece of the city's culture. She wondered if that was the reason why the voices for renewal were so loud. This culture was so damn old.

"The one with the beard's Poseidon," her neighbour suddenly said, looking at her with eyes as black as coal.

She turned her eyes to him. At least she figured him male on first sight, though his face had a softer, almost feminine vibe to it. She didn't consider him much older than twenty, though he was one of those asians from the farthest east. Age wasn't something read on the skin with those types, she figured. He wasn't all that tall, but compared to how she looked he might've well been a giant. His clothes were as casual as they could get, a sweater and tracksuit pants, and a coat laid beside him too. The one strange thing about him was that his haircolor was the same as hers, a bright red, though he wore it in a much shorter fashion.

Those moments of looking at him suspiciously she also used to figure out her answer. She knew that it was Poseidon, she even still remembered that he'd been a god, a roman one if she was to guess at the moment. Mythology had never been something that interested her.

"I know. The romans worshipped him," she gave as an answer, together with a sly smile.

She wasn't quite so sure why she was starting a conversation, either, but after all those stares, someone actually opening their mouth and acting like she existed was a welcome change.

He shrugged. "Close enough. The romans called him Neptune, in their own fashion. Poseidon was actually his greek name."

Leslie found herself looking at the statue he meant. An old man, standing in sea shells, baring an empty fist at the heavens. "But it's still the same guy," she then stated.

The boy nodded. "In a way, yeah, though the romans viewed him differently than the greeks and the people who built the fountain viewed even more different."

"How'd they view him?" She asked, turning her eyes back at him.

"Apparently some dude who would look awesome as the centerpiece of their artwork."

A slight giggle escaped her, it made him smile too. "I think he looks cool," she told the boy, noticing how childish the statement sounded just by being said by a child. "But also a bit boring. He's just an old guy."

"The statue had muscles once, and a crown, and a trident. Time wasn't to kind to him though, or Poseidon did some smiting because he wasn't pleased with the figure. Not enough goat sacrifices I presume," he told her light-heartedly.

Once more she giggled and then looked to the ground. One of the boots was slipping off again, damn the bloody thing. Still, she found talking easier on herself. My own voice isn't as annoying as it was, so that's a good thing. Not only that, this also was a good test, whether she could keep up the facade, not that she expected any complications. If she acted too mature, she would simply be labelled as a creepy sort of kid and then he'd be done with her, if she acted too immature, she figured he'd assume her to be weird.

"Anyway," he said after a while. "Why're you alone at the mall and that so early in the morning?"

"Cause I need new shoes," she answered, again opting for the easy truth.

He looked at the ones she wore and could only nod. "They do seem a bit big for you."

"They're my mom's," she answered again and his eyes went from her shoes to her eyes and then back again. She giggled and hearing her voice sounding like that filled her with a sort of glee. "I played too much. I broke one pair of shoes and lost another. Mom sent me here with hers, said it was a punishment."

"That's a weird way to punish a child," he noted.

She smiled at him and then pulled the boot that was about to fall off from her feet, placed it between them to show how large it was compared to her feet. His astounded look made her laugh. "I feel bigger when I walk in them. Sort of like a big, boot-wearing monster. A Boonster, or Bootser, I guess."

"A Boonster?"

"Yeah. It's Boot and Monster combined. It's the cleverest pun!"

She made fists with her hands to emphasize how awesome this was, an action which lead to him stifling a laugh. "You're a weird kid."

"I'm a boonster, though."

The young man went by the name John and Leslie also gave him her first name. He was here to get some clothes too, as it turned out, because his girlfriend didn't like what he usually wore. After she found out that detail, they went back to talking about greek mythology, or rather him teaching her about it.

Time passed quickly like that and soon the shops, one after the other started opening up. The lone pharmacist loudly proclaimed that he'd gotten the requested pills for the worker who opened the gates for the local supermarket, which was then followed by a comment how they would come and get them, but they just didn't feel like it. It was probably meant as a jest about depression, but nobody laughed, which was probably the real joke. The dynamic duo, thin Selma and fat Julia, opened their lingerie business together, both examining the state of the mall with faces painted in disgust. Honestly, they were quite nice inside the shop, but the moment they left, they made an effort to look like the most evil witches this side of hell.

People didn't swarm in, but rather walked in drop by drop. Students who had time to kill, businessmen and -women who would soon head to new destinations, people who just didn't need to go to work today, quite a few old people, mothers and/or fathers walking with babies on their hips started to fill the halls. As they all came walking in, John rose from his seat. "Alright. You know where you can get shoes, I assume?"

She nodded.

"That's one important step towards adulthood. Do yourself a favor and don't waste your money on toys. It might seem like a good idea, but your mother'll do worse to you than just let you walk around town with her shoes," he said.

"Don't worry. I'm the incarceration of responsibility," she said, immediately noticing that she'd gotten the word wrong. Damn brain.

"I'm not going to correct that," he said before she could correct herself. "That statement is perfect in its own right. Either way, good luck with the shoes and have a nice day, Leslie."

"Bye, Johnny," she answered and waved as he left.

She put the shoe back on and got up herself, though her stomach immediately roiled up in an ugly display of hunger and her bladder made it known that it wanted to be emptied sometime soon. Leslie frowned, but decided to get to a cash point first, then the shoes and only then would she deal with the public toilets.

As she started to walk again, she found that the people stared at her queerly again. This time, it wasn't uncomfortable for her. No, it hadn't been that bad from the beginning. She was a moment in their lives and it did amuse her how shocked they were at the sight of her. I really must look like a boonster, whatever the hell that is.

Getting money was easy, even though the machine wasn't build for people her height, which she considered ableist, if only because it impeded her. Yet she managed to get some paper money off her account, even though it stung seeing how tight her budget was.

The shoe shop was on the first floor and was just that, a shop that offered naught but shoes. She knew exactly where the children's shoes were, as luck would have it. The few times she'd walked into the mall she found herself wandering to that specific corner to gaze at whatever the kids today wore, only to leave with her mood soured. Today was different. Today she walked in with her big boots, walked right up to the measurement tool for her feet and then got down to business.

The business wasn't so good, though, as the prizes for most shoes were still horrifying, so limiting the choices she could make. In the end, she settled for a pair of black winter boots with pink floral motives that made them somewhat good looking. To that order, she added thick socks for the journey home. White with pale blue snowflakes and evergreen trees for pictures.

The cashier was professional enough and didn't question where the kid got the money from, or at least supported Leslie's cause for appropriately sized shoes. Either way, she got out as quickly as she got in, new shoes in a bag and her stomach rebelling against the lack of food, while her bladder acted like the stock-market before a financial crisis. Nevertheless, she first used the chance to put on her new shoes, revelling in the feeling of tiny shoes matching her tiny feet. This would enhance her running speed by a bit, so once Leslie had put the other boots in the bag she made to go on a search for the toilets, only to find her eyes staring at the pharmacy for a moment.

A thought rose up within her, and even though she knew that she should probably hurry, she decided to not immediately go for the toilets. Instead she walked through the crowds, where the people found her far less interesting now, and downstairs to the pharmacy.

Upon entering, the pharmacist tried to give her a smile, but didn't really manage to get his muscles to work. So instead, he just kind of awkwardly stared at her from behind a bushy moustache. Leslie walked through the aisles, staring at the different medications and wares they had here.

Finally, she got to the aisle which offered what she was looking for. Wipes, baby food, bottles, it was like they packed everything they could in here. Those were not the things she was here for. No, what she looked for lay by the diapers. It never occurred to her before, but now that she looked the way she did it seemed like an odd choice. There were diapers for newborns, training pants for toddlers and, as they called them, pyjama pants for kids and teens. A parent probably didn't think anything when shopping for these, but she had to wonder whether a child ever found it weird that their incontinence product, which were totally different from what babies wore (duh!) were nestled finely between diapers for said babies.

"It's probably marketing," she told herself, not really knowing if that even made sense.

It didn't matter, either way, her bladder was starting to annoy her and she only wore borrowed clothing. There was no time to be embarrassed, she thought and grabbed a package of pull-ons in the smaller of two sizes. She quickly walked over to the cashier and now he smiled in a bit of a condescending way.

"Hello, young lady," he said as she gave him the package so he could do his thing.

"Hi," she said, grinding her teeth and shuffling awkwardly as the pressure caused a spasm of pain to go through her.

He took how she looked for embarrassment, clearly, and just continued to smile in such a way that she really wanted to punch him. She didn't and instead just responded with an awkward smile at him.

There was a demand for money, she practically threw it at him and after she got her change back she just grabbed the package and made a run for it. She ran to the very center of the mall, turned in a circle once, and then again, the bag in one hand, and hugging the package with the other. What a sight she must've been, she figured while crossing her legs and praying to whatever gods heard her that the toilet sign would just pop up, but it didn't.

So she made the next best move. Nobody knew her, nobody cared for her. Telling herself that, she walked up to a woman and announced herself. "Uhm, sorry, lady?"

The woman turned around, smiling like she just found the cutest little kitten she'd ever seen. "Yes, darling."

"Could you tell me where the fucking toilet is?" She asked, loudly screaming Fuck! at herself in the far corners of her mind for using the f-word like that.

At least the smile vanished off the woman's face. "You shouldn't use such language."

"Yeah, yeah," she answered bitterly, dancing on her toes. "I'm having a bit of an emergency, so forgive me?"

The woman sighed and pointed to the western end of the mall. "You'll find the toilets there," she said.

Leslie nodded and hurried towards the direction, only to turn around again and take a bow. "Thank you, you're a lifesaver!"

She didn't wait for an answer, however. No, Leslie just ran until she reached the very end of the Starstone Mall, where the toilets were placed in some far off corner no sane person would ever notice. Honestly, who were the architects and what drugs had they taken?

That she needed to pay a fifty cents fee didn't help matters, but after some fumbling through her wallet she managed to conquer that trial as well and with a ring she got a ticket to the sweet relief she was looking for. Honestly, if anything deserved to be put into a mythos it was this run for the toilet, for the last meters were the most epic yet, with every step feeling like it could be her last before the stock market dropped and the panties of Asad's niece would be forever stained by her own inability to hold it in.

She found an empty stall, dropped her pants like a pro and a second later felt a bless she hadn't known for many years. That moment was then followed by her looking down and checking whether her pants were still fine. They were, her underwear however, not so much. She found a dark patch on it and bit her lip. Leslie knew that she had to wash them anyway, but she hadn't expected to overestimate her bladder like that. Smaller body, less able to do anything, except bend, I guess.

There was a lesson to be learned from this, but the important thing was that she didn't want to wear damp underwear. So her eyes turned towards the package of pull-ons, with that picture of a girl hugging a pillow, a smile on her face. I wonder how many are disappointed by how little these things hold? she wondered, but knew that she wasn't exactly in a position to judge. There was a fundamental difference between how she used diapers and someone suffering from enuresis did. Either way, she made a grab for it.

The package crinkled against the silence of the stall. If she opened it slowly, if someone else was in here, it would only attract unnecessary attention. Should she look for a changing station? No, that would have the same effect.

So, with a deep breath and one swift movement, the package ripped open loudly and she found herself staring at the cute little fairy and butterfly designs. She felt how the room got slightly warmer, her cheeks flushed.

Then came the steps, the steps and the sound of music. Another person with an mp3-player, she figured, listening to the so familiar work of AC/DC. Highway to hell? Leslie wondered as the person sat down in the stall next to her. "The fuck?" she asked as Brian Johnson's voice reached her ears.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, but nobody answered.

This was perfect. With the noise, nobody would notice anything. "And nobody will know about the accident," she told herself in a hushed voice, because now she felt daring enough for it.

She wiped and flushed quickly, before taking off her shoes, her pants and finally the panties. It felt weird to do it with someone in the stall right next to her, but she decided to continue on despite her gut feeling. She took one of the pull-ons out, unfolded it, stared at it for a second and then put it on as quickly as she could.

It wasn't exactly thick, but again, there was a difference to how it felt compared to when she was an adult. Being tiny had its plusses, too. Either way, she looked at it for a moment, then nodded and put her pants back on. Once that was done and she was back in her shoes, she put the package in the bag, put on the jacket and moved away from the stall, only then noticing how the music had stopped playing. Since when she didn't know, but it didn't matter.

Leslie walked up to the sinks and soaked her hands with water. It ran through her fingers and fell unto white ceramic, rushing into the depth from there. Leslie stared at the drain as she rubbed her hands with soap. The entire world looked different now, she had been able to communicate with at least one person without wanting to break their nose and she felt the padding between her thighs, like a soft shield protecting her from all the bad things in the universe. Leslie felt small and in that, she found herself smiling at her mirror image, before looking at her hands again.

The person who listened to the AC/DC track flushed her toilet and then walked out, but Leslie didn't feel like making eye contact. She heard the heels of the person's shoes on the floor, they made a loud noise with every single step and she felt the presence of the pull-on evermore.

In the corner of her eye she saw how the person turned on the water tab.

"Say," she said, her voice like steel wrapped in silk, "aren't you a little too old to be having potty problems?"

There was the hint of a scottish accent to it, a hint that Leslie knew all too well. It stirred an anger within her, the thought of all the insults, all the petty little stabs at her ego over the past five years, but also a fear, because now, this person was an adult and she an actual child. This was the worst person she could've met here.

The water spilled from the woman's hands and she gave Leslie the same smile as the pharmacist and the woman she asked for directions, like she was talking to some toddler. Her eyes, steel blue things that didn't bother to hide her malice, were fixed on Leslie and made her feel even smaller.

