Merry Christmas!
BE WARNED: I'm not entirely sure how the story got to this, but even so, I think I enjoyed writing it. I think. Even so, you may be seeing something else around New Years. Probably. Maybe. Just read the story, dang it!
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The fire crackled in the night.
In the small clearing that could scarcely be called a clearing, a girl sat on a log before a fire, warming her hands. Her dark, highlighted purple hair fell into her bright green eyes, which replayed the firelight in their glow. Hands cupping cheeks, she hummed a song softly, deep in thought.
It was the eve before Christmas Eve. Normally, this eve wasn't very significant, Christmas Eve more. No one paid attention, or rather thought that anything of listening to could happen then. It was just another night to go shopping for last minute presents.
But that's why this story is here.
In a forest by the gulf, nearly upon a small beach on the south-western coast of Florida, this story takes place.
Skyril Oblivion started as a stick cracked behind her. She had nearly fallen asleep. Turning around with bleary eyes, she frowned.
“Hello?” She called. “What's there?”
“Your ghost” A, well, ghostly voice answered. Skyril frowned.
“I have a ghost?”
“Well, I'm right here, after all. Explain that.”
“But I can't see you. Explain that.” Skyril span around on the log, so she was facing the woods. “Care to come out, ghosty?”
“I have a name, you know.”
“What?” Skyril giggled. She couldn't help it. “The ghost of christmas past?”
“No.” Skyril snorted. The 'ghost' continued. “The ghost of...your past.”
“Ooh.” Skyril waved her hands, spread wide. “Fancy. So, why can't I see you?”
“I...just...got a face job.”
“Hmm.” Skyril turned back to the fire, getting a stick and putting marshmallows on it. “So.” She began again. “Mar, how many marshmallows do you want?”
“Three.”
“Burnt or just cooked well?”
“I like it a little burnt, but not so much that-HOW'D YOU FIGURE IT OUT? WHO TOLD YOU THAT I WOULD BE HAUNTING YOU?”
“You.” Skyril thew back her head, laughing almost madly.
Stepping out from the shadows, a small girl with flaming red hair walked lightly to the log, sitting next to Skyril. She took the stick from the purple-themed mage, holding it over the fire, watching the dancing flames.
“Curse you, Skyril Oblivion. Curse you!” March muttered, reverting back to her regular voice, unique in its own way.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Y'know...” Skyril began. “Now that we're like, sitting here at a campfire and stuff, I have a sudden urge to act like a schoolgirl and start talking about boys.”
March's eye twitched.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That.” Skyril said, pointing. “You showed some recolonization.”
“No I didn't.”
Skyril gasped. “You have a crush on someone!”
“N-No I don't!” March stuttered.
“Who is it?” Skyril persisted. “Do they live in the mansion?”
March's mouth twisted slightly, and her eye twitched again.
“They do!”
“Shut up shut up shut up!” March burst out suddenly, drawing a small frying pan from her boot and repeatedly whacking Skyril with it.
“Okay!” Skyril yelled, holding up hands in defeat. “Okay! Uncle! I give up! Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!”
March sat down in a huff, holding out her marshmallow, letting it catch fire and burn. Skyril resolved to poke around later.
After a moment, Skyril spoke again. “So why are you here again?”
“Well you see, I got you for that whole secret santa thing.”
“Ah.”
“And, well, I wanted to give you something really AWESOME, but...”
“You forgot?”
“No! I just kinda didn't really know what to get you.”
“So...you decided to haunt me?”
“Pretty much.” March put another marshmallow on her stick, this time planning to eat them. “Israel also gave me some invitations for that Christmas Party he's having, so I figured 'Hey, why not kill two birds with one stone?'”
Skyril looked at the small white envelope that March handed her, her name scrawled on the front. March jumped up suddenly, the marshmallow in her mouth.
“Dude!” She squealed, grabbing Skyril's hand and pulling her up. “I'll fly you around as a bird!”
“What?” Skyril blinked.
Leaping up, March's skin rippled, as if blown by a invisible wind. Suddenly, as if by magic (and it was), A crimson bird was in her place, starting to fly in circles around the clearing.
“W-Wait March-”
Skyril's words were swept away as the Mar-Wing picked her up, soaring away, in a randomly vague direction.
...
“DANG IT MARCH, DON'T HEAD FOR CANADA!”
...
LOL! This is so hilarious. I love it!
ReplyDeleteDon't head for Canada!!! But Canada is a lovely place I've heard!
:P
I want moooore!
Excellent story.
Mar, that was BRILLIANT!!
ReplyDeleteI was laughing soo much!!
I have a question, Y'know when they're saying 'Uncle' what does that mean?? Cuz I read it in a book.
Er...well, NJ, I heard that it's a sort of game? Or some sort?
ReplyDeleteIt's like two people (or more) would try to get the other to say 'Uncle', in cruel ways like whacking each other? Or other methods. Whoever says Uncle first looses. It's a weird game. I've never actually played it, but I was looking at comics when I was writing it, and they were doing uncle. So...it entered the story by accident. I'm easily influenced like that.
Uncle supposedly originated somewhere, and I think you originally pronounced it 'Auncle'?
That's what I remember, at least. It's a bit fuzzy.
Glad you liked it, anyway!
You should go to Canada Octa! I've never been there but Thalia has!
This is fantastic. Brilliant story, Mar!
ReplyDeleteOcta - indeed Canada is lovely! Just be careful if you go to Quebec, they all speak Canadian French there, and it's a bit...odd. But it's still lovely!
I laughed so hard I (by mistake) projected my milk in the general direction of my computer... You owe me a new keyboard.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful story Mar! Or as Arthur would say, Brilliant! XD