#with characters

Horse: 

She thought she could slow him down a tad. Then she pretty much gave up until Jennifer got her a lead. 

This is just a quick little excerpt with two of my characters, Reid and Cori. I just thought I’d like to prove that I do in fact have characters that I write stories about, and I don’t just sit around making up names and saying that these characters, like, TOTALLY EXIST, y’all, and I have SO many stories for them, but idk I left them all in Canada or smth

I don’t really like my own writing style, tbh. When I read it back to myself, it just sounds like “this character did this. this character felt that.” and I don’t really know how to improve it that much, so hey, advice-givers, give it if you got it. I’ve been trying to read well-written stuff, and learn from it without copying it, but idk how well I managed to pull it off, lol.

(Just as an aside, the fact that New Year is mentioned is purely coincidental. It’s just canon that at this point in the story, Reid doesn’t speak to Cori for a long time and then they reunite sometime in the dead of winter basically)

So here it is, a short bit about a guy and his skeleton friendo, and a pretty good summary of what most of my writing is like (i.e. poorly-written angst and h/c). Enjoy—I’ll be off to the side, steeping my bones in regret. XD

The Last Person Expected

“Cori, can you stop clicking, please?”

Cori mumbled an apology for her nervous habit and stuffed her hands in her pockets, the sound of her finger joints muffled by the fabric of her winter coat. She had four layers of clothing on underneath, as well as a face mask pulled up to her nasal bone—her usual cold-weather attire. During the Winter, she often got asked if skeletons get cold, and she had to repeatedly explain that yes, they do, but not as much as people with skin, and she mostly just wears layers so she looks slightly less skeletal.

Today, it was to cut down on the number of Grim-Reaper-related remarks, because these were not the remarks she wanted to hear while out on a mission of charitable goodwill. (“Ghost of Christmas Future” also seemed to be a favorite, even though the holiday had come and gone, and while she understood the comparison, she hated that she was perceived as terrifying and gloomy.)

The Clarendon family had the tradition of heading into the more run-down parts of Chamber City–the parts that the Clarendon parents tended to serve in volunteer medical clinics—and handing out “Basics Bags,” containing things like razors, combs, toothbrushes, first aid, and other essential items. They did it whenever they could, but they always made sure to at least do so after the holidays were over, after the cold weather had truly set in, but most of the other well-wishers and do-gooders had vanished.

This was the first time that Cori had participated since she became a skeleton. Her mom, Vera, hummed thoughtfully and set the radio to scan for a station. “I thought you enjoyed doing this every year,” she said to Cori.

“Yeah, that was before I looked like this!” Cori gestured to her face, and even though it was half-hidden by fabric, her point was clear. “Now I terrify small children.”

“Well, fortunately, Corsiva, it’s not about what you look like,” Vera replied. “It’s difficult to be too terrified in the face of a person giving you a gift, right?”

Cori leaned her skull against the car window, fogging it ever-so-slightly when she exhaled. “You underestimate the superstitious public.” She figured her mom was just trying to cheer her up with that question, but the attempt fell flat.

Sure enough, when they got to their first street, a mother and a child both cringed away from her as she handed them a bag. She smiled, then realized half her face was covered—so she simply struck as non-threatening a pose as possible, laid the bag on the ground, wished them a nice day, and walked back to her mom’s car.

“See, told ya,” she muttered.

“It’s okay,” Vera said with a hand-wave. “You’re still starting off the new year by doing a good deed, no matter what you look like.”

And so they went, parking on the numbered streets and walking down the named ones to hand out Basics Bags. Cori got mixed reactions as the days went on—some people were thankful, some were rude, some cracked jokes, and some didn’t say much of anything at all.

Cori saw a lot of people her own age, and while they tended to just be grateful and say “thank you,” it still surprised her just how much of her generation seemed to not have a roof over their heads. She used to think that handing out these bags was making a significant difference in the world, and it was probably making a significant-ish difference to those people specifically, but now it made her wonder.