"Nervous? Don't be. At least you didn't ruin your little pants, so that's half a gold star, I imagine."

Clara Sanchez olive skin looked as flawless as ever, one might hardly think that she was near her forties already. She had long, black hair that was, of course, perfectly done; an hourglass build with ample breasts and a fashion sense that allowed her to always accentuate her rear. Makeup, lipstick, even the perfume all worked to make her look even better and, as Leslie noticed now that she looked at her, made her seem quite intimidating, too. If there was one fault to her, then it was that she was tall and even that was more of an advantage. She was close to 6 foot, which made her seem gigantic from Leslie's newfound position. Worst of all, Leslie's arms were so scrawny that if she hit Clara in the groin, she probably wouldn't notice, and that was just unfortunate.

  • Like 2
Link to comment

The place where their paths converge.

with a chapter title like that I knew it was gonna be good before I even read it!

I'm sure you get asked this a lot, but have you ever seriously thought of publishing an actual book? You've definitely got the talent. :)

Link to comment
It'll happen somewhere down the line, but for now I'm fine making free content for the internet to enjoy. That has its advantages, too. Also:
 
Chapter 5
The Lone Siren's Aria


"The fuck are you about?" was about the most sensitive thing that could have left Leslie's mouth at that moment.

Once again, her language struck ill with the person opposite to her, as that sugary smile of Clara's turned into a miserable frown. It almost made Leslie smile, but she simply held the stare, much like Clara did. She felt her fists trembling and her instincts begged her to act, but at least the condescension dissipated from Clara's face, if only for a moment.

"Well," she started, her smile showing off those white teeth of hers, "I was praising you, since you made it to the potty like a big–"

"Do I look like a toddler to you?" Leslie interrupted, barely able to keep her voice low.

The woman shrugged, because of course she did. "Not from the size, but," her eyes drifted to the bag Leslie kept on the ground. "Give me that for a second."

A part of Leslie wanted to ask Clara why she would just hand over her things to a stranger, a part of her wanted to roll her eyes, to bite her lips. Instead, however, she came upon another thought, another opinion swelling up within her. Why not? It asked and it made itself her foremost belief and the reason why she bowed down and handed over the bag so willingly. Clara made a grab for it, and Leslie noticed the sizeable difference between her hands and Clara's, as well as the scar that the left middle finger looked slightly twisted.

Clara looked into the bag and Leslie looked as her fingers dug into it, the realization of what she just did hitting her mind like lightning. Her mouth went wide open, her cheeks flared up and as the smile on Clara's face grew, Leslie stared down at the ground. What the hell was going on?

"Oh, look here," Clara said, at least having the decency to turn around, but nobody was there. Leslie wasn't surprised at that, the toilet was placed in the worst place possible. The woman turned around again, then pulled the panties from the bag. "What a poor girl, you probably were too busy doing your kid stuff to notice you needed to go until it was too late," she said and Leslie could feel her eyes on her.

Her legs grew weaker, she looked slightly upwards, wondering whether she could grab the bag and just bolt for the door. It was more sensible than letting Clara's weird game continue. Why did you give her that bag, you idiot?

"And there's more evidence in here," Clara said. "There's even an open package of–"

"They're not mine!" Leslie said, her voice slightly raised, her eyes gazing at Clara. She felt the fury burn up in her as she stared at this rotten woman.

Then the frown appeared again, though only the briefest of moments. "You really don't have any manners, do you?"

"I'm not the one going through other people's stuff! Give it back," she stretched out her hand.

Clara studied her, she seemed almost careful. "I thought it wasn't your stuff?" She asked.

"It's my bag," Leslie answered flatly.

"But not your damp panties and pull-ons?"

Clara's teeth were a perfect white, though Leslie wondered if a punch into them would do much harm. "Yes, now give. It. Back."

A sigh, the shaking of a head, Clara looked as annoyed as she was annoying. "Well, how about this. I'll give it back to you if you prove to me that you're telling the truth."

"How the fuck–"

Clara raised one hand and Leslie stared at it, then at Clara's face. Her face was stone, except for the eyes, they were laughing with vicious glee. "Show me your underwear," Clara finally said.

So blatantly phrased was the demand that Leslie couldn't even answer. Instead she blinked, wound back the tape inside her head only to find that Clara had actually just said that. The first thing she figured was to mouth a protest, to tell Clara how creepy she was and then finally punch her where it would really hurt. Leslie did, as a matter of fact, not do that. A thought jumped up in her mind, similar to before, like a judge's ruling in court, and suddenly her trembling fingers were pulling her pants down ever so slightly, so that Clara could get an actual look on the pull-ons.

"Alright, you can stop now," Clara said and Leslie adjusted her pants, one tear falling from her left eye.

She felt it on her cheek, felt her lips trembling. Why had she done that? Why would she just do what Clara told her to do? Monkey's paw, Leslie figured out a second later. Did her wish compel her to do whatever other people bid her to do? If so, then this was dangerous. I need to run!

Leslie acted before Clara even knew what was happening. She grabbed the bag out of Clara's hands and with quick steps, hurried towards the exit. Her mind was blank, her eyes focused on the gateway she'd come through.

"Stop."

The command was spoken so softly she barely heard it, but the moment she did, guilt started to swell up within her. Just running away wasn't nice, after all. It was an overpowering thought and the girl stopped immediately. Her feet were like glued to the ground and the exit seemed so distant now.

She heard the high heels on the ground behind her, an echo that sent shivers down her spine. At the same time, she knew that her guess had been right, and of course Clara was the sort of person who just took this strange kid for granted. Once more she tightened her fist and bit her lip, willing to swing around and give Clara one on the jaw if she would do anything weird.

A hand touched her head, much like a claw. It made Leslie freeze up even worse, she bit her lip and felt the pain of it. Clara just ruffled her hair, almost affectionately. "I'm sorry, kiddo," she said and had Leslie not known her, she would've called it genuine, "I didn't want to make you feel bad."

Leslie didn't say anything, she just looked forward.

"Tell me, how old are you?"

She didn't answer.

"Turn around," Clara then said, her voice not making it sound like the command it was.

Like a well-trained dog, Leslie turned on her heels. "Your age?"

She looked away, to the empty stalls of the mall. It felt like hours passed under Clara's gaze, but Leslie was sure it was only a minute or less. The shaking didn't stop, even though she really wanted it to.

"I'm forty-two," Clara suddenly said, grabbing Leslie's attention. As she turned her head towards Clara, the woman giggled. "I know, I don't look like it. A healthy mind needs a healthy body, muffin. So, how old are you? Six? Seven?"

I don't look that young, Leslie thought for a moment, eyeing Clara warily. "I'm ten."

Clara lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? No wonder you didn't want me to know you still peed your–"

"I didn't," she insisted, another tear falling, she sniffled.

Fuck! She wanted to scream at Clara, but this situation didn't call for her flip out. Instead, she needed to get away from Clara, and to do that, she needed to calm herself. But that wasn't easy, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Yes you did and interrupting me isn't going to change that, pup. I'm trying to be civil here and I don't need some eight year old–"

"I'm–" Leslie started, but Clara put a hand on her mouth.

"With a potty mouth interrupting every second sentence I speak. I'm not the type of person where you should test out your borders. And, in case you're as dumb as you look, let me tell you something funny. The next time you interrupt me, you're going to strip those pants off, walk to the fountain and do a little dance so everybody can see your widdle diapees, understood?"

Her voice was stern and her eyes burnt with a quiet fury. Worse yet, Leslie nodded, because she knew that she would do it. Why was this place so damn cold?

Clara smiled and lifted her hands. "Now that we've established the dominance in our relationship, butterfly, how about we do proper greetings. I'm Miss Sanchez, and what's your name, honeybun?"

"L-Lee," she blubbered out.

Then, for a brief moment, there was a shift in Clara's face, a flash of anger, but she regained her composure immediately. Was it the name that incited her, or that she actually had managed to make a child cry?

Leslie wiped her tears away with her sleeve, while Clara's arm still rested on her head, as if she wanted to keep her in place. It took a moment longer and then she finally decided to get it off of Leslie's fiery mane.

"Your parents are probably waiting for you, huh?" Clara asked.

A chance! She thought and nodded quietly.

"I figured as much," Clara said and suddenly her expression changed again for a moment, but this time it lasted. Her eyes widened, as if she just thought of something she'd forgotten. "You'd probably tell them that I bullied you, now that I think about it," Clara said, sounding curious. "No, wait, except you're going to do the whole dance routine if you do tell them, okay?"

I'm alone here, was the first thought that popped up and the second was; Why is she so sure I would do that?

Was it possible that Clara had gone to the site, too? The idea came suddenly, but Leslie couldn't help but stare at how sure of herself Clara looked, like embarrassing this kid was the story she'd tell her grandchildren many years in the future. This fucking bitch, Leslie thought to that, remembering the days when she had called Clara a friend.

But if she'd gone to the site, then she must've given a wish. Was mind control a thing you'd wish for when you had one wish sure to be granted? How many people wish themselves close to thirty years younger? The rhetoric was the answer she needed.

Clara had turned herself into a supervillain, because of course she had.

"Why aren't you nodding?" The woman suddenly asked and Leslie realized she just missed her chance. "You're here with your parents, aren't you?" She sounded incredulous now.

This would be the final opening, Leslie realized, and so she nodded. "I already said I am," the child said, almost defiant, which only seemed to worsen Clara's mood.

"Alright, then you got the message. Well, toddle off to them," the woman told her and waved with her hand, dismissing her.

Yet Leslie stood there, transfixed. The thought that she couldn't walk to them crept up on her. She'd lost them far too long ago and even their faces had long since vanished from her memories. So all she could do was stare at Clara, who in turn seemed to wait for her to act, but realized after a moment longer what was going on. The woman rolled her eyes and giggled ever so slightly. "A potty mouth, a liar, and a little tinkler. It's like you were made to screw with me," she told Leslie, her voice monotonous and cold.

Nevertheless, she got down on her knees to look Leslie directly in the eyes. "I wonder if you lied about your age, too, or your name. Let me try something out. If you lied about your panties before, how about you," she put her index finger to the mouth and thought for a moment, "suck your thumb."

First came a thought to justify why it was right to do it and then the thumb was already in her mouth as she stared dumbly at Clara. The tears kept rolling from her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to run.

"If you didn't lie about your age, take it out again."

She did, though drool dripped from it. Her stomach decided that was the appropriate moment, to announce that it was hungry. It made her feel even worse, like the knowledge that she was hungry would give Clara an even bigger advantage over her.

"And lastly, if you lied about your–", Clara stopped, looked behind her, then sighed. "being hungry," she suddenly said, her voice much softer, "then we can just go to the restaurant. It's no problem, princess."

Then she turned her head slightly and greeted a woman passing by who didn't even acknowledge her, like any person with the least bit of sense should do when meeting Clara. She took it with as much grace as she could and silently threw a curse at the woman.

"Alright, then, pumpkin," she said, looking at how Leslie tried to look like she wasn't crying and failing somewhat miserable at that. "Stop with the tears," Clara ordered and the need to weep vanished from her head, leaving her with only embarrassment and contempt, of which the second was still strong enough to keep her head somewhat in the game.

"And now," Clara said leaning close to Leslie, "considering that you lied to me about your parents, you'll stick around with me for a bit. You're alone here, I figure, so you might as well follow me around. I'll treat you to some food and I teach you all about honesty and how it's the path to happiness." Though her breath smelled of mint, her voice did nothing to ease Leslie's state of mind.

She wanted to cry, but no tears would come, and it was cold too.

Clara took the bag off her and made Leslie take her hand. They walked out there looking like they belonged together. Even though it should've been clear that Leslie had cried, nobody paid any attention. Everybody was living their lives and she was stuck with this psychopath. If she would yell out, somebody might notice, but she wasn't sure how Clara would react. Hell, if this mind control theory of Leslie's was true, she didn't even know how Clara could react and there was no need to test it out. One thing the woman had told her was true, Leslie did not want to try to stretch the boundaries.

As they walked through the crowd, Leslie felt the padding between her legs. It wasn't much, it didn't impede her walking at all, and yet she felt as if the whole world could see them. That thought made her feel even worse, like she shouldn't take another step and check her pants again. Yet she wore a jacket that was much too large, so nobody would notice and she didn't need to worry.

Her thumb was still a bit wet from when Clara made her suck her thumb, or at least she thought it was. Now that she thought about it, it would've been calming, at least a bit, if it hadn't involved Clara, that just made her want to hack off her thumb now. All in all, Clara appeared awfully determined to ridicule her. Leslie eyed her from the side, tried to figure out what was going on. She didn't know, but nevertheless, Clara's face was motionless as they waded through the crowds. It was the sort of face Leslie knew Clara made whenever she was thinking about something, but the question was what she thought about. If she had an answer, then maybe it would help her out of this situation without escalation.

It's like you were made to screw with me, Clara had said. What was that about? She looked at the woman, then at the uncaring masses. Nobody would care, no matter what she asked. So long as she kept it down, there wouldn't be a scene. Nobody would get hurt just because she asked some things.

She opened her mouth, but immediately closed it again. Just blurting out questions won't do, she assumed. First off, she was pretty sure Clara was what the website called a Wishmaker, but at the same time she also knew that with the way her thought patterns were working themselves, a normal person probably wouldn't think that something supernatural was happening here. She didn't want to cry, even though she was scared and Clara had done her best to make this day suck for her, so, if she were a kid, she might tell herself that the lady was maybe nice and maybe took her out to get some food not just for some queer punishment, but because she just figured out that Leslie was an orphan.

