Stories by Introverts

Artwork, done by a friend, of one of the characters for the series I am working on--- Creature Crib. This is Hope B. Gigglepond, who works as a Fairy Godmother for children. Hope plays the part of a sweet nurturing person for work, but on the inside, she is barely holding her sanity together.

Cemetery, noontime, mid-spring. It’s raining heavily, the sky is covered in thick dark clouds, lightning is flashing, and thunder is roaring. The world is grey, cold, and rigid.

On the edge of the cemetery, where there are more trees than gravestones, stands a man and a boy. The man is tall, thin, pale, and appears to haven't slept in days. His eyes have bags, his dark curly hair is messy, his beard is overgrown, the suit he wears is wrinkled, and his posture is slouchy. On his face is a look of exhaustion mixed with sorrow and emptiness, as if, a piece of his soul was ripped from his body. He stands in the rain, umbrella in hand, staring blankly down at the grave in front of him. Not blinking, not moving, seemingly not even breathing. It’s not until the man feels a tug on his trousers does his focus shift away from the grave.

The boy, with sad confusion in his eyes, looks up at the man. The boy is young, with big eyes, a round face, a slightly puggy, and a mole on the right side of his nose. His cheeks are slightly pink— a noticeable contrast to the grey world around him. He asks the man several questions in a whisper tone.

The Boy: Daddy, I thought we were gonna see Mama? Why’re we here? When can I go see Mama?

The man, the boy's father, does not answer. He sighs, not having the energy to speak, and picks up his son. He carries the boy with one arm— his umbrella in the other— and walks away from the grave. As the two leave the cemetery, the boy stares at the same grave from over his father’s shoulder. The boy isn’t a strong reader, but when he sees the name on the large cement block he recognizes it instantly as one he has seen before.

The Boy (in a whisper): Mama?

Later...

The city, nighttime, the home of the Lux family. The boy and his father are sitting in the dining room and eating Cup-O-Noodles in silence. At least, the boy is eating while his father merely pokes at the dish with his fork. The boy looks at his father, then at the empty seat between them. 

The seat is a bright yellow, a contrast to the otherwise grey of everything else. The boy stares at it till the vision of a woman appears, filling the whole room with color and light. Where all was once rigid and cold, now it is loose and warm, where there was almost no life, now there is much, and at the center of it all is the woman.

She is beautiful, the classic kind of beauty you see in starlets from the 1950s. Her skin is pure, her hair notably long and wavy, her eyes as sparkly as two amethysts. When she smiles, it is as though the world becomes all the more pleasant for it. The charm she irradiates is almost too much to bear as her hand reaches out to the boy, gesturing for him to come closer to her side. 

The Father (flatly): Are you done?

With only three words, the world was back to being grey and cold. Whatever had been happening passed as quickly as it came— the tone of the father's question had sent it away. The boy looks at his father and then back at the yellow seat, which is empty once more. The father follows his son's line of sight, and upon seeing nothing but the space between them, he sighs heavily and stands up to retrieve his son's half-eaten food.

The Boy: Daddy, when is Mama coming home?

The man freezes, the Cup-O-Noodles so loose in his grasp that it falls to the floor. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, he had to tell his son the truth but was afraid of the pain it would bring. He didn’t want his son to feel the same as he felt. The man is just standing there, staring off into the distance with a look that perfectly mirrors the one at the cemetery. It’s as though the more he thought about it, the more he thought about her, his energy was draining out of his body.

The Boy: Daddy..?

The man snaps back into consciousness. The boy is staring at him with confusion and worry all over his tiny face. The man closes his eyes tight and takes a long breath inward, holding it in as long as possible before releasing harshly and opening his eyes slowly. He knees down to clean up the mess he made while his son watches him patiently, still looking confused and worried about his father’s behavior. The man cleans the mess and tidies things up, his son watching him the entire time. As he finishes up, he glances at a picture of his wife on the fridge and sighs again.

The Father (mumbles): I’ll tell him tomorrow. I promise.

The Boy: Uh?

The boy is now standing at his father’s feet— he was so distracted he didn’t even hear his son move. For a second, irritability crosses the man’s face but is gone before the boy can notice. 

The Boy: Daddy, when’ll Mama come ho—?