Toward the end of their second-to-last road, she spotted a young man sitting in front of a pile of black trash bags. His head was down and his legs were crossed, hands laying limply in his lap. He didn’t stir as she approached, and didn’t wake until she addressed him directly.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said as quietly as possible, and his eyes sprung open immediately. He leaned back and looked around a little before his eyes settled on her. She held a bag out, leaning forward and doing her best to look friendly. “My family and I make these bags every year and give them out. Would you like one?”

His eyes widened in shock, or perhaps disbelief. Oh good, Cori thought, I’ve scared another one. Great. Wonderful. “It’s okay, I’m not as scary as I look,” Cori sighed, trying and failing to keep the resignation out of her tone. “Can I just leave this here with you?”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes narrowed a little, like he was trying to figure her out—an expression she was not unaccustomed to seeing. “It’s a Basics Bag,” she explained, and her face mask slipped off her nasal bone as she looked down. She didn’t bother fixing it. “It has a lot of useful stuff in here—first aid, shaving cream and a razor, a spare toothbrush, a roll of quarters for laundromats and—”

“Cori?”

“Huh?” She hardly heard him, because she was talking and his voice was very soft, but she was certain she’d just heard him say her name. She stopped talking and lowered the bag to her side.

“Cori,” he murmured again, even quieter this time.

“Um… yeah.” Cori’s metaphorical stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected to encounter anyone who knew her. “Do I know y—“

Before she could even finish the word, she realized who she was talking to. Her jaw fell open, and she dropped the bag she was holding. Even though his clothes were tattered, he was covered in dirt and grime, and he had lost a lot of weight, his face was unmistakable, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him sooner. She felt like she’d been struck by lightning.

“Reid?”

She sank to her knees, putting herself at eye-level with him. The sidewalk was damp, and murky pavement-water soaked right through her pants and onto her kneecaps. It didn’t matter. The only thing currently mattering was the fact that Reid Blackburn, who she hadn’t heard a peep from in nearly a year, was sitting in front of her, in a state she never would have expected to see him in.

Reid cast his eyes downward. He seemed… afraid? Perhaps just hesitant. Maybe embarrassed? Cori reached out to try and hold one of his hands in an attempt to comfort him, momentarily forgetting his fear of touch—he yanked his arms away and gave a soft whimper, refusing to look her in the eyes, seemingly bracing himself. Cori’s head swam with shock, confusion, fear… mostly confusion.

“Reid,” she asked gently, trying to hide her growing panic. “What are you doing here?”

He said nothing.

“How long have you been out here?”

Still nothing. His brow furrowed and he bit down on the inside of his lip.

Cori tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay?”

And with that, whatever energy was keeping him upright seemed to vanish, and he caved in on himself, quietly sobbing.

Cori leaned back on her leg, feeling slightly frantic. “Okay, um… I think we should… hm. My mom is just up the street… she’s waiting for me to come back. How about you and I go talk to her?”

Reid shook his head, shrinking further and folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, I can’t let you stay out here.” Cori planted her palms on the ground and looked up into Reid’s face. “You can at least come have dinner with us, right?”

Reid kept his head down, but he did at least meet Cori’s gaze, and tentative relief swept across her face. “Right?” she repeated.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh my g- …Reid, it’s not an intrusion. I am not about to just leave my best friend alone in a pile of garbage,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice, as she reached out and took Reid gently by the wrist. “You are coming with me, and I am not taking no for an answer.”

The fact that Cori called Reid her “best friend” took him off-guard, and his eyes welled up anew. He flinched when Cori touched him, but didn’t pull away, and Cori sprang up and helped him to his feet.

“Come on,” she said, motioning to an SUV in the distance. “That’s my mom’s car, just there. Let’s go talk to her.”

Reid sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes, still not speaking, allowing himself to be dragged along by the arm as the two walked back to the car together. Cori could feel him quivering in her grip, and her jawbone was clicking from the force of holding back all her questions. How did this happen? What even happened, for Reid to get to this point? Why didn’t he ask her for help earlier, like he did the last time they saw each other?

Where are his brother and sisters?

Click, click, click. Questions for another time, perhaps.

When they got to the SUV, Cori raised a gloved hand and tapped on the window.

“Ran out of bags?” Vera asked as the glass lowered.