"I didn't lie about my name," she finally stated, to get that out of Clara's mind. "So you don't need to do anything about that."

Clara shot her a look, then turned onwards again. They walked straight into the café at the center of the mall. The inside of it was made to look like it was from some old time, probably 19th century, or early twentieth. Leslie wasn't sure, but then again, history had never been that interesting to her. Either way, they sat down by a window from which they could see the fountains, where faceless figures poured water down old stone.

"Lee, then," Clara said quietly. "You look quite scared of me."

She seated herself opposite to Clara, though with the difference in seating, she mostly just stared at the breasts of the woman. Nevertheless, she took of the jacket and threw it over the backrest. "A bit," she answered.

Clara put her index finger to her mouth, as she always did when she tried to figure out what to say next. "Well, I wouldn't scare you so much if you were more honest. Adults appreciate honesty," said the woman whose house and life were built on lies and petty fibs.

A waitress came and Clara did all the ordering. Leslie just watched her, how her every move seemed trained to be as elegant as possible, how she complimented the waitress on her hair and how they both laughed at a joke she made. Water fell from faceless stones outside, but nobody cared about how much damage it had already done.

"Now then, Lee. I spotted some shoes in your bag, which do seem too big for a sweet little kid like you," she said, the sarcasm well hidden behind the last few words. "What's the story with that?"

Leslie looked at her and realized the threat behind what she'd said before. If there was another lie, there would be a punishment. You did the same thing when I never lied to you, Leslie thought bitterly, But if you want to play this game, then sure, I'll play along.

"I didn't have any others," she said and as Clara leaned on her arm, she continued on. "My old ones were too small and they broke, so," for a moment she didn't know what to say, so she averted her eyes, bit her lip. The idea came sudden, but she thought it brilliant. "I took ones from a neighbour."

"You took one from a neighbour?" Clara asked doubtfully.

"I live in Fairhills," Leslie answered in such way that it sounded like it answered everything.

Which it did, judging how Clara looked at her with an expression that said "this explain everything," and looked at her jacket. Fairhills was regarded as the worst of the city's districts by a mile, and a person such as Clara, who shunned any places that didn't live up to her standards, probably believed all the prejudices she had about that place. An orphan stealing shoes from a neighbour, at least, seemed a plausible story. Well, whatever fucking works.

"So, you took those shoes and the jacket, uhm, walked here and got new ones?"

Leslie waited a moment, made an effort to look at her own legs, dangling from that chair, and only after three seconds, she nodded and meekly replied. "Yeah," to which she then added, "but you're not going to tell the cops, right? I'm gonna put everything back where they belong."

Clara shrugged. "As long as you do, it should be fine. And if you're not, well, you could pat your head three times now."

Leslie sat there, thinking how she was just going to put them back with her other shoes. She smiled at Clara like she just won the lottery, which seemed to annoy the woman ever so slightly, so Leslie stopped doing that quickly.

"That's good. Now, then, I wonder what else I could ask you. …"

"I didn't mean to screw with you," Leslie threw in quickly, trying to look apologetic while gauging Clara's reaction.

The woman looked at her quietly for a moment, then chuckled. Leslie hated it when she chuckled. "You mean what I said back then? No, it's just, I have this thing. I know another girl, a bit similar to you."

What?

"She's a bit older, but," Clara stopped for a moment, her finger moving along her lower lip. She sighed and then looked Leslie straight in the eye. "You have the same red hair she does, though she probably wouldn't walk around with a bedhead like you. She's got quite the mouth, too, which is really a bad trait. You should rather speak like I. I am an inspiration to everyone I know, after all." There was no irony in her voice, Leslie noticed and wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she forced herself to nod along. "But the thing that struck out is that she's got a similar," Clara looked around, as if she wanted to at least appear careful. Then she came in closer and whispered, "problem," leant back and smiled, "as you."

Oh my shit. You're talking about me like a kid? Leslie asked in the back of her mind, but did not know whether she should be insulted or not. That Clara didn't take her seriously had always been clear, but this felt like a new low. But instead of saying anything she just continued her stare downwards and let the flush on her face do its work.

"Well, she has more spunk than you, I've got to admit, but then again. … Leslie's Leslie, you are you. Not that it matters. You remind me of her, but don't take it to heart, I won't either," Clara said with a smile on her lips, but there was the faintest hint of disgust on Clara's face, too. Leslie knew at that moment that she was lying.

She's continuing her talk with some goal in mind, she considered, This might just be a test drive for her ability.

As the food was delivered, they sat there quietly. Clara got herself a large pot of coffee and a croissant, while she'd been thoughtful enough to buy Leslie some pancakes. The cream formed a smiley face and she even got complimented on being a "cute, little tyke", which was something at least. Though her own pot of cocoa seemed absurdly large from her point of view. Nevertheless, it was free food and drink.

"Thanks for the meal," Leslie said, taking the fork.

"Wait one moment," Clara answered, holding up her hand. "I forgot one thing."

She got up and walked over to the counter, to where the waitress had also retreated. Leslie eyed Clara suspiciously. Every movement was meant a seduction, but for whom, Leslie couldn't say, but at least the sway of hips that accompanied Clara's every step looked funnier than the woman realized.

Leslie giggled, fully aware that Clara probably wanted to do something to humiliate her a bit. Maybe she was going somewhere with this punishment thingie she just came up with. Either way, Leslie was quite impressed that Clara would abuse a random child just because it was a vague reminder of her nemesis. At least in that regard Leslie felt happy, because if she hadn't gotten Clara's attention, it would've hit some other sob and who knew what she'd have done to them.

Clara returned with a smile on her face and something large in her hands, a paper of sorts, except that Leslie pretty much immediately figured out what was going on. She wanted to roll her eyes, but forced a curious expression on her face.

"Sit still," Clara ordered, enjoyment oozing from her voice.

Leslie would've let it happen anyway, but at least she didn't need to use her non-existent acting skills to fool Clara. The bib was large enough to cover her chest and she noticed the staff giggling as they looked at her. What a gorgeous baby girl, she thought, sarcastically.

"Now, aren't you gorgeous, and now you won't ruin your shirt, too," Clara said with a coo and pinched Leslie's cheek.

"I don't need a bib," she answered, but didn't move an inch.

"Well, we're going to see about that," Clara said as she sat down. "Here's what you're going to do. I want you to eat everything as messily as you can, kiddo."

A smile was on her face, a vicious, self-congratulatory smile. Leslie clenched her teeth, but in her mind she knew that the knife and the fork were too much for a kid her age anyway, so it was fine. It was a bitter pill to swallow, sure, but she decided to do her best anyway and finally dug in.

Clara took every bite with care, while Leslie put more in her mouth without bothering to swallow. Pieces fell from onto her chest and as she went to wash it down, half-the cocoa landed on her bib. Clara looked at her with a sigh and shook her head, before she went back to her coffee. In all honesty, even though she'd expected this sort of thing, Leslie soon wanted nothing more than to vanish into the ground, but not because of Clara. Other people were looking at her, too, giggling, joking. The waitress who served them appeared surprised behind her counter, but at the same time looked glad that Clara had thought about the bib.

She burnt with a furious red after she finished, only for Clara to take a towel and wipe her clean. "I want you to learn from this," Clara said, "Some people you just don't lie to."

It wasn't a good life lesson, but she didn't want to say that. She'd finished the food and the drink, was even sure most of it had landed in her stomach, at least that's how she felt. A full stomach was better than an empty one, but how Clara made a spectacle out of her was far from fine. Even free food couldn't pay for this.

"Now then, kiddo," Clara said, taking her things after she paid the bill. "I think this was educational enough for you and me both. The next time you're in kindergarten or whatever, do remember to tell when you need the potty."

Her smile was there again, so happy was she with herself. Leslie just stared at her, hesitated. "You're just going to go?"

"Yup," Clara answered. "I've wasted enough time with you. But I guess I could leave you with one final gift, just to see."

She walked over to the still seated Leslie, who wasn't quite sure what would happen next. Clara smiled, leaned down and whispered sweet little words into Leslie's ear. A test of ability, a lone siren's chant. As Leslie grabbed her things and stormed out again, Clara laughed loudly, as if she just told the girl the funniest joke in the world. Yet the one thing Leslie had learnt from this encounter was that she didn't want to go to the mall anymore.

 

  • Like 1
Link to comment

 

Chapter 6
Red Paint On A White Canvas


Fuck this, fuck Clara and fuck this fucking fuck! Fuck!

Leslie sprinted past every person in the mall, the words Clara had whispered still resounding in her ear. They carried a weight with them, in such a way that they seemed irrefutable for her mind. I tried to be that bitch's friend, Leslie thought, eyes low, fists trembling. Why did I ever?

She wasted another fifty cents just to have the privilege of using the public bathroom. Why do I even need to pay for my fucking needs? she wondered as her teeth ground against each other.

Maybe she should've been thankful for the chance of privacy, but to Leslie, it didn't feel worthwhile. As she entered the room she looked at the faceless mass of women and girls waiting in a neatly line for their chance to do whatever they'd come here for. Leslie mouthed a silent curse as she stepped towards the line, kept her eyes low and balled her fist. She noticed how her hands shook and as she finally stopped moving, she felt a pair of eyes watching her from afar. Shivering, she turned around, looked at the gateway she'd come through, only to find nobody behind her. Words resounded in her ear, a voice sharp as a knife, eyes that pierced through her like bullets. She's not here, Leslie told herself. She wouldn't do more. She wouldn't.

As she turned to face forward once more, she catched a girl in the mirror. A small thing, her hair a mess, with puffy eyes and remnants of tears' tracks running down her cheeks. Leslie shook, the jacket wrapped up in her arms. She suddenly found herself shivering. Pulling herself into a hug, she kept her eyes low and waited. She heard a young girl ask her mother how long would take, that she needed to go; someone else wrote a message on their phone, giggling at whatever happened on the screen. Leslie found little comfort in her own arms, but she kept her breath steady, even though she didn't want to. There were no tears running down her cheek. I'm a grown-ass, fucking woman, I'm not going to cry in public. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!

Shoes stepped on the ground, clacking filled the room and the line begun to move, only to halt a second later. The girl in the mirror was shivering, her lips were trembling, but there would be no tears. She gulped down a lump in her throat, bit down on the trembling lip. I won't, Leslie told herself.

Shoes stepped on the ground, clacking filled the room as they moved towards the line. Eyes were on her, grim and hateful and cursing her very existence. They were on her and the girl in the mirror stiffened. The steps halted right behind Leslie, but no words were spoke. Yet she knew that the woman was smiling. But Leslie wasn't trembling and she certainly wasn't going to cry. Her arms grasped at each other, her fingers dug into the fabric of the jacket, but she wasn't cold and this wasn't going to continue. Her lips moved as she tried to tell herself something, boost her confidence, but no words came out. Sweat ran down her brows, but the girl in the mirror, Leslie, she turned around, slowly, slightly. She would face her, no matter what would happen next.

Blonde hair fell down the woman's shoulders, her nose was too small for her face and her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as she gave a silent curse at the woman's bathroom. A stranger to Leslie, whose bite loosened. She felt the pain on her lips, felt something swell up, warm and soft. As she licked it, it tasted like iron. The woman noticed the girl before her and tried to offer a smile, though hesitant and fake. Leslie immediately turned around, quick as she could.

She licked the blood off her lip and cautiously eyed at the woman before her. Her back seemed huge and she made no motion to turn around. The one behind Leslie hadn't noticed the bit of blood or simply didn't inquire about it. Either worked for Leslie, who looked back at the ground, hugging herself and wondering.

What would've Clara done to her if she hadn't wished herself younger?

To that woman all she'd been was a child that happened to have the same red hair and the same freckles as Leslie Audet and that was all the reason she'd needed to. …

She bit on the wound, only for the stab of pain to remind her of it. She heard somebody else enter, closed her eyes, hoped. Then the line began to move again, ever so slowly. As quiet as she could, Leslie moved stepped Second after second passed, the line moved again and so did the girl with it. The complaining kid finally got her stall, the woman with the cellphone nearly walked into an opening door. The white on the walls here was slightly stained, she noticed in the spur of a moment. A slight line of dirt above one of the mirrors, unnoticed by the cleaning personnel and the customers too. She decided to not notice it too and went on to finally do what she came here to do.

As she took another step forward,as she was finally the one to get into the next free stall, the girl felt her stomach turn, felt how her legs turned weak. She wanted to turn around,to check whether Clara was there, but she couldn't draw attention to herself. She mumbled words of encouragement, told herself that she could do it, that it would go well. You're not scared of her, Leslie thought, while the cold struck at her again. You're not fucking scared of her!

Finally, she got a stall of her own. The moment the door swung open she started moving, pushing herself past the girl that left she closed and locked the door in a heartbeat. Then she stood there for another second and the sounds around her sprung to a live she hadn't really noticed before. Someone was whispering a joke to the person in the stall next to her, who in return tried and failed to stifle a laugh; someone else used the roll of toilet paper in an excessively noisy way, and Leslie just remained by the door, leaning against and staring at a bowl of white, generic ceramic. There were some political stickers on the wall, proclaiming things that were denied by others, some even outright attacked people of varying schools of thought. Leslie looked at them, felt the blood trickling down her lip and chin. She looked, down, her arms hidden beneath the rolled up jacket, the bag grasped tightly in a hand that couldn't be seen. I look like an idiot, Leslie thought with a bitter smile.

