NaNoWriMo Day 8 WC — 22,010 Words
(Updated as the day goes on.)
As promised, I have nice lead on NaNoWriMo so here’s a little short story that should make you laugh, think, and maybe cry.
“Mummy, I have a tummy-ache.” Ookla rubbed her eye, clutching her favorite doll, Mr. Bentley, by the leg. He screamed less now, I had concerns when I bought him for her.
I set aside my cutting knife, brushing aside the remnants of breakfast. I need to remember to remove the horns. They get stuck in hubby’s teeth. I turned around, wiping the blood from my hands on my apron and gave her an endearing smile. “Dinner will be soon, sweets. You’re just hungry.”
She scowled at me, jutting her lower lip to pout. Her tusks were coming in nicely; after all she takes after me. Hubby says that’s what made him notice me.
“Why don’t you go play with Mr. Bentley,” I said, waving a finger. “I need to cook the food long enough that the fur burns off. You and daddy don’t want to cough up hairballs do you?”
She giggled at that. “No mommy. But Mr. Bentley is lonely.”
“Lonely?” I straighten, resting my hands on my swollen belly, and give it a rub. “You want another dolly? You just got Mr. Bentley.”
“See?” Ookla held him up. He twisted and struggled against her hold. “I think he wants a girl dolly.”
“You’re too young,” I said. “Dollies do naughty things when together. Maybe when you’re older. For now take care of—“
Ookla spiked Mr. Bentley against the ground, hard. He splattered head first on my clean floor and fell still and silent. Ookla scowled up at me with a defiant glare, her single eye narrowed. “Now, I need a new one, a girl.”
I clenched my teeth, drawing a growl deep from within by throat. But the looming stature of my husband approached, his horn scraping the ceiling of our cave as it tended to.
“Daddy!” Ookla turned and leapt against her father’s belly, sinking against the pocket of green flesh.
“How princess?” He said, plopping a hand atop her sprouting horn, and set down his heavy sack.
“Princess broke Mr. Bentley,” I said, glaring. I gestured to the bloody spot on the floor.
“Oh, good.” He stooped, scraped the remains from the floor and popped it into his mouth. “I needed a snack.”
“You’ll ruin your appetite,” I said. “And humans are expensive. If you’re going to snack, I have chickens in the basket.”
“Yes, dear.” Hubby pushed past me, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek, and a playful squeeze on my bottom.
“Daddy, I need a new doll.” Ookla followed him to the chicken basket. “I want a girl one.”
“I look for one when I go work. Most ones I find are boys.” He grabbed a handful of squawking chickens. “Oh, fresh.”
“You mustn’t spoil her.” I say wagging a finger at him. “And don’t fill up. I’m making your favorite. No more than four chickens. You just ate a human.”
“Fine.” Hubby let out a snort, dropping all but five.
“I want a girl one.” Okla said, whining. “One with the pretty pink hat with a thingie on it.”
“Oh, princess? For a Princess.” Hubby laughed, tossing the chickens in his mouth. Feathers stuck to the corners of his mouth, and sent the remaining chickens in the basket to squawking. “I bring gifts.”
He fished inside of his sack and produced a small mirror. Ookla followed him and marveled at it. “For me?”
“You.” Hubby tossed it, and their little girl caught it in elation.
“You are spoiling her.” I said through clenched teeth. “She just finished doing something—“
I fumbled to catch the clump of rock he hurled towards me. A glint caught my eye. I brought about my other hand, crushing away the rock, and flaked away stone to reveal it as a huge chunk of diamond. I gaped down at it, thunderstruck.
“Kill humans for this.” Hubby said, smiling. His tusks curled around his lips, reminding me why I had fallen in love with this brute. “Too little left to eat, so I hungry.”
“Of course.” I said holding it near a burning torch. “It’s beautiful, stink-bubble, Thank you. Go on and have a handful of chickens. You’ve worked up quite the appetite.”
A second glint caught by eye, coming from the mirror in Ookla’s hands. Her daughter approached the kitchen table and set it down. She stared at the mirrors glass as it filled with curious light. It turned dazzling and bright and an unsettling feeling came to my gut.
“Fire!” A small voice came from the table, and a volley of arrows poured from the mirror. Ookla let out a yelp, doubling back and held a protective hand over her eye. The arrow shafts stuck into her flesh, toppling her in pain.
Rage took me, and I moved before I realized my actions. I raised the chunk of diamond and brought it down towards the mirror, but a great force stopped me. The hard edges of the stone cut into my hand, and it began to glow. I winced in pain, abandoning the precious stone, but still noticed the flood of armored humans pouring from the mirror.
Hubby sunk into rage himself and smashed a group of men with a hammer blow that splintered the table, seeing that calmed me enough to get to Oookla instead. I scooped her up into my arms, confirming her wounds were not serious.
The mirror stayed upright and a bridge of light facilitated the incoming forces. Hubby fought valiantly, reaching for a club and knocked away a wave of attackers. Some managed to flank him, and robed humans chanted words of the old tongue: spells to conjure fire.
But I noticed too late, gouts of flame barraged Hubby from behind. A strange device filed from mirror, made of wood and steel.
I go to help him, but Ookla bursts to tears, clawing at me in sheer terror. I struggle to set her down, but she’s strong for her age. Worse, I am out of shape.
The device launches and a human female flies from it, landing square in the center of Hubby’s forehead and thrusts a wicked looking sword into his skin. Hubby roared, still reeling from the onslaught of spells, a desperate swing killed a few humans but not enough.
I pull away Ookla, and push her aside. But my first steps falter, the humans have traps, swordsmen at my feet. I notice a volley of arrows too late, and I am blind. Countless arrows riddle my eyes. And I claw at them, but they are too small to remove. The room is a twisting blur and I can only hear my husband’s death throes and the screams of my daughter.
I fall forward, dizzied by the clattering of steel, the squawk of chickens, and shouting of men. I land hard on the counter, hard on my cheek. My tusk snapped, cutting into my mouth. Not my tusk, Hubby loves my tusks. Knives cut into the small of by back, searing heat from lobbed balls of flame. None of this should have happened.
I fall to knees, collapsing on the floor face first. I catch a glimpse of the hazy image of humans surrounding my daughter with wide nets. She fights back, but it is in vain. There are too many of them.
My eye grew dark, completely useless. The pain faded. The screams of my daughter vanished.