The Father (flatly): Time for bed. We’ve got to be at your kindergarten early tomorrow.

The Boy: Why can’t Mama take me? She always goes—?

The Father, as he picks up his son: I’ve got an errand to run in the area, so we have to be out the door by seven. Understood?

The Boy (quietly): Yes, Daddy. 

The two head upstairs in silence with the father carrying his son the entire way and only put him down upon reaching the last step. The father proceeds to help his son get ready for bed; they brush their teeth together, the man helps his son change into his pajamas and then tucks him into bed, and the man turns off the lamp and turns on a nightlight.

The Father, leaving his son’s room: Goodnight.

The Boy: Daddy..?

The father pauses at the doorway, turning his head slightly to face his son. He stares at the boy blankly, causing the child to become nervous.

The Boy (quivering): Nevermind.

With that, the father shuts the door to his son’s room. The boy stares up at the ceiling for a moment, watching the star pattern left from the glow of his nightlight before his eyes begin to drift close.

*Scratch, scratch, scratch.*

The boy’s eyes open wide, his body shoots up into a sitting position, and a gasp escapes his mouth at a mysterious sound in the shadows. He shimmies his covers off and stands on his bed to turn the lamp on. The boy looks in the direction of the noise, but all he sees is his toy chest and a large-stuffed giraffe in the corner. He gets out of his bed to have a closer look at everything, and upon doing so, he notices a long-thin crack in his wall that wasn’t there prior. He puts his hand on the crack.

We open on a mansion--- one that has seen better days--- somewhere in New England. Surrounding the building are tall trees, unmanicured shrubs, dead or dying flowers, and overgrown patches of grass. Preceding the property is an iron gate with a broken lock, and standing in front of it is a fairy. 

The fairy looks at the mansion, then down at her phone, squints, and sighs. She enters the property and trudges through the wild front yard, nearly losing one of her shoes to an overturned tree root. Once at the front door, she removes bits of vegetation that attached themselves to her body and prepares to knock. However, just before her fist touches the door, it swings open, and she is pulled inside without time to comprehend what is happening.

Now inside, she is flung to the floor as the door is slammed shut behind her and locked tight. The fairy is flipped onto her back, while a tall figure is looming over her with chaos in his eyes that shocks her into silence. The figure inches uncomfortably close to her face and says….

“Did the landlord send you?!”

The Fairy (Hope): “What?”

The Figure (Sherry): “Were you sent by the person that owns this land?”

Hope: “No?”

Sherry: “What about the neighbors--- did one of them send you?”

Hope: “Again, no.”

Sherry: “The cops?”

Hope: “NO.”

Sherry: “FBI? CIA? Homeland?!”

Hope: “Why the hell would Homeland Security be—?!”

Sherry: “Answer the question!”

Hope: “NO!! For fucks sake, I was just here to answer the ad!”

Sherry: “Oh, why didn’t you say so?”

Now, as if the last couple of minutes didn’t happen, the figure smiles down at the fairy— she notices his fangs. Once again, he yanks her around like an old ragdoll and lifts her off the floor.

Sherry: “So, you wanna be my new roomie? In that case, allow me to introduce myself. The name is Sheridan O’Reilly, but you may call me Sherry for short…Unless the guy I buy meth from comes lookin’ for me, then my name is Bram.”

Hope: “Did you just say met—?”

Sherry (pulling at Hope’s arm): “Come on, let me give you the full tour!”

Sherry gives Hope a tour of the mansion, taking her from room to room so she can judge its quality. However, there is not much to judge, or rather too much to judge. Each room is shown to be bug-infested, full of random junk, covered in various substances, and/or missing portions of the walls.

Sherry: “First off, we have the kitchen and dining areas, with all the newest appliances and the finest dining table you will ever see. (Most of the appliances were made around the 60s and 70s, and the “dining table” is a ping-pong table).”

Hope: *Sigh*

Sherry: “Next up is the parlour, which I have personally decorated with only the highest quality furniture. I also have displayed some of my favorite pieces of art on the walls. (The furniture is either tacky, torn up, has a weird smell, or some combo of the three. Also, none of it matches. As for the art pieces, most are posters of obscure metal/grunge bands, and the rest are shitty homemade collages).” 