For a moment she remained like that, still, quiet, letting nothing get to her. Toilets were flushed, people moved and the cold clung to her like a parasite. For a moment, she stood there and looked at the stickers on the wall, not reading them, not seeing them. Her vision became blurry. Strange, Leslie thought, imagining the girl in the mirror, and closed her eyes. She choked up, but quickly pressed the jacket against her mouth. Soft fabric touched her lips and grey wool soaked up red blood, if only a drop or two. Tears ran down her cheeks only to end their tracks on the fabric. The girl without the mirror wanted nothing more than to scream, to fall on her knees, to be somewhere else. She bit her lip, even though the wound stung. She stood, even though her legs were jelly. She opened her eyes, and decided that she wouldn't lose.

Leslie wiped the tears off her face and took a piece of paper from the roll to press against her lip, then she put both the jacket and the bag down. She took a step forward and lifted the lid to take a look at the water. The water was transparent and the inside the bowl was clean, not even a hint of urinary stone on its edges. Truthfully, it looked better than the one at Leslie's home. She clutched the jacket tightly, looked at this thing, this rotten piece of everyone's day-to-day life. I'm not afraid, right? she wondered, her hands shaking and her lip hurting. She can't do anything to me, right? She's not really capable of controlling my actions. She can't do anything, she can't just fucking screw with me. I'm still me.

Her eyes wandered down again and stared at the pants she wore. They were boring, blue jeans whose most distinguishable feature was the absence of proper pockets, which were a luxury for women's clothing anyway. Asad leant it to me, dumb shit that I am, she thought, tried her hardest to remain quiet, tried to remain steady. Her hands, they did not seem to listen, shuddered as she wanted them to move. Her eyes were fixated on the zipper, her mind was focused on the pain, the blood and the sardonic smile Clara had given her.

Just do it, she ordered herself and her fingers twitched and edged closer to the edge of her pants, slowly. All she needed to do was. …

She bit her lip, harder than before. Blood trickled down her chin as she stared at her reflection in the water. Tears ran without end, she barely kept herself from making a noise. You can't be afraid. She can't control you. I can do this. I can! she told herself, repeating the lines in her head over and over again, all while staring at her pants.

All she needed to do was. …

Leslie couldn't remember. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…

There she heard it, in the farthest depth of her mind, a voice sharp as a whip, reverberant with contempt, whispering to her a truth she didn't want to accept. Yet it was a fact, it was what she knew, nothing more. Her fingers trembled but she knew not what motions to make, what action to take. It was a truth in her head now, a truth that hadn't been there when Asad had given her the clothes, had trusted her with them. No, she thought, her eyes fixated on the pale and trembling hands of a child she saw in a mirror. One step back she took, her back hit the wall with a small thump. All the noise around her blurred out of existence as she stared at the toilet.

"This has got to be a fucking joke," she mumbled to herself and grabbed the jacket.

As it unrolled itself in her arms, she just stared at it for a moment and tried to figure out how to put it on, but her thoughts all ended in the same dead end. I can't do it.

It was a statement she made with a conviction she didn't want to have. She was cold, she was alone, it was too quiet. What if Clara had finally come? What if she made her do all the things she threatened before. Leslie's heart hammered against her chest and sweat ran down her brows. Her lip quivered and more tears wanted to escape her eyes, but the girl tightened her fists and gulped down another lump in her throat.

I need to leave, she told herself, but her legs were too weak to move. If she finds me she might figure me out.

Her chest felt heavy and her eyes stared at the bag, the pair of panties she'd already ruined. I can't stay, Leslie Audet thought, or she's going to swallow me whole.

She couldn't put the jacket on, not with the truth Clara had shared with her on her mind, but she threw the thing over her shoulders. If it couldn't serve as a proper jacket, it could at least offer some protection as a cape. Then she grabbed her bag and turned around, looking at the door. For a moment she considered opening it, but quickly turned around and flushed the toilet.

As she left the stall she felt the eyes on her, cold and distant. Someone spoke, but she couldn't quite make the words out. Were they talking about her? She tried to get a glimpse at the people here as she moved towards the basins, but found only strangers caught up in their own business. Not a single one looked at the girl with the face ruined by tears and the lip bitten bloody.

Her hands were washed and somewhat dried as she left the public bathroom, though some last droplets fell to the ground. She didn't notice, and as she left her mind was set on other things. Shifting her eyes, the girl took step after step, carefully looking around. A woman in the corner of her eye moved in a familiar way, but as she turned to look it was but a stranger. That was what they all were, Clara wasn't here anymore, she wouldn't do anything to her anymore. Not if I move quick enough.

Her feet moved almost on their own. As she walked, Leslie didn't quite feel like it was her that stormed across the mall, one hand grabbing a bag filled with contents she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see and her shoulders draped beneath a grey jacket. Eyes flashed past her, their intents so different from one another. Some judged her for what she'd done in the washroom, in the restaurant, for what she couldn't do anymore. Some smiled like there was nothing to worry about and others just looked straight forward, fixated on a path the girl couldn't hope to grasp. Leslie was but a moment in their lives, walking past them without making any impact. First she appeared, then she left and nothing would change.

A familiar voice resounded in the distance, but she didn't know to whom it belonged. Leslie didn't want to know, so her steps quickened. She went past ancient statues from whom water dipped aplenty, she walked past the pharmacy with the condescending clerk and out into the open world.

Snow touched her face and the freezing wind embraced her softly, running through her jacket like it wasn't even there. Yet only the girl she'd seen in the mirror shivered, not she. One step followed after another until her feet halted and her eyes looked up at a red man who glew so brightly. Come on, she mumbled as she stared at the street light, come on.

Red turned to green and she continued her walk. The mall was behind her, the distance grew and grew and grew and the loud noise of it was replaced by the sounds of the city. The roaring motors of cars driving by were as much a companion now as the conversations of the people who walked past her. She didn't care about either, was the truth of it. The cars rushed past her, the people laughed and talked and all ignored her. One step followed the other, snow fell down on the city and snow crunched beneath her feet.

She mumbled words to herself, shook and bit her lip. She's not here, she's not here.

Eyes of strangers followed her, but only when she didn't look. Every time her eyes peeled themselves off the ground she was alone amidst the many again. Clara wasn't following her, she told herself. Everything was going to be fine.

One step followed the other and she felt the padding against her thighs. What if she needed to use the toilet? Leslie didn't even want to know the answer to that sudden question and decided to turn her attention elsewhere, away from the mall and Clara and her twisted truths. The train station was right before her, finally, and only the stairs stood between her and this rotten episode's end.

Leslie didn't know why, but she turned around to look at the mall again. Starstone … She wished something like that would crash into this place right now. Once more her sight became blurry and as she closed her eyes tears fell down, brushing against her cheek and coming close to freezing. "Fuck," she mumbled and wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt, Asad's shirt.

Her eyes turned back to the mall then and she wondered once more. "Why would she do something like this?"

You remind me of her, Clara had said, her smile cold and calculating.

It wasn't an answer to Leslie's question, or at least she didn't want to think it was one. Clara was a bitch, but she couldn't be that low a person. Right?

Hopefully Clara would get to work or do something else. I don't need to worry, Leslie told herself and turned back to the stairs. I'll just go home and then I figure out what to do next.

Yet taking the stairs felt hard and every few steps she turned around. The city had come alive with faces she didn't know and people who didn't know hers. Yet, with all these people around she might just be a bit safer. It was a hopeful thought and one she used to give herself some strength, at least enough to walk forward again.

It would be noon by the time she got home was the first thing she gathered just from looking at the station. An old clock was plastered on the farthest wall, large hands of rusty iron moved at a constant pace, though they contrasted the wall, which seemed to be freshly painted.

Her eyes went away from the clock as she placed herself on the platform where her train would soon arrive. Once more she tried to get a look at who else was there, or rather who wasn't.

A pair of male teenagers, wearing the uniform of that really fancy school all the rich people sent their kids to, stood silent, trying to look intimidating for whatever reason. An old lady talked with her dog as it tried to stand up and lick her affectionately. Then there was an older gentleman in a business suit, he had the most magnificent mustache Leslie had ever seen. Not a single person she knew, not a single person who knew her. I'm okay. I'm okay now.

Minutes went past and the clock hands moved on in their eternal circle. It was much warmer here than up in the city, yet Leslie couldn't help but hug herself. She hoped it would stop herself from shivering, yet the cold's grasp seemed inescapable. Was it just because she was outside? Was it her body? To Leslie it seemed like her body seemed to just take every opportunity to feel more miserable. She didn't even need that. I'm so going to make myself some hot noodles or some shit like that.

"Fuck," she mumbled.

At least she could voice her concerns a bit. Nobody paid any heed to the girl and considering the whole mall thing had been ruined by one person giving her more attention than she ever wanted, this was fine.

The train came and she entered along with some others, but she didn't pay anymore attention to them. Instead, she just placed herself by the door and hoped that nobody would talk to her. That's how she'd done it for so long and that's how she would do it again. She found it almost funny that it was, once more, Clara's fault. Why that woman would hurt a child for looking like her was far beyond Leslie, but it couldn't matter anymore. Don't dwell on it. All you gotta do is avoid her, kiddo. Like, it's a whole city between you and her.

Her mind wasn't so easily put at peace, but she tried to distract herself by paying more attention to the window in the door. The tunnels were dark and with the light of the train shining from behind her, she could only make out very little. When she'd taken her first train ride, Leslie wondered whether the network expanded far beyond where the trains rushed along. Movies, books, whenever there was a canalisation or tunnels to be had in fiction, they seemed to be like labyrinths beneath the city.

That was a thought, hundreds of tunnels intertwined beneath a city thriving on ignorance. Maybe there were even mole people there, or mutants, hiding from the sight of normal people. She figured they kept rats as pets and lived on a diet of mushrooms, canalisation alligators and mutant goats. And they were also the ones that made sure the rails and the tunnels remained in perfect shape, while the conductors figured that paid workers repaired all the broken things down here.

She found herself giggling for a second. How stupid an idea that was, people living beneath the city. Yet it brought her the relief she looked for and made breathing a bit easier. Once more Leslie looked around, once more she found that Clara wasn't there. She was fine.

Setting down the bag, Leslie got out her phone. Not a single person called her, not one message was sent to her, which left her open to check the site out again. Maybe it could help her figure out what had happened.

The pink background lit up and she found herself staring at the blocks spelling out the word 'Welcome' once more. The cartoon of her child safe remained where she was before, only this time her hands were behind her back, blush patches were on her cheeks and she bit her lip.

The text beneath the figure was also changed: "Leslie Audet, A Child Again, Obediently Follows The Auntie's Commands."

Even her mind drew a blank at that statement and she just stared at the screen. It took Leslie a moment to properly judge the words for what they could mean. "Well, fuck you too," she mumbled as an answer.

Also, 'auntie'? She found a smile forming on her face. Her lip hurt, the jacket wasn't helping much against the cold and the moment her digestion was done she would probably not be able to go to the toilet. If the site thought that making her be like this qualified Clara for the title of 'auntie' then whoever wrote this probably had a sick sense of humor.

Her mood soured again, she put the phone away and spent the rest of the ride waiting for the name of her station to come up. Her thoughts drifted back and forth, were stuck between the girl in the mirror and Clara's smiling face. The words on the site irritated her, like she had any choice in the matter. Like she could've done anything differently. There'd been a force to Clara's word, it simply had to be supernatural.

The moment the letters of her home district rolled up on a wall sprayed with graffiti of gangs that probably didn't even really exist she practically stormed out of the wagon. Leslie just wanted to get home, even though her radiator wasn't working properly and she'd just wait for the inevitable. Yet it was where she was sure nobody would reach her and nobody would make her do anything else she didn't want to. One step followed the other and soon she reached the outside world again.

Soon enough the cold gnawed at the ends of her ears as she made her way through a light layer of snow. This district was far from alive; a man shoveled snow close to the train station, a police officer checked on the cars parked in the area and an elderly man walked his dog on the other side of the street from her. Fairhills, she thought, her beautiful home. Quiet and grey and cold it was. So damn cold, her teeth chittered and her legs shook. Even though her hands were buried beneath the jacket she could barely feel them anymore. Leslie was sure that it was only getting colder the longer she took. Not much longer, Leslie thought.

She would've loved for the sun to touch her face, for some bit of warmth. Faces of strangers watched her walk along the road from the windows. Leslie felt the padding between her legs, but knew all too well that nobody else was aware of it. Yet she felt herself shaking not only because of the cold. A curse was on her lips and she turned around again, finding that nobody followed her.

A group of boys was on the other side of the road, only catching her eyes for a second. They were six tweens, either skipping school or already done for the day. She figured the former, since the nearest public school's reputation had been in the gutter for quite a while. It made her wonder whether they'd "gentrify" this part of town someday, too. Children like that wouldn't walk through the finer parts of town. They looked rough, more so than before. Leslie was sure she had seen this particular group before, they usually hung around some of more desolate buildings. One of them, some twelve year old with a ridiculous hairdo, puffed a cigarette and made flailing gestures which the other boys laughed at. This was the youth of her hometown. Her eyes rolled almost on their own.

The boy with the cigarette turned, probably had caught her looking. His eyes met hers and for some strange reason, she wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away as fast as she could. Biting down on her lip, she turned around and continued on her path through the silent streets of Fairhills. The streets were ever so familiar, she knew she only needed to cross the street, turn around the next corner and then cross the last street. After that, she was home. She felt the cold moving up her arms, those scrawny things that shook so violently. Yes, not much longer, then she could make herself something warm to drink, lie down and figure out a way to get her pants off. It wouldn't be a problem, she could do it. After all, she was still an adult.

