Re: A Challenge (seperate from the weekly writers' challenge)
Posted by:
Falchion (IP Logged)
Date: September 27, 2009 09:25PM
Hehe, I managed to finish it! :D
The storm leered down at the small party, delighting in their powerlessness against it. It battered them with wind and rain, and even threw rocks and twigs in their collective face. It howled with derision over their futile attempts to find shelter as they ran to a large tree and crouched beside the trunk.
“I swear, that thing is practically alive!”
“Oh, do shut up, Bart!” Hazel hugged her poodle to her chest, trying to keep it safe from the rain. “You’re upsetting Froo-Froo!”
“I’m upsetting Froo-Froo? Can it even hear me over the storm?”
“Froo-Froo’s a she, and very fragile!” Hazel wailed. “And you’ve hurt her feelings!”
Bart rolled his eyes and huddled closer to the tree trunk. “Escort Hazel to her cousin’s,” he muttered. “A simple job, no troubles at all. Easiest fifty silver pieces of my life. HAH!”
“Bart! Froo-Froo has delicate ears! Please be quieter!”
“Nobody mentioned the dog!” Bart moaned.
Hazel was cooing something to Froo-Froo. Bart tried not to whimper. He’d jumped to seize this opportunity. Red-headed Hazel was widely acknowledged to be the prettiest girl this side of the Tavon River. The sheer prestige of escorting her anywhere was almost as good a reward as the money he’d been promised.
Something Bart hadn’t realized until an hour into the trip though was that where Hazel went, Froo-Froo went—and Froo-Froo’s purpose in life seemed to be getting into trouble.
To make matters even worse, Hazel’s suitcase, which Bart had assumed had her belongings, was full of nothing but old clothes Hazel had announced she would never wear. “They’re for Cousin Ada,” she’d explained. “She’s going to cut them into rags and we’re going to make rugs out of them.”
“But…don’t you have anything to wear?” Bart had asked.
“Oh, no, Cousin Ada’s going to give me what I need,” Hazel had explained airily. “It’s all settled, so don’t you worry a thing about it.”
Bart glowered at the rain. He knew what was going to happen when it finally stopped! Hazel would be soaked through, with no dry clothes to change into, so he’d have to offer her some of his own. Then, Hazel would proceed to use his best shirt, the one he’d brought along for when they finally got to Galava, and dry Froo-Froo off with it. It would smell of wet poodle for weeks! Only when Hazel was satisfied that Froo-Froo was dry would she get into some of Bart’s clothes. She’d probably get sick, and everyone would blame him for doing a poor job of caring for her.
“Froo-Froo! No! Come back!”
Bart’s head snapped around in time to see Hazel jump to her feet and run after Froo-Froo, who had managed to wriggle out of the woman’s arms.
“Hazel!” Bart stood up and sprinted after her.
Lightning struck a tree just ahead of them. It split in half, throwing chips of wood all over.
Hazel skidded to a stop, flinging her arms up to protect her face. Bart turned his face to the side, stopping as well. When he turned to look again, Hazel was crawling underneath the fallen half of the blasted tree, her long skirt getting caught in brambles.
“Hazel, stop!” he begged, running after her.
“I can’t leave Froo-Froo!” she shrieked.
“Froo-Froo will come back! We need to stay in shelter!” Bart wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be right about the poodle coming back or not. It would certainly make him happier if the dog never reappeared!
“But she could die!” Hazel was showing no signs of stopping. Once she was past the fallen tree, she stood up, tripped on her skirt, and got back up. “Froo-Froo!” She started to run again.
“Hazel, please! You’ll hurt yourself!” Bart crawled under the tree and sprinted after her.
“Froo-Froo!” Hazel called again. Abruptly, she gave a sudden shriek, her arms windmilling for balance, and then she vanished from his sight.