Hope (with a fake smile): “It’s certainly a very unique space you’ve made for yourself, isn’t it?”

Sherry (proudly): “It is.”

Sherry (but now in a different part of the mansion): “Upstairs is where the majority of bedrooms are located and one of the bathrooms and the hall closet.”

*Loud moaning sound*

Hope (looking up at the ceiling): “What was that?”

Sherry: “Oh..., nothing. Something probably just fell over in the attic.”

*Even louder moaning sound*

Hope (fluttering up to the attic door): “Don’t you think we should go—?”

Sherry: “(Tugs Hope back down by the bottom of her dress) DON’T GO UP THERE!! (Turns her around and looks her dead in the eye) Never go in the attic, ever!!”

Hope (slightly terrified): “O-kay.”

Sherry: “And finally, we have the basement-slash-wine-cellar-slash-my-bedroom. Also, known as, The Shag Pad.”

A neon sign that reads “The Shag Pad” lights up out of nowhere, and more lights proceeding illuminates the rest of the basement. Now able to see it wholly, Hope notices that the basement is divided into four distinct areas: wine and other alcoholic beverages, one for storing random/suspiciously expensive items, one that looks like a mini sex dungeon, and one bedroom-ish area. 

Hope (so confused): “Umm…, very classy.”

Sherry (proudly): “Right! Most people think it's weird that the sex dungeon is separate from the bedroom, but I think it’s much more classy this way. (Gives Hope a friendly, if a bit hard, pat on the back) You get me.”

Hope (uncomfortable and confused): “Ya.” 

Sherry and Hope return to the parlour to discuss further possibly living together.

Sherry (smiling and rubbing his hands): “Sooo, what do you think? Roommates?”

Hope: “I…umm…er…The thing is, I don’t know if this is the right fit for me. The mansion is very…unique, and you seem to be a nice guy…, but I don’t think I should leave my current home yet.”

Sherry (curiously): “Oh, why’s that?”

Hope: “Well, I live with my mother, and she depends on me for chores and stuff. Plus, I’m not sure if I’m ready to live so far…so far away…from…”

Hope’s mind flashes to memories of herself and her mother living together over the years.

Hope’s Mother: “Hopey, when you get off work, can you run some errands for me? I even made a little list for you, so you don’t forget anything (unrolls a list 20 feet long).”

Hope: *Sighs*

Hope’s Mother: “You should cook more and eat out less; frozen dinners don’t count.”

Hope: “Mom, I work anywhere between 12 and 14 hours a day. I’m too tired to cook when I get home.”

Hope’s Mother: “Are you too tired or just lazy? Think about it.”

Hope (facepalming): *Groans*

Hope’s Mother (yelling into the next room): “Hope, how much do you weigh!?”

Hope (yelling back): “Why do you need to know!?”

Hope’s Mother: “I’m signing you up on a dating site, and it needs your weight for the profile!”

Hope (rushing over to her mother): “MOM!! You can’t sign me up for online dating without my permission! It's psychotic!”

Hope’s Mother: “Oh, please. I’m your mother, and I know what’s best for you. Besides, there are a lot of beautiful and successful women on here you’d love.”

Hope: “I don’t care. I don’t want to be on a dating site.”

Hope’s Mother: “ But look. This one is a lawyer, and this one is a doctor.”

Hope: “I’m a doctor, Mom.”

Hope’s Mother (condescendingly): “In child psychology.”

Hope’s mind returns to the present, where Sherry is staring at her expectantly.

Hope (smiling broadly): “You know what, I think my mom will get along just fine without me.”

Sherry (smiling back): “Does that mean what I think?”

Hope: “Sherry, you got yourself a roommate.”

Hope extends a hand for Sherry to shake but is given a bone-crushing hug instead. After he releases her, he sprints in the direction of his room.

Hope (confused): “Where are you going!?” 

Sherry (shouting from somewhere): “Gotta get a copy of the lease for you to sign so we can make this official! Also, I gotta call my dealer for party supplies— we’re about to celebrate!”

Hope (flatly): “Of course.”

Hope sits in the parlour alone, listening to the sounds of Sherry hollering and throwing shit around looking for the lease.