"Hey," a voice said behind her, too deep for a child, but too high for a grownup.

Before she could react she was grabbed by multiple people and dragged off to the side. As they pushed her into an alley, Leslie got a good look at these people who so suddenly attacked her. It was the boys from before.

One of them wore a pair of glasses, stood afar from the rest and looked around nervously. Two tried to look disinterested, while the two closest to the one with the cigarette attempted to be intimidating by making frowny faces and puffing their chests out. The cigarette kid had strategically placed himself at the center, grabbed her with a glove covered hand and stared at her with a haughty smile. She found herself looking up at them, while only trashcans remained behind her. Nobody else but her and these kids who shouldn't have looked as big and strong as they did.

"What're you doing here?" The cigarette kid asked.

She didn't answer immediately and he shook her rather violently. "I asked you a question!"

One of the boys by his side grinned and balled his fist, though his eyes twitched nervously. None of them said anything else however and the cigarette kid tried his angriest look, which looked more pouty than anything else. Was she really going to be scared of this kid?

"I'm walking home. What's it to you?" She asked back with as much confidence as she could muster, but her teeth chittered from the cold.

"The baby's shivering with fe–," started the one on the right only to be interrupted by the group's leader.

"What's it to me? You're walking on my street, kid."

Seriously? Leslie thought, then reconsidered and gave her honest opinion on that statement. "Seriously?" She asked and then she witnessed his facial muscles twitch.

Leslie felt the fist hit against cheek, a blow that came both surprising and more powerful than she had expected from a kid like this. She tumbled to the ground, twisting from the blow and only at the last moment it seemed that her arms finally moved. Her hands reached for the ground as she tried to find some measure of support and so they dipped into the cold white that lay all around them. The girl landed flat on the ground still, her world becoming only the pain the jowls at the cold wetness pressing against her hands and legs.

One of the boys gasped, another said something with a giddy voice. She didn't hear, stared at the white below, wondered what just happened.

"This," the boy started, "this is what you get for laughing at me. This is our turf."

There was a moment of silence. She didn't feel her hands anymore, her heart was bashing against the inside of her chest. What exactly just had happened, Leslie didn't know, but it was bad.

"Listen here," she said, tried to channel her adult self as she stood up. "This street doesn't have your fucking name on it."

She saw his eyes, how they burned with fury and how his face contorted at the perceived insult. Before she could even get on her knees, his shoe hit the side of her ribcage. The pain went through her body and she screamed as she fell.

"Lars," one of the boys said. "She's just a little kid."

He put the cigarette in his mouth and looked at his friends with a smile. "Yeah," he said, "yeah."

She looked at him as he lifted his foot and then it came down on her face. "She's a kid, probably new. Isn't that right?" He said as he pressed her head against the concrete. "You don't know that you don't mess with me yet. I'm not going to be laughed at by girls, you got that?"

She didn't answer and suddenly he kicked her again, to which she responded with another scream. Then his boot landed on her again and again. The ribcage, the stomach, her face. She tried to coil herself up, so he beat against her thighs and arms. For how long she didn't know, but he yelled insults at her and the other boys cheered him on.

Then it stopped and she just heard Lars breathe heavily, while she felt blood running freely from her nose and every part of her body was hurt, snow was touching against the side of her torso, as her shirt was ridden up. Still she didn't move, aside from the shivering. Her hands covered her face, her legs were curled up.

Then she heard it. "Look," one of the boys said, but she barely could process what he could mean. "She's wearing pull-ups."

She heard laughter and Lars voice was the loudest among them. "Sweet jesus, is this kid for real?"

Still, Leslie didn't want to move, didn't want to say anything. She found a lump in her throat again, found tears coming from her eyes. Everything hurt and if she made one wrong move they might hurt her again. One of the boys tugged at her shirt and pants, while the others giggled at her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" spoke a female's voice from the streetside.

The tugging stopped and for a moment there was silence.

"None of your busi–"

"Shut up, Lars. Mike, what is this?"

"S-she," one of the boys stuttered, "s-she started it."

Leslie peeked up from behind her fingers. This indigenous american girl that towered over the boys couldn't have been older than sixteen, but even though Leslie was barely aware of her surroundings, there was a sort of aura of authority surrounding her. It wasn't just that that made her stand out, however. She was dressed in a pink dress and wine red vest, together with a bright red coat, a colorful contrast to the grey and white surrounding her.

"So you decided to beat a kid much smaller than you up?" the girl said, her voice as cold as a shard of ice.

Lars stepped towards her. "This isn't your business, Su!"

"Lars, you're literally beating a girl up where I throw my trash. It's clearly my business now."

The boy tried to make himself taller, but still was at least a head below the girl. Suddenly, he made a grab for his pants and got something out. Leslie saw the metal of a blade flash and suddenly he was pointing the knife at the girl. "It's none of your–"

Before he finished the sentence the girl had let go of the trash bag she'd carried and grabbed the blade tightly, all while staring Lars directly in the eye. He looked at her, then his knife and probably his grip loosened a bit as Su, without a problem, pulled the knife from his hand.

"Go," she said without ever raising her voice and suddenly all the boys except Lars were running.

"My knife," he said meekly, but she just raised her eyebrows and suddenly he thought it better to not try to get it back.

As he stormed off, Su turned her attention to the stranger on the ground. Her expression changed quickly and she dropped the knife before she walked up to Leslie. Gently she put her arms around the girl and got her into a seated position at least. "Hey," she said with an awkward smile, checking the girl. "Hey," she repeated.

"He hurt you pretty bad, huh?" Su then asked and looked directly at Leslie.

There came no answer, all Leslie felt like doing was shaking. She wasn't even really sure what just happened. All she could do was to just sit there, open mouthed, blood dripping from her nose and chin, her arms and legs hurting, the snow up her back.

"Can you tell me your name, kitten?" Su asked, only to be answered by silence again. "Your parent's telephone number?"

Nothing, Su sighed. "Alright, alright," she said and looked around. "I can't just let you stay here. Can you get up?"

After another moment of silence, Su renewed her smile and pulled Leslie's shirt down a bit. Apparently her jacket had fallen off at some point, as Su picked it up and wrapped it around her shoulder. "It's okay now," she told Leslie. "Nobody'll hurt you, okay? I'll get you inside. It's warm there, I'll fix you something to drink and even take care of the bleeding. Kay?"

As she received no answer, the girl just nodded and picked Leslie up, princess style. As she stood up, Leslie felt her head bump against the chest of this girl. It was weird how small she was and it was weird that she couldn't stop the tears and the bawling.

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Chapter 7
Downside Up
 

Cracks ran through the window while the wind whistled through the hole at the center, one that was only covered by a piece of cardboard ever so lightly. The cold permeated the air, she felt down to her bones. Her teeth chittered and she hugged herself. As Su put the gel pack to her cheek she winced instinctively. The teenager looked up to Leslie, as she was kneeling before the younger girl.

Su tried to smile as encouragingly as she could, yet Leslie found herself not strong enough to react.

“At least it dulls the pain, right?”

She ended most of her sentences in a question. Her first reaction after she'd gotten Leslie into the bathroom was to stand there and stare at the child in front of her, utterly at a loss at what she should do. Leslie mustn't have made it any easier, as through out the whole process of being bandaged up, she never managed to stop herself from crying. Where shoes had kicked her the bruises burned. Her stomach, her arms and legs, her face, even the pitiful remains of her pride, she felt like every single piece of her was broken apart now. Biting her lip slightly, feeling the burn of it too, she turned her eyes to the mirror in front of her, where a reflection stared back at her miserably.

Paper towelettes were shoved up her nose, dyed in a dark red tone that implicated that the bleeding still had not stopped. She only felt a light pain to it, but that did not help matters at all. Aside from that, it was clear where the boot had come down on her cheek. The shirt Asad'd borrowed her was torn at the right sleeve, another wound bleeding on it. The sight just added to her want to cry once more.

Aside from her name and some well-meaning comments, Su had given her very little information about herself. Looking at her without someone else threatening her, Su looked more distinctive than Leslie had originally thought. Her black hair she wore in a loose braid that hung from the shoulder and the dress she wore had long, slightly puffed sleeves. Well, aside from that, Leslie noticed easily how the girl's skin looked. There were no signs of acne, no scars, no anything. Even where she grabbed the knife there was no cut. It was the sort of skin most people would envy, so perfect it seemed. Leslie was more astounded by it than she would've loved to admit.

She felt the gel pack press against her cheek again and once more she flinched as a stab of pain ran through.

“On the plus side, they didn't break anything. So you'll be a-okay,” Su said with another awkward smile.

Considering she was the first person today who wasn't cruel to her for cruelty's sake, that comment seemed more like a vile jape than friendly banter. Yet Leslie wasn't really feeling like shedding another tear. Lowering her eyes didn't help the matters. Not only were the wounds and bruises hurting, but red drops were splattered across the front of her shirt and the whole of her side was covered in dirt. Added to that, she felt a pressure buidling up inside of her. It made her at least proud that she didn't have any sorts of accidents throughout the whole ordeal, but dreaded the things to come. She breathed heavily, another sob escaped her. Her throat still hurt from all the crying she'd done until a few moments ago.

“I fucked up,” she muttered quietly. “I really fucked up.”

She felt like crying again, because by god, she shouldn't have left her home today. Yet, even though she kind of wanted to, her body seemed to have spent most its energy and all that remained was that sort of hollow feeling that didn't even blur out the pain. Her lips were quivering, still.

“It's not your fault, kitten. Lars and his cohorts are just asshats who like to pick on kids who are littler than they,” Su answered, still holding the gel pack wrapped in a towel in her hand.

It was clear to Leslie that she wanted to cheer her up a bit, but that didn't change the fact that Su was wrong. After all, wasn't all of this Leslie's fault? She had been the one who decided to go to the mall, to be at that toilet. She was the one who hadn't simply run away, the one who decided to follow and the one who insulted that boy.

A shiver ran down her body, her sight got blurry, she felt herself shrink together. One second like that, the cold of snow and dirt still clinging to her, reminding her of just how horrible a day this had been. Arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders and hands started to stroke her back gently. “it's okay,” Su whispered into Leslie's ear.

The warmth of her body broke through the cold she felt ike the usn's light through a cloudy sky. For the first second, the strange, unfamiliar sensation left Leslie almost in shock, with her first instinct to move backwards, to create some distance. Su held her close, however, and slowly but surely she was allowing herself to sink more and more into the hug. If she was being honest, it was weird having this sort of hug done by a younger person, one who tried to calm her, to make her feel safe. Yet the arms wrapped so easily around her and felt like they were a pretty good shield from whatever pain she did feel.

“There, there,” Su said after a few moments and Leslie had to admit that having someone rub your back the way she did was extraordinarily calming.

Even as Su opened her arms, Leslie, for some odd reason, remained close to her chest, eyes closed, sniffling pathetically. They remained like that for a moment, before Su decided to put one arm around her again and the other on her head, patting it. “Someone's quite affectionate, huh?” Su asked and Leslie found herself nodding.

She wasn't quite sure why she got close to Su, but heavens, did she need the warmth right now. In all honesty, this must've been how changelings in My Little Pony felt when they fed on the love of others. It was so rejuvenating, so sublime. That the cloth of Su's dress felt quite comfortable too only added to her need to stay close to the teenager. This was a better feeling than originally anticipated.

“Thank you,” Leslie whispered.

“Wow, so you can make sounds other than 'uwaa', who'd have guessed?” Su answered lightly.

Leslie found herself giggling at that and looked up at Su with a hint of a smile. The teenager's brown eyes looked at her and she seemed to find some joy in seeing this stranger she nursed in a better mood.

“Alright, kitten, now that we know that you can speak human, can you tell me your name?”

Kitten, that was Su's nickname for her, but she didn't deliver it with the same condescendence Clara had brought to hers, Su made it sound loving, caring. Leslie hadn't known there'd been this nice a kid in this block, but then again, she hadn't really cared much for the people of Fairhills for the past few years. Yet she wasn't sure whether Su knew about her, whether she was more sociable than her. As fingers ran through her hair, she knew that she needed to not say her real name.

“Lee,” she answered after a moment of thought.

Su nodded. “'Kay, Lee, do you have a family name too?”

That made her stutter. “Aude–, I mean King.”

Su squinted her eyes at that and Leslie attempt to dissuade any suspicions with a sheepish smile.

“You don't look like any of the Kings I know, though,” Su told her after a moment.

“That's because girls can't be kings,” was the answer, though Leslie immediately regretted it. She didn't need to antagonize the one nice person here. She'd read enough stories to know where a glib tongue could end you.

“Wow, not only can she cry, hug like a champ and talk, no, she's also a smartass. You're full of surprises, aren't you, kitten?” Su asked bemused.

It was a good reaction, Leslie thought behind her own smile, especially because Su used the chance to ruffle her mane. Su really wasn't a bad person it seemed. Thinking that, Leslie found herself moving. Throwing her own arms around Su’s back, she pressed her face against the teen’s chest. The warmth was unfamiliar, the smell sort of too, but it was all a good kind. It'd been too long since she allowed herself to get this close to somebody, maybe the first time she allowed herself to just do so with a kind stranger.

Su didn't say anything about that, Leslie just noticed that she kept her arms around the younger girl. Neither did she see her face, yet a feeling of safety abound within her.

“You really don’t want to let go, huh?” Su asked.

Leslie nodded.

“Well, I guess after all that you deserve all the cuddles you can get, kitten.”