Bart stopped dead, terror freezing his heart. Hazel was probably dead or seriously injured. He’d never be able to get her to her cousin’s house, now, and he’d have to face the shame of it for the rest of his life!
“Oh, Froo-Froo, you clever girl!” Hazel’s voice cried.
Bart started to breathe again. He hurried forward to where Hazel had fallen and looked down into the ditch that revealed itself.
Hazel was sitting in a puddle of water, holding a muddy Froo-Froo to her chest. She looked up and beamed at Bart. “Isn’t she so clever! Look!” She pointed to a dark hole in the stones at one end of the ditch. “She found us shelter! Oh, you brave and adorable baby!”
Bart almost gagged. “Sheer luck,” he muttered, carefully climbing down to join Hazel and the poodle.
Hazel didn’t hear him, too busy exclaiming over her dog. “Such a marvelous girl!”
Bart rolled his eyes and helped her stand up and walk over to the hole. It was larger than he was expecting, and mostly dry. There were a few puddles of water on the floor at the entrance, but nothing else. Bart got Hazel settled at the back and squeezed himself beside her. He wasn’t completely protected from the rain, but it was better than it had been before.
Hazel finally stopped praising Froo-Froo, and yawned deeply. Then she sat up straight. “My suitcase! I forgot it!”
Bart groaned. It had been left behind when Froo-Froo ran off. “I’ll go get it,” he said, sighing.
“Would you really?” Hazel pressed up against his side, her big eyes fixed on his face.
“Of course,” Bart said, his heart beating faster despite his best efforts. “I’ll be right back.” He slipped out of the hole and started to climb out of the ditch.
Five minutes and a very muddy front later, Bart hauled himself out of the ditch. He was privately cursing Froo-Froo, Hazel, and himself for getting him into this situation. The wind howled in his ears, and he wrapped his arms around his chest and trudged back to the tree they’d taken shelter under before.
Hazel’s suitcase was still sitting there under the tree, soaked but otherwise fine. He picked it up and trudged back. He was so cold and wet…and it was all Froo-Froo’s fault. He was going to have to convince Hazel to get rid of the beast, or find some way to do it himself, or he'd be crazy by the time they reached Galava. It wouldn’t be easy, though, and if he was going to get rid of Froo-Froo himself, he’d have to find a way to make it so Hazel wouldn’t suspect him. Perhaps if he pretended to like the horrid thing? He’d have to be cautious, though. Too much all at once would arouse suspicion. Hmm. Either way he looked at it, getting Froo-Froo out of Hazel’s life was going to be nearly impossible. Sighing, Bart slid down into the ditch and crawled into their cave.
Hazel squealed with delight when she saw he had the suitcase. She put Froo-Froo down and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome,” Bart said, finding a place to set it down inside their tiny cave.
Once he was sitting down again, Hazel snuggled up next to him. “You’re cold, aren’t you? I hope the storm is almost over.”
“So do I,” Bart said fervently.
Hazel smiled at him and soon fell asleep leaning against him.
They crawled out of the hole the next morning. It had stopped raining sometime during the night. Froo-Froo ran around in circles, barking madly.
Bart winced but was too happy to be out of the cramped hole to muster up much anger toward the poodle.
Hazel gave a happy sigh. “Oh, good. Now we can go on to Cousin Ada’s house!” Abruptly, she flung her arms around Bart. “You’ve been such a wonderful help! Froo-Froo and I could never have survived that storm without you!”
Bart turned bright red. He managed to stammer something polite. After all, it wasn’t every day stunningly beautiful red-heads threw themselves into his arms, even if the red-head in question was dirt-smudged and damp. If the rewards were always like this, though, maybe he could even endure Froo-Froo. The trip wasn't going to last forever, after all.
Offering Hazel his arm and taking the suitcase with his free hand, Bart started walking, whistling a cheerful song.
The sky was clear, the wind was crisp, and the future was theirs for the taking!
http://www.musings-in-a-strange-land.blogspot.com/