Story Day - Dodge & Map

Today, you get a treat: two stories instead of just one. Dodge was so short I decided to go ahead and make up for it by sharing the next story as well. You're welcome. XD

The Prompt

This was the fourth day of Inktober. The prompt was dodge. And of course my brain automatically went to the Dodger from Oliver Twist, which is why this first story turned out the way it did. XD

The Story

Hangings are perfect. I smirked to myself, ignoring the pitiful soul babbling incoherently on the platform with a noose around his neck as he prepared to meet his Maker. I didn’t care about him - no, I was here for the crowds, the rich folks who found pleasure in another man’s death.

I snorted. Sickos.

No matter that I would be next in line for the hangman’s noose if I were caught.

Ignoring that, I brushed against a woman’s skirt, mumbling apologies as I slid my hand in her pocket and came out with a bracelet with a broken clasp, which I slipped up my sleeve. She shot me a glare but otherwise ignored me. The gentleman to her right, whose elbow I bumped, didn’t have anything loose enough for me to take, although the expensive pocketwatch dangling from a chain was too tempting for my own good. I turned away from it, dodged a few small children who were with their mothers, and pretended like I was desperate to get to the front and see the man suffocate. Just like the rest of them. But I was dirtier, meaner, less afraid to touch others. And the crowd was packed so closely together that it was a piece of cake to slip a silk handkerchief here, a wallet there, a piece of jewelry when it was too large for a woman anyway.

What a catch! 

The trapdoor fell out from beneath the man with a crash. His scream was cut short.

I ignored him, as I had ignored so many others, and decided I had enough loot for the day. The money from this would last me and my lads a week, not to mention what they got. I fought a smirk. 

Now this is living.

The Prompt

This was from the fifth day of Inktober. The prompt was map. And I decided to take a page from N.D. Wilson's book and write from an animal's POV. I can see why he does it so much XD

The Story

A capybara scrambled through the damp tunnels, clutching a parchment carefully between his buck teeth. He had no idea where he was, only where he was going - and he only knew that because of the pull on his mind, urging him around corners and under arches and over small puddles of water.

This is not home.

But it didn’t matter. He had to get the paper to Master - whoever that was - and then he could go back.

Get the paper to Master. Keep it safe. Get the paper to Master.

The smell of acrid smoke stung his nose, and his instincts halted his movements. He hesitated, one paw poised for the next step, eyes glinting with liquid in the gloom. Fire.

That’s bad.

Get the paper to Master.

Despite the way his nerves screamed for him to turn around and run from the flames, he found his body moving forward, flattening as close to the wall as possible as he turned the corner and saw a giant glowing thing, belching smoke into a cavern.

Fire!

But he couldn’t turn around. Not yet. Master needed the paper, and then he could flee.

Humans were running around by the giant glowing thing, pounding more glowing things with hammers that rang out in shrill ways that hurt his ears. The capybara winced but kept moving forward. Get the paper to Master.

He felt hunted suddenly, as one of the humans looked up and spotted him. She motioned, shouting. More humans looked up, and some moved forward. His little pathway around the top of their cavern didn’t offer any cover.

He squeaked. He had to run - needed to escape.

Get the paper to Master!

Scrambling into what passed as a run, the capybara darted forward into the next tunnel, out of the cavern with fire and noise and predators and forward, always forward. Smoke trailed after him, mingling with shouts.

And then it fell quiet. The capybara halted in a pool of darkness, the icy stone beneath his paws the only thing he could feel. The damp had given way to a cold, dry dark. But it was not an empty dark. Someone - something - was here.

There you are. The voice was a whispered thought. The capybara’s nose twitched, but he didn’t move. Did you bring me my map?

He dropped the paper to the floor and edged a step away.

Good boy.

All at once, his will returned. Squeaking in terror, the capybara scrambled off into another tunnel, fear from smoke and people and things spurring him on to greater speeds. He knew he had to get up and out. Run!

Little did he know that he had just condemned the world to burn.

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Which story did you prefer? Have you ever read Oliver Twist or any of N.D. Wilson's stuff? Do those stories count as plagiarism? XD

Until next time,

Take courage, pursue God, and smile while you still have teeth!! ^_^

-Joelle

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