Leslie found a dumb smile plastered on her face and then, as the last bit of adrenaline faded from her body, exhaustion kicked in and her consciousness grew dim. Exactly what happened, she didn't know. It was like one second she was awake and then, the next, her consciousness alarmed her that she was somewhere else. The first thing that she noticed, the one that made her return from sleep, was a sort of unbearable pressure in her abdomen. It was the sort of pressure every person was familiar with and Leslie shifted where she lay.

As she did, the padding hugging her so tightly served as a reminder she had trained herself to accept over quite a few years. Knowing the pressure, knowing that she was safe, she decided to just let go. It was not a conscious decision, but something she'd made her own over the years. It was a choice that left her feeling the area around her crotch growing wet and warm. She moved her body a bit, felt the pressure relenting, the diaper filling up with more than just urine. For a moment, she felt the release, for a moment she smiled. Then, as her consciousness returned to the world of the waking she realised that the warmth was overflowing, dripping through the safety of what should've kept it in and spreading across her backside, the clothing and what was underneath. It was at that moment the memory of where she dared to nod off returned. Immediately her eyes flung open.

She stared at a pendant lamp that clearly didn't belong to her apartment. Reality hadn't changed to what it once was or changed at all. She felt her arms, the bruises and a bandage around her arm. She knew, just by moving her toes, that she was still stuck in the very same body she wished for the day before. Without ascertaining where she was, she already knew one thing however. Whatever the consequences were, they would swallow her whole.

She lay on her back, covered by a black blanket donned with rebellious slang words of decades past, spread on a sofa that looked not only old, but kind of venerable. Leslie didn't know the style, yet would've guessed it somewhere from the first half of the twentieth century. And, considering the warm wetness around her thighs and back, and from the feeling of a warm mass spread across her behind she'd done more than simply ruin it.

And, as she lifted the blanket, she also found that Asad wouldn't be too happy with how she treated his gifts. She stared at herself for a moment, still, wondering whether this was really happening.

Then, she heard a door opening and turned to the left, where she spotted Su coming in with a light a smile. “Hey, kitten,” she said, yet Leslie only stared at her with an expression as blank as her mind.

There she was, wet and soiled, beaten and bloody, which she might've probably all managed to work around, or so she could've told herself. But the fact was, because reality hadn't changed and everything was as before she'd been beaten down by those boys, Clara was also a person she'd met and the truth that shouldn't be still counted for her. She couldn't get out of this mess, not by herself and honestly, she doubted Su would do anything but throw her out of the door considering how she'd woken up.

“Hey,” she said unsure, hugging the blanket closely, wondering what she should do.

Then the girl in the pink dress came one step closer, then another and Leslie still tried to smile, tried to keep up the facade while her mind raced for answers how to get out of this one. Yet it seemed like certain death coming ever closer.

One moment passed, then another. Her eyes focused on her surroundings, her mind struggled to find something for help. There was a bookshelf, with the actual books hiding behind dozens of pictures. The walls were plastered with memories, with photos and paintings of places and people Leslie didn't know and in the distance, the smell of curry chicken lingered fresh. Nothing of value, nothing she could use.

Then Su stopped, her smile dropped, she sniffed something. Leslie thought of her wish, thought of a thousand stories she read, a thousand outcomes to this whole spiel and came to the realization that the universe really did hate her guts.

“What the–“ Su started, but as soon as the girl in front of her started crying once again she probably realized that helping Leslie was the biggest mistake she made in her life.

For a moment, she lingered and looked at Leslie, not quite understanding that what she thought had occurred actually did, and then, as the truth finally began to sink in she turned around for a second, then back, took a bit of a breath, whispered something to herself. Her steps were quicker, but she tried not to look too hectic as she went to the couch by the wall of her living room. There, before Leslie, she seemed to falter for a moment, as the stink gave her final proof of her suspicion.

“Hey,” she said and her fingers brushed against Leslie's cheek. “I know it still hurts, but you'll get better, okay?”

The girl in pink tried to smile, looked down and made a grab for the blanket, which Leslie still held close. The part Su grabbed however, was more to the side and she still could lift enough of it to see what had transpired. She raised an eyebrow at the mess and turned to Leslie again, who refused to do anything but cry.

“It's fine, kitten,” Su started again, after a moment of contemplation. “I would've advised for a shower anyways.”

As no reaction came, Su struggled to smile and rolled her eyes. “Come on, get up. We both know you need to take a shower now.”

“I don't,” came a meek answer from the girl, who didn't even convince herself with that answer.

“Yes, yes you do. Or do you want to sit in your excrements?”

“I'm not sitting in my own–“

“Lee King,” Su said, attempting to sound authoritative, but the amused smile on her face almost ruined that, “you really should get a shower, because I can’t have you in my space, like, messy. So, if you don’t take a shower, I might just have to throw you out. And kitten, in a town like this, children like Lars are gonna swallow you whole if you walk about with poor body hygiene.”

Leslie looked at her, how she tried to look serious. Whether she truly was, however, was up for debate. For a second, Leslie didn’t answer. For a second, neither said anything, at least until Su spoke up again.

“Plus, if you go into the shower I'm not gonna say anything my sofa or do anything because of it, right?”

That was a more tempting offer than anything Leslie's mind had conjured up and she nodded, relieved at how Su took a diplomatic approach. Nevertheless, as she got up and lifted the blanket off herself, she truly did notice how much of a mess she'd made. The sofa beneath her was soaked and she felt the mess press against her back in a most uncomfortable manner, and the moment the blanket was gone, the smell of it filled the air.

Su, who'd been quite happy about Leslie calming down, blinked at it and smiled at Leslie. “Well, smells like somebody really needed to go potty, eh?”

The truth was, Leslie was flushed already and this only made it worse. Her eyes turned to the ground and she was unsure on what to say, but Su quickly put her hand against her back and pushed her up and forward.

“No dilly-dallying, you need to take a shower, kitten,” she said as she looked at Leslie's back, “more so than you think.”

With a hand to her back, Leslie was led to the bathroom despite her zombie-esque gait. She felt herself shivering again as she took her steps across the floor. The mess pressed against her bottom and the way it reeked made her flush a deep red. Conscious thought returned to Leslie, wondering why she’d gone and done that. Now that Su had helped her, treated her wounds and attempted to comfort her, what was the thanks she got?

She felt tears welling up again. If this was her true path, she figured jumping out of the window would hopefully make for a quick conclusion.

“Hey now,” Su told her from behind, “there’s no need to worry, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she answered dumbly, her eyes drifting downwards.

Su sighed heavily as she opened the door to the bathroom. “And here I thought you took playing pretend really seriously.”

They halted in the middle of the room and Su walked up in front of her, a bit of a smile on her face. Leslie only looked at her with a raised brow, wondering what she meant.

“It’s funny because cats like to fall asleep being close to their owners and also mark their territory with urine and you’re a little kitten in a new territory,” the girl told her sagely.

“That’s not very funny, “ Leslie said, making more of a pout than she intended.

Su shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta have humor, kitten. So now, let’s get you out of those messy clothes and into the shower, humorously. So, arms up, kitten.”

She hesitated, wondering whether she should accept the help. Yet, the moment she even started to contemplate, thoughts of Clara came up in her mind and it appeared more and more that it wasn’t even a question. How else would a kid like her get out of these clothes if not with help?

Her arms went up and Su slipped off both the shirt and undershirt. “Mom’s neighbour leant them to me,” she told Su the moment the air grew cold as ice and the older girl threw the shirt into the corner of the room without a care.

“Really? I was wondering why your entire garderobe was made for giants,” Su answered.

“I liked the colors,” Leslie told her, attempting a smile, but found her teeth chittering instead.

Su sighed. “Well, they do look rather nice on you.”

“Yeah, I look perfect with a little brown on me.”

“Blergh,” Su told her eloquently. “I know your situation’s a bit shitty right now–no pun intended–but you shouldn’t take everything so badly, we’ll have this mess fixed up in a second. We just gotta take those silly pants off and then you’re good to go.”

Leslie nodded, but the moment she felt arms tug at her waist her eyes became wide. The pants slid down and Su got a good look at the pull-ups Leslie wore. She gaped, struggled for words, but it was Su who spoke up immediately.

“These make it look like this isn’t a usual problem for you, Lee,” she said with a bit of curiosity in her tone.
Her mouth opened and then closed itself again, much like that of a goldfish who tried to figure out what glass was and why another goldfish was mouthing it off on the other side of it.

“I–” she said, but her thoughts were more along the lines of; Shit! Shit! Shit!

Su looked at her, she knew. In all honesty, if Su had thought her completely incontinent until this point, this probably raised a flag. And that needed to be rectified, so her mind struggled to find the words.

“I,” she started again and then it clicked. “I … It’s a bit of a usual problem,” she answered, conjuring up what guilt she felt over this debacle to add some credence to the words.

“A bit?” Su answered, the annoyance dripping from her tongue.

A slow nod came as answer and she looked up at Su, who frowned at her. “I–,” Leslie started, but then her mind went blank again.
It was getting a bit warmer now, she almost felt like sweating. Su however, didn’t look quite as receptive to her as one moment ago. “Alright, Lee,” she said, “if that’s true. Why would you get pull-ups. They’re not meant for number twos, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Leslie blushed and looked down again. She knew that, obviously she did and if she hadn’t met that dumb bitch of a witch who enjoyed torturing little children and kicking puppies this wouldn’t even be a situation right at that moment. Eyes on her feet she noticed once more how tiny they were, she almost hoped she was younger than ten, ever smaller, ever more in need of help.

So wouldn’t a child want to be bigger? She suddenly found herself asking.

It was a strange sort of question that popped out of nowhere, yet it gave her the answer she needed, the material from which she could spin her tale. With an awkward motion of her arms, she found herself looking at the pull-ups. They were leaking everything and the bit of padding she felt seemed close to inappropriate for her. In a weird way, it felt almost right that she should be chided for this.

Well, it was definitely right, yet she needed to tell her tale and pretend to be this kid she’d invented on the spur of the moment.

“They’re for babies, though,” came out the answer, the words only as loud as a whisper.

“You thought what now?”

“Diapers are for babies and I’m not a baby anymore and I wanted to wear panties and make mom proud so she wouldn’t kick me out.” The words came out without a breath between them. A cold sensation ran up her spine, like a spider that dug its legs into her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant at all. “I can do fine without them.”

She paused, found her teeth chittering, her lips quivering. “I wet them at the mall.”

There was a moment, Lee found herself close to tears again, only to be stopped when Su embraced her again.

“Sheesh, kid,” she said as Lee smelled her body odor. It was a thousand scents combined to one and it should’ve been more unfamiliar than it was, yet Leslie felt safe in the embrace. “First up, if you needed them until this day, it’s not as easy as wearing panties. Secondly, if you do more than wetting your pants, well … Don’t. Buy. Pull. Ups. You’ll ruin couches and floors and all your neighbour’s clothing. Alright?”

She smiled at Lee. It was an infectious sort of smile, honest and uncaring of the horridness she just saw. It made the child wonder whether this was the first time Su had to deal with a situation just like this, though she doubted it. If the kids in this district were all like Mike, she doubted any of them were incontinent or whatever.

“Alright, now let’s get this dumb thing off, I doubt you’re comfy like this, right?” Su asked, looking down and then at Lee again.
It took one moment before she went on her knees. Her hands were trembling a bit, more so than she wanted to show the girl, but her face was a mask of stone. She tore the sides of the pants open and made a face as the smell hit the room.

“Looks like somebody had a healthy breakfast,” she said, a joke that was clearly more for herself than Lee, who nonetheless giggled despite her own blushing and the cold.
Su looked up at her. “A giggling girl’s better than a crying one, at least. Come on, hop into the shower. You need help with that, too?”
Lee attempted to cover herself a bit more, but shook her head. A shower she could work, that wasn’t as complicated as zippers and sleeves and shoes. Now those were hard for a child like her. She tiptoed into the shower as carefully as she could.

“And don’t worry about the shower gel,” Su said as she threw the garment into the bin and then took out the garbage bag, “just because it’s for adults doesn’t mean it’ll melt little kids.”

“I’m not a little kid, though,” Lee answered, awfully aware of the position she was in.

“Which is why I can pick you up with one arm. But sure, you’re biggest kid I know,” Su answered after she was done rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna have a look around the building whether I can find some other clothing for you and some underwear that’s a bit safer, maybe the Connor’s have something.”

Lee looked at her. “But I can’t wear dia–”

“Well, if you wear them anyways, just consider it cautionary. And if you wanna be an adult, you gotta learn to be cautionary, so take a shower and I’ll find the most mature incontinence briefs this side of the ocean for you. And some clean pants to hide them.”

The girl in red left with those words, a smile on her face that was probably meant to be encouraging. It wasn’t really, but considering her butt was as messy as a garbage pail, Lee didn’t feel like arguing right now. An early shower would help her clear her mind and so she made a grab for the knob to turn on the water.

It rushed down her spine as cold as ice and made her grit her teeth. It would take a while to become much warmer and she wanted to get the dirt off as quickly as she could. Before she began cleaning herself, Lee found herself longing for at least some foaming shower gel. That would be a bit more fun at least.

Thinking that, she opened her mouth and whispered into the quiet, “Lee King.”

There was nothing to that name, an old flame that had spent more time with other girls and boys than with her. Thinking back on what a guy Robert was, he’d tried to get rid of a daughter the moment she couldn’t net him any dates.

“Leslie Audet Junior,” she said, a bit louder. She was more happy with that and the suffix made her name taste of sugar and not ashes.

She didn’t hear it over the water, didn’t see it because she was too focused on the cold, but Su finally closed the door, half-worried about what poor sod of a child she’d gotten herself involved with. Maybe, just maybe, she could brighten her day up a little.

  • Like 3
Link to comment

Two days. I don't have time to read for two days and you put out three chapters?!?! are you trying to kill me? :P

Guess I'll have to review these chapters one at a time:

5: Clara is Killgrave, eh? Interesting choice. Mind control has always been the scariest superpower in my mind.

6: that was intense. I could really feel Leslie's rising panic throughout that whole chapter. But I just gotta say this: Leslie, you're surrounded by a gang of hoodlums in a back ally & your first inclination is to INSULT THEM??? You deserved that beating!

7: Su is nice and all, but WHERE THE HELL IS RICK??? Also I like how, unlike most "wish fulfillment fantasies" this story has multiple Wishers who's fates are all intertwined. We know that there are a total of 7 Wish Makers, but we've only met 4-5 (I think it's pretty obvious Su is one of them, but I don't know that for sure.) It makes for an extremely interesting plot. I just love this story so much! Frostwyrm, You. Are. AMAZING!!!

Link to comment

Glad you're enjoying my tale. I'm basically trying to post 1 chapter per day right now, as I've already written 8 chapters, so it'll slow down a lot from tomorrow onwards.  As for your points, TV Kilgrave opened my eyes to the horror of a limited version of mind control, so he definitely served as an inspiration for Clara. -_-

Anyway, I wanted to write a story wherein people get the chance to have their dearest wishes fulfilled, and centered it around the one person who used it to make her AB-lifestyle a reality, while other people wish for ways to get more power, or actual superpowers, or to have some advantages that makes them enable a better life for everyone. I'm really enjoying digging into the meat the premise presents, although considering how messed up a villain Clara is, I still don't really have a grasp on how dark this story'll go. :unsure: Welp, that's for future me to worry about.

Link to comment
Chapter 8
With Little Fierceness


With little fierceness remaining and warm water dripping from her skin, Leslie Audet finally found herself at some peace. It was fine, she told herself, everything would be fine at last. She turned the shower off, let the last droplets fall down on her head and then from that shaggy red mane of hers. One more breath she inhaled, taking in the smokey warmth as well as the sweet scent of the shower gel. Leslie took her step out of the shower and onto the cold floor. Looking around, she found a small cabinet filled with towels. Taking the one that looked the biggest and fluffiest, she wrapped herself up in it, felt the softness against her skin. It was as wide as a cloak on her, and, if she had any clothing, she'd probably make a convincing super hero or knight or even a wanderer in the post-apocalyptic wasteland. Maybe even everything at once if she could get the proper accessoires.

Right now, as she stepped closer to the mirror and wiped her hand across the glass, her eyes found her face. She looked at best like the last one. There were the bruises which, by tomorrow, would be swollen and ugly. At this moment they only hurt, but still, if she would've had a mother waiting for her, she'd rather avoid going back. Still lingering, she found herself posing in front of the mirror instead of drying off the rest of her body. Drops fell on the ground as a puddle formed where she stood, and yet she remained, threw the towel over her shoulders but kept her arms close to her sides. Her fingers twitched slightly as imagined herself wearing a pair of holsters, the warmth she felt came from the blistering sun of the desert and her opponent was a gritty, old mexican man wearing a joke of a hat. Like she'd seen in these cheesy, incredibly racist old westerns. As the water dripped from strands of her and into her eyes, she found herself smiling a bit. He was as beaten as she was, he, the murderer of her family. The clock would soon ring high noon and this story would finally–

Someone knocked at the door and Leslie froze up instantly, unable to contain the high pitched yelp that escaped from her mouth. Thrown back into reality, her spirits were downed almost instantly. Su was back, she knew, and that made it so much harder to escape the why. Everything that could've gone wrong today did so and now she had decided to play pretend instead of drying herself. The puddle on the ground was more than noticeable. That, the still remaining pain, and the suddenness of the knocking all came together and Leslie quickly found tears in her eyes again. Fuck! Are you kidding me? She thought. Stop crying!

The whole bloody world seemed to have it out for her, but still, would keeping quiet help? Would crying? Leslie didn't know an answer and she doubted there was anyone who would've. And, in the end, did it matter? With all the trouble she brought into a stranger's home, she shouldn't cry and feel sorry for herself. Whatever would happen next, she needed to accept it. Everything hurt, yes, but Leslie decided to answer anyway.

“Yeah?” she asked, trying to keep her sobs at bay.

The red girl's face came through the door. “Is it okay if I come in?” she asked.

Leslie almost wanted to answer, to tell her no, but by then Su was already through the door and walking towards her, a smile plastered on her face and a pile of clothes in her hands. Quietly, Leslie grabbed onto the towel, holding it close. At least she was small enough that it hid everything important from sight.

Su didn't seem to notice her fretting as her attention was immediately drawn to the girl's face. Leslie couldn't stand her eyes locked on to her like that, so she turned her gaze away. Suqi's smile turned into a bit of a frown, if only for a split second.

“Still some tears left, eh?” Suqi said as she stopped. “Well, I don't know if it'll make you feel any better, I got something for you.”

Her looked down as she lifted the pile a bit and Leslie allowed her own attention to shift. Atop the bunch, there lay something that caught it immediately. Small and fluffy it looked, with colorful images making it look that much more charming. It was a strange thought, but at that moment she remembered a story, or maybe a lot of them, where the protagonist would scream and cry and tell whoever offered them diapers that they didn't need them, despite clear evidence to the contrary, or the author's wish for them to end up in them anyway. Some ended in spankings, some with them trying to fight but failing. Few did more creative things, like simple acceptance or coming up with clever bargains, faustish deals that only furthered the protagonist's road downhill. Looking at this thing being held down to her level, it made her think that maybe she should've felt some dread, the weight of a failure pulling her down. Yet, now that she saw the diaper, it was that familiar sense of safety that moved through her instead of the creeping cold. Rick had never given her this, the comfort of somebody else knowing what was good for you, the bit of a smile on their face, as if to tell their charge I know that you need this, and I know that you know. And who would rebel at wearing such a cute thing? Colorful flowers were spread across its front, with smiling bugs and bees all around them. It wasn't quite a baby's diaper, but certainly none of those pull-ups one might've thought more mature. This was it, the thing she wanted, no, needed. A smile grew on her face and, maybe despite herself, the little one whispered; “Thank you.”

Su was taken aback by a minute, not having expected this reaction. “Welp,” she said as she put the clothes to the side. “Looks like somebody's got enough of walking around with their mess dripping all over the floor. Though I do have to ask, if you're this happy about wearing them, why ever bother going about without them?”

The comment, though deserved, made her blush with hellish fury and she doubted that she could lift her head ever again in Su's presence. And even following the question, all she could do was bite her lip in thought. “I,” she started, stumbled over her own words.

Su put her hand on her shoulder. It was by no means a giant's hand. Su could've only been about five foot five, yet to Leslie, it felt so huge and protective. One glance at Su's face made her hopeful that the girl wouldn't just kick her out after all this was done.

“I just wanted to impress mommy,” she said, trying for an awkward smile.

There was a pause. Su sighed. “Shit, Lee, disabilities don't go away because you want to impress your parents. If you wore a prosthetic leg, you couldn't just take it off and pretend you still had two legs. I mean, you could, but it would go about as well as the,” she looked to the door, probably thinking about how much a new couch would cost, “… trip you just made. And to make sure you understand my point, I'm gonna get you clean, dressed up and then we'll go to your mom and you can see why the bible talks about sowing rain and reaping thunder.”

As she heard that, her eyes went wide and she shook her head. Nobody was home, and that was something she really didn't need anybody to know. And what if Asad saw the clothes? What if anybody on the outside did? She wanted to protest, but Su immediately put a finger to her mouth.

“I know what's coming, and I'm telling you, right now, punishment isn't supposed to be a feels-good kind of thing. I'm gonna get you all dry, then I'll help you with the diaper, the clothing, everything. You'll look as proper as you can, then we go to your place, and I'll explain the situation, from how she can reach the parents of the kids that beat you up to why you're wearing boy's clothes now. Keeping my couch and floor in mind, you'll just accept my being nice and be a good little girl. Alright, Leslie Junior?”

There it was and as she heard her name spoken in such a patronising way, or at least that's how she interpreted it, she couldn't help but nod through her blush patches. Su smiled, reached for the towel and pulled it off the girl, who, even revealed before the teen, barely moved. As she was scrubbed from head to toe she couldn't help but look a bit more at Su. This girl was a strange one, previously she'd grabbed a knife pointed at her without flinching, one that had, with a sigh and pause, been able to work with somebody who'd turned out to only be continent in pretend, apparently and still managed to look unnaturally nice for a teenager.

On the other side, Leslie found herself only ever moving when she needed to help. Lifting an arm, a leg, she found out that she was more ticklish than before, but even the laughter whenever Su hit one of her spots she tried her best to contain. All in all, she did try to be a good little girl, as Su had called it previously. It didn't take much, but Leslie still find herself smiling at the perceived irony. God fucking dammit. I always thought I'd be more of a brat, she thought. In spite of that thought, she was quite happy, despite the circumstances, to have somebody fawning over her.

After a minute or so, Su was finally done and looked at her work. “Alright, no more puddles from you,” she stated before muttering under her breath, “I hope.”

She took Leslie by the hand, the clothes in another. Wondering where this would go, Leslie allowed it to happen. She was, of course, buck naked, yet had to admit that she only cared so much about it after being seen in what had to be the worst state she'd been in since forever. It helped that Su's apartment was far better heated than her own, yet the way Su hurried made her less able to appreciate it. Then again, Su thought her incontinent.

They entered the girl's own room, which, of course, wasn't half as plain as Leslie's. No, whereas she always woke to the same boring, downright annoying sight of nothingness, Su had plastered posters of animals on her walls, paintings of inuit mythology and maps of the most northern edges of America. There was a shelf filled with books about all kinds of subjects, from a beginner's guide to the french language to a book concerning the livelihood of, of all beings, kiwis. Atop one shelf there was a collection of tin figures that looked straight out of the Nineteen-hundreds and a few photos that were presumably pulled straight from Su's phone. As they stepped into the room, Leslie could make out quite a few selfies, what appeared to be friends and the like only ever stayed in the background.

Su spread the diaper out on the bed. “Alright, haven't done this in a while, but don't worry, it's probably like riding a bike. How 'bout you lie down on that thing?”

She almost wanted to argue that it would be easier done standing, but, truth was, she had no clue whether that was true. After all, a voice whispered in her ear, she was a kid, she needed the help, needed someone to tell her how to get it right. It was an annoying whisper, but even the parts of her that knew it to be a lie didn't argue, not this time. Right now, she felt the butterflies in her tummy rile up anyway, so she didn't want to ruin this moment. She stepped towards the bed, noticed a stuffed penguin looking at her from behind a carrotesque nose. As she sat down on the bed, one of her hands grabbed it and, lying down, she took a good long look at it.

The feeling of the diaper was familiar, but as she stared into the penguin's friendly face she pretty much rationalized that she didn't want to focus on it, on the process that was about to happen. No, she looked at the penguin, bit down on her lip and hoped Su would start soon.

Which she did, luckily. Su felt the diaper being pulled up instantly, no glamor, no cream, no anything. Still, her hands were shaking.

“That penguin I got in Nuremberg,” Su said as her hands went down by Leslie's left side. “Love the city, love the Lebkuchen.”

“The what now?”

“It's what the city's famous for, it's, erm, gingerbread. Yeah, gingerbread, ever ate gingerbread?”

Leslie nodded.

“Well, you probably never had some from Nuremberg, it's the best. I might just get you some down the road, one day in the future. Personal opinion, but all sweets pale in comparison. And I've been to some fine cafés in france.”

“Were you on a trip through europe?” Leslie asked, curiously. A slight tremble went through her as she felt the first tape come shut.

“Not all of it, just the majority of the western ones. We went from Portugal to Spain, France, Netherlands, Germany and our final halt was in Poland. Every country with its own history and culture. As fun as it was though, I'm never gonna leave home again.”

Su laughed.

“Why?”

“You could give me a life of a thousand years and I would still tell you that,” she leant over to look directly into Leslie's eyes, “bus rides across a continent take for-fucking-ever. Now,” the second tape came shut, “That's it. Luke's about your size, his parents swear on these, so, unless you forget to change 'em, you'll be fine and dandy.”

As Leslie wanted to get up, Su winked at her, as if to give her a sign. What she wanted to tell her, Leslie couldn't imagine, at least until the fingers went down on both her sides. Before she even realized what was happening Su was already tickling away, leaving her to break out in laughter. It was for but a second, before the older girl stopped.

“I wasn't even moving my fingers and you're already dying, huh?”

She shook her head and took up an undershirt. A long-sleeved one, white and boring to look at. Leslie just shifted her gaze between Suqi and the garment, not sure how to handle this.

“Come on, up, up,” Su told her and, after rising, Leslie lifted her arms.

What followed was essentially Suqi dressing her up, no questions asked. Maybe she didn't want to strain the younger girl, maybe she just wanted to get it done. The smile seemed kind and honest, but Leslie remembered Clara smiling like that once upon a time, and that left her with goosebumps running up her back. Nevertheless, the rest of the clothing fit her to a tee, which made them even more amazing, even though the Transformers posing on the front of the red pullover made her think that Su got everything from that boy she mentioned. It seemed awfully kind of the parents to just hand their child's clothing out to Su, even if they knew her. Fairhills wasn't known for its warm community spirit, after all.

The pants were thick cord dyed in a deep blue, but an old stain remained close to the crotch, telling of some food related incident the washing machine hadn't managed to clean, and the knees were worn, with the left one ready to soon tear open. There was a bit of a bulge, and the diaper could be seen when one lifted the shirt up a bit, but otherwise the only real way to notice her protective gear for now was the feel of it.

All in all, as Leslie finally stood there, with all signs of the previous accident gone, she didn't really feel like crying over the bruises anymore. The pullover felt warm, the diaper snug.

“Woah, girl, you actually rock those clothes,” Su commented with an approving nod.

“You think?” the girl asked and twirled around.

There was a moment where there was some movement on Su's face as she did that, but Leslie only caught a glimpse of it. The same old smile was on her savior's face as she finished her pirouette.

“I don't really like transformers though,” she added then, looking at a picture of characters she only barely knew. One of them was called Optimus Prime, right?

“Yeah? What do you like, then?”

“Care bears,” she answered instantly, that being the first thing that came to her mind.

Su raised an eyebrow at that, but then gave an understanding nod after a revelation visibly struck her. “Right, they made a new show recently. Gotta remember that cash cow exist to be molken.”

That's awfully cynical of you, Leslie thought, tilting her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

There was a bit of laughter. “Oh, it's an old franchise, that's all. Been around since before … I was born,” Su explained, though that wasn't really what Leslie had meant to question. “Either way, it's not quite up my alley.”

“Why? It's super cute.”

“Oh, I'm just more into adult movies. You know, the ones kids aren't allowed to watch.” Su told her. “Not that I'm endorsing it, if you're happy with care bears for now that's where you should stay, don't want to ruin your innocence even further, right?”

There was an awkward pause in which Leslie decided to simply observe her savior. Su couldn't be more than sixteen years old, and nothing about this apartment told of somebody living with her. She scratched her chin as she giggled at herself and for a moment more, Leslie wondered who she was. In a strange way, this felt like her first day in Fairhills. She knew some of the faces around here, some names, some rumours, but looking at this girl and thinking back to those boys, Leslie was painfully aware of how little she knew about her own home. Cold and grey and uncaring, that's how she'd always thought of it, but now the other girl patted her on her head and told her that Transformers wasn't that bad, they even had some cool girl bots or whatever, and Starscream was fun in most incarnations.

They held a conversation, a normal one at that, in which Leslie could actually unload some serious Care Bears trivia onto her friend. She'd once talked to Rick about it, who'd rolled his eyes and immediately drifted to a more “mature” topic, and once she attempted to regale Annie with her tales, but the kindergarten teacher had waved it off. Sharing which characters she liked, which episodes she thought were the best, what the funniest jokes were, it was an awesome feeling. And Su asked some questions, put some songs, old and new ones as well. The best part, Leslie singing loudly along must've looked less weird and more cute as Su quickly went to make a video of the red headed girl rocking out in the middle of her room.

And the winter sun drifted towards the horizon, leaving her with a thought that it would end soon, and that it did.

“It's getting late, Lee. I'll get you back home, the sooner we'll get it over with, the sooner we can move on. I might even show you around town a bit, then no boys'll try shit, right? Your mommy's probably worried about you, too.”

Leslie felt herself stiffen at the suggestion, but knew that this was inevitable. After all, staying here, with the scene of the crime just a few steps away, wasn't something she could've done anyway. But going home sounded scary.

“I can just call her and you can show me the city.”

Su wordlessly produced a trashbag at that moment, which, quite frankly, smelled filthy. As she held in front of Leslie, the girl recoiled, but immediately knew what Su was trying to say.

“I'd love to, kiddo. But if we're going to be friends, you're gonna fess up to your mom, and, I'm sorry to say that, but considering your condition, keeping you around without any spare, uhm, underwear, seems risky. For both us.”

Leslie found herself blushing at the insinuation, but the honest truth was, even though her body was younger, she was still herself. The easiest way to phrase it was that both she and her muscles were more relaxed when she was diapered, which led to her having gone already. Knowing that and what had happened before, she found herself nodding in agreement.

Both parties felt equally good about not having to argue with the other. Leslie was sure her mother wasn't at home, and maybe she could avoid Asad. Then, she could shake off Su at the door, wash the clothes, give them back to Asad, tell Su the next day that her mom had been really mad, but she would pay some money (an offer she hoped Su to decline, in all honesty). They could be friends, she would beat up those bully kids as revenge and ride off into the sunset on a pony.

Perfection.

She nodded to herself, snow falling on her face again. Su had helped her put the jacket and the boots on, which only made Leslie feel smaller than she already was. As Su put on her own jacket, Leslie decided to finally check on her phone, which had, luckily enough, survived every endeavor she'd been through. For a moment, she wondered whether she should access the site, but if it contained any more recaps of today's events in the same style as it did with her meeting with Clara, she doubted the phone would survive for much longer. So, instead, she decided to step out into the world.

Now outside, she took one more look at the city.

Fairhills looked cold and old in the evening light. One streetlight burned fiercer than the others, and on a corner another flickered while another one on the opposite side was broken. There were lights in some windows. A cat looked at the city with big eyes, intrigued by the outside world, a young man with a bald, tatooed head smoked a cigar as he sat on a windowsill. His grim eyes turned towards them and he broke into a toothy smile as he waved at the two of them.

Leslie shifted around on her legs, inched slightly closer to Suqi. If the other girl wasn't here, she would've just run, but maybe the boys were still waiting around the corner.

Who's the littler lady with you, little lady?” The man asked aloud.

“Someone new,” Su answered discreetly.

He gave a hesitant nod, probably because he hadn't heard her. He was on the fourth floor of the building opposite to them and the snow muffled the sound pretty well. Su waved at him again, nonetheless and then patted her on the back.

“Come on, let's get you home,” she said and Leslie, clutching both her shopping bag and the trashbag in one hand, grabbed Su's with the other.

The way Su's hand wrapped around hers eased her unease a bit, yet she couldn't shake the feeling off that somebody was watching her, waiting for a moment of weakness. She stuck close to Suqi, when a car drove by she felt her heart skip a beat, when she heard a boy laughing, her grip tightened. After a while, Su let go of her hand and placed it on her shoulder instead, pulling her as close as she could. It slowed them down by quite a bit, but Su felt warm, and she had that unflinching smile of hers.

So this was probably alright.

The sun had already vanished behind the buildings and only a few rays still peaked out, dyeing the air in a fading orange.

“Why are you so keen on helping me anyways?” Leslie asked her after a few moments.

“You looked like you needed it. Wouldn't have thought it would be as much as you did, but I guess you're lucky, in a weird sort of way.”

Leslie found herself biting her lip. “Am I?”

Su exhaled, a cloud of air rising from her mouth as she did. “Do you know the story of the starstone that once fell on the center of the city?”

“Mom told me.”

“Well, there's a lot of stories about it, actually. One of the urban legends the kids still love to tell is that it was brought down to the earth by a wish.”

Leslie's head immediately turned up towards Su. “What are you–“ She started, but immediately tripped over her own feet. Su, with the reflexes of a cat, immediately grasped her.

“You gotta watch out, kitten, come on. Eyes up front.”

Leslie nodded, and they continued on. “Anyway, what did you mean when you said it was brought down by a wish?” She asked after a few moments of quiet walking.

Su looked at her queerly for a second, before shaking her head. “Aw, right. I forgot. Uhm, well, the thing is,” she thought for a moment. “There were multiple kids in this city back in the nineteen hundreds. Kids with a special friend who ensured that all their wishes would come true. And the starstone? It was brought down by one kid who was really, really angry at his parents. He wanted them smitten and that's what happened.”

“That's horrifying.”

“Well, the parents deserved it, which I should've probably told you before.” Su sighed. “Sorry, I'm horrible with stories.”

Leslie nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Right back to being cocky, eh?”

Again, Leslie nodded, which Su answered by sighing yet again. A second later, both of them escaped a giggle.

“Anyway, what I meant with the story is that sometimes, wishes might just come true in this town. Bad people can get punished, horrible experiences can turn out well and bad days can end up good, right?”

“But if they had a special friend, wouldn't they be dead by now?”

Su giggled. “If it can grant wishes, I doubt it would age like humans do. It's more of a benign spirit, I think. Not that it matters, it's a story about hope and about luck. Good things can happen and sometimes they happen especially when everything looks bleak.”

“But were they the only one who got their wishes granted?” Leslie interrupted, not even listening to Suqi attempting to be inspiring.

“You're really hung up on the details, you know that? I mean, well,” she thought for a bit, “there's a few urban legends about wishes when you keep your ears close to them. Maybe enough to fill a book. Some say the Moore family's riches come from such a wish. Uhm, the Moore's are big shots in this town, though they got little to do with us folks down here in Fairhills.”

Leslie suddenly stopped, more aware of the mobile phone in her pocket than before. The sky was grey and cloudy and the snow would not let up.

Her eyes turned to Su, and for a moment she wondered. “If the stories were true, Su, who do you think would get a wish?”

The girl looked at her, a wry smile growing on her face. “Piqued your interest, huh? Well, if I were to decide people whose wishes needed to be answered, I'd go for those with character, those who'd use them for the greater good. But, since powers in these fantasies are more fickle, I think,” the smile faded from her face and Su looked up at the sky. “I think the closest possible answer would be that a person needs it, whether they know it or not. A child starving of hunger, maybe, an old man on death's edge who has done nothing but wrong and needs a second chance, maybe a woman who never got to live life to the fullest.”

Leslie nodded. “Someone who has something specific they need, then? Like,” she thought of Annie, of Rick, of herself, “a shot at life?”

Su nodded. “I guess that's a way to phrase it. You don't find many starving people here, after all.”

“Su?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“If you had a wish–“

Su put her hand up. “Don't even continue that. I don't need any wishes. I've got everything I need, alright. Now let's get going, my hands are getting cold.”

She moved on, pulling Leslie after her. Leslie, who now thought of Clara. Why would a monster like her deserve getting her wishes fulfilled? She'd probably never done a good thing in her life, only lied and deceived. She was a witch, a siren, nothing that deserved any kind of power.

“Do you think bad people could get their hands on such a friend?” Leslie asked as they walked along a familiar road and her home came into sight. Two people stood in front of it, talked.

Suqi didn't answer immediately, but turned her head slightly, just to catch a glimpse at Leslie. Her face was cold as stone. “Why would you ask that?”

For a moment she didn't want to say anything, for fear that the girl would laugh at her, but another part of her urged her onwards. “Is it possible to get powers with the wish?”

Then Suqi stopped, completely turning towards Leslie. Her smile was gone, a frown was on her face. For a moment there was a silence between them, only broken by the sound of a distant train, muffled by the snowfall that grew ever heavier.

“What did you see?” Suqi asked.

She wanted to ask the same question back, wanted to ask how Suqi knew about the wishes. She caught a knife by the blade and didn't bleed, you dummy, Leslie thought. Her eyes turned downwards, however, and she wanted to do nothing more but sink into the ground. Leslie wondered why she even brought this attention on to herself.

She found a spider crawling down her spine, its legs digging into her skin, into her nerves. It was the cold again, like before, a cold that burned like a fire. She bit her lip and the taste of iron hit her tongue, and a tear ran down her face again.

She felt Su's hand on her shoulder and looked up again. The girl was kneeling in front of her, her expression softened again. “You can tell me, Leslie,” she told her, her voice so soft and enticing. “You don't need to be afraid.”

There was blood on her lip, she felt it grow cold in the open air. Leslie shook her head. “They're just legends, right? That's really all they are.”

The snow was cold, Su smiled softly. “You know, you're new in town, so you don't know a lot about this place. It's distant and grey during the day, cold and horrifying at night. But in the dawn and twilight hours of the day, there are colors here you see nowhere else. We got stories stranger than mythology, of meteors, of children jumping through pictures and stories, of demented growing normal once more, of wolves that learned to walk among men and people living the lives they always wanted to live, just as we got stories of dark beasts in the shape of people, criminals that during firefights never got hit by a single bullet and people going missing with no evidence ever left behind. When you keep your eye close to the playgrounds, some children sing the songs and tell the tales, and their parents do so as well, and their parents too. Nobody believes them, of course, but in this place, well, I think wishes can come true for those who really want them to.”

“How do you know that?”

The wind picked up, howling through the alleys.

“If I tell you, are you going to tell me what you saw?” Suqi asked and Leslie nodded, completely caught of guard by the red girl. She paused for a moment, thinking about how to say what she wanted to say, then sighed. “Well, the best way to describe it would be–“

“If it isn't the little kitten from this morning,” a voice interrupted her and the hairs on Leslie's back rose up as she turned towards her house, to the person approaching.

Clara smiled her same, cruel smile. “Did you make a new friend?”

Leslie didn't know how to react, so she just grabbed Suqi's hand and started running.

  • Like 4
Link to comment

*Gasp*

Nononononononononoonononononononononononnononono!!!!!!!!!!!

*ahem* What I meant to say was Oh dear, the Beast rears its ugly head once again. What ever will our Protagonist do?

Also I'm going to take a guess about Suqi: She's not one of the 7. Nor is she the Wish-Granting Friend. I think she's one of the original Children who wished for immortality or something like that. Which would make her between 200-300 years old. :)

Link to comment

Wow this is a fantastic story so far. I had gotten so far behind in my reading I didn’t know it even existed.  I am loving it. I really want to know what it was that Clara whispered in her ear as they departed the last time. I guess we might find out more soon.  I know I definitely want to read more. 

Link to comment
  • 